"Nothing like catching them with their pants down, no pun intended," deadpanned Starr, who was already beginning to pull back out into the parking area. "Starr, after I jump out, give me about sixty seconds and then pull up alongside the camper, door side, as though we're supposed to be meeting them. Join me inside."
Forty-five seconds later, Starr cut the engine on the car and coasted up to within twenty feet of the back of the camper. Styles immediately dove out the passenger-door window, rolled, and then was immediately at the door of the camper. Up close, the large camper's rocking was even more evident, and muffled sounds of pleasure could be heard. He turned the doorknob and was surprised it was unlocked. A trap? He was certain it wasn't. Just two people who couldn't wait to get their hands on each other.
Cautiously, he opened the door slightly. The sounds were coming from the bedroom in the rear of the camper. The sounds were uninterrupted, and Styles slipped inside, the residue of the camo paint still on him. The door to the sleeping quarters was open, and Styles could clearly see the bottom half of a man's and woman's legs, entwined. Silently, he moved through the small living area and kitchen, down the hall, and past the surprisingly large bathroom on the right. It was opposite the bathroom wall where the head of the bed was located. The woman was positioning herself atop the man, sideways on the bed. Standing in the open doorway, each was oblivious of Styles's presence. Styles fired two suppressed rounds inches away from the man's ears. Both of them froze. "Don't move."
33
"Very slowly get off him," Styles directed the young woman straddled across Rijah Ellhad.
"Do as he says," snarled Ellhad.
With great deliberation, the woman moved into the left back corner of the bed, tucked her knees to her chest with her arms folded, and buried her head in an attempt to cover herself.
"Who the fuck are you?" growled Ellhad.
Styles merely put his finger to his lips, motioning for Ellhad to be silent, rage pouring from Ellhad's eyes.
Moments later, the door opened, and Starr and Phillips entered, joining Styles in the bedroom.
"Did you bring your little satchel?" Styles asked Phillips.
"Yes."
Right then, Ellhad tried to leap from the bed, but Styles cracked him across his forehead with the butt of his pistol, sending Ellhad backward against the headboard.
"Do that again, and I shoot you in both shoulders," Styles said quite calmly, his voice chilling the room. The girl hadn't stirred. "Secure his hands to the bed frame," Styles instructed Starr while aiming the gun barrel directly at Ellhad's forehead.
Starr pulled two large plastic wire ties, and in seconds, the man was bound securely.
Styles nodded at Phillips, who inserted a needle into the man's neck and pushed the plunger on the syringe. Within half a minute, his eyes started to glaze slightly.
"Everything outside is clear. What about her?" Starr queried as he'd gone back on watch detail.
"This is war," Phillips asserted. In one motion, she retrieved her own silenced pistol she'd had in the middle of her back, aimed, and fired a single round down through the woman's head. The hollow-point bullet had more than done its job, blowing a large hole out of the base of the woman's neck. Her body slammed against the wall and then crumpled to the floor. Ellhad didn't even take notice. "He's ready; try questioning him," Phillips stated.
Styles nodded at Starr, who turned and without a word went back to the living area to keep watch from there.
Phillips looked at Styles. "You said yourself this is war. You are the one who made the decision to expand my role by placing me in the field. That trust brings responsibility, and I need you to know that I can handle that. I also know that although you would have done that without hesitation, you wouldn't have liked shooting an unarmed woman. I just did what we both knew had to be done. I didn't like or not like doing it. It's just part of the job."
Styles just nodded.
"Marv, might want to check this out!" hollered Starr from the living area.
"Watch him," Styles instructed Phillips, and then he looked in the direction Starr was pointing. Under the built-in table, strapped to its framework, was a wooden crate.
"I'd say that is what we are looking for!" exclaimed Starr. "Should we open it?"
"Not yet," determined Styles. "Let's question Ellhad first."
Returning to the bedroom, Styles leaned over him. He could see that Ellhad was having difficulty focusing on him.
"Let's start with an easy question. Is that wooden crate under the table the synthetic agent you were planning on releasing?"
Ellhad just mumbled in return.
Styles gave him a firm slap across his cheek. "Listen. Is that the agent?"
Still mumbling, he managed a slight nod, indicating yes.
"Is it safe to open?"
"Doo… Doon't… near water. Di… soves."
"Is this all there is?"
Ellhad mumbled, "Ye… yessss…"
"Do you know anything about the death of the president?"
Ellhad attempted to struggle against the chemicals but lost. "Na, no."
Styles straightened up. "We're finished here. Go join Starr."
"I'd just as soon stay if that's all right with you."
"Suit yourself." He took out his silenced Beretta and shot Ellhad twice in the heart. He proceeded to remove a Benchmade Infidel, a razor-edged switchblade, from his pocket and thumbed the button upward, allowing the blade to spring straight out from its handle. He carved terrorist deeply into Ellhad's forehead, with little blood flowing due to his heart not beating. "Starr, grab that crate. Let's go."
"We've got company," alerted Starr as a dark blue BMW came pulling up quickly.
Styles thought quickly. "Phillips, grab that crate and climb into the bathtub. Keep low." He knew that the RV would not stop bullets very well. "Anybody but us comes through the door, shoot."
"You think—" Star interjected.
"Yeah, backup. We're going out the windshield." Moving quickly to the front, Styles kicked the large section of glass out, hearing it shatter against the pavement. "You go out, and get under the RV. Try to get to the back dual wheels. Shoot at whatever you can. I'm going up on top."
Both men climbed out of the opening, Styles high, Starr low. They heard two doors open and close and then footsteps advancing carefully.
While Starr was belly-crawling under the RV, Styles had jumped up on the roof and was crawling down the middle, staying as low as possible. He heard one of the men shout out, "Rijah!" and then Arabic jabbering. Styles could tell both men were advancing on the door side of the RV. He had made it halfway between the entrance door and the rear of the recreational vehicle. He could hear the men approaching his position and then slowly moving past him, toward the door. He crawled over to the side and looked over, making the decision to try to take them alive. He holstered his Beretta behind his back, snapping it in place. In one motion, he pivoted on the roof and then launched himself at the two men, both of whom brandished silenced handguns. He landed one foot on each man's shoulder and then rolled when he hit the pavement. The impact knocked both adversaries to the ground, and their pistols went skittering across the pavement. Styles jumped to his feet and kicked the closest one in the side of his head. This man was the smaller of the two. The larger man had managed to get to his feet, a look of pure rage on his face. He advanced toward Styles and tried to kick him in the balls. Styles moved aside, and the large man's foot swept past him. Styles circled the big man. Again, the man tried to kick him, this time catching a fist in the side of his knee for his trouble. He grunted but kept coming, drawing a knife in the process.