After a few seconds the two gunmen appeared, one being supported by the other. A large bullet wound was clearly visible on the struggling gunman’s side. El Jefe jumped out of the Lexus and approached the two. The injured man smiling at El Jefe, humbled at the thought that El Jefe would help him.
“I’ll help him, you get in the car!” El Jefe instructed the uninjured gunman. Taking the injured gunman’s weight from him.
“I can manage El Jefe!” offered the other gunman, keen to show he was more than happy to assist.
El Jefe simply drew the gunman a look as he withdrew his knife and sliced cleanly threw the injured gunman’s throat. He stepped aside and let the dead man’s body fall to the ground.
“Nobody can ever know we were involved in shooting the American soldiers!” explained El Jefe to the confused gunman as they made their way back to the Lexus. “His bullet wound needed hospital treatment. That bullet was an American bullet, he would have been linked to us and we would be hunted for evermore by the Americans.”
Before the gunman could ask the obvious question of what about the body and could they not trace him from that, El Jefe had tossed a grenade towards the body as they sped away. The incendiary grenade would ensure nothing but charred bones would be left of the corpse.
Chapter 29
“Que?”
It was that single moment of delay that saved Katie’s life.
Had he shouted in the gunmen’s native Spanish, Katie would have been killed without a second thought. Fortunately, to ensure Sean knew what he was doing, Luis had issued the order in English, giving the gunmen just enough doubt as to whether the order was meant for them.
Sean rounded the doorway just as Luis was repeating the order in the gunmen’s native Spanish. “Mate la!!!”
“No!!!” screamed Sean but his instructions meant nothing to the Los Zetas men.
Despite his shout, they pointed their guns at Katie who, on understanding Luis’ first shout, was already halfway to the floor screaming and scrambling for cover.
As one gunman spun towards Sean, the other pulled the trigger as he aimed at the cowering Katie. Sean ignored the gunman spinning towards him and fired the handheld cannon twice towards Katie’s would be killer. Despite having used the Desert Eagle before, the kick, as he quickly remembered, wasn’t as much as he expected it to be. The first round hit center mass while the second, due to the anticipated recoil, hit the gunman in the head. Both should have been center mass. However the result was the same. The gunmen died before he managed to get a shot off.
With Katie safe, Sean spun back towards the other gunman who unfortunately was already zeroing in on Sean’s center mass. Sean pushed through his feet with every ounce of strength he could muster as he sprung to the right, diving out of the gunman’s range.
However hard he pushed, it was not going to be quicker than the bullet that barreled towards Sean at over 2000 ft/s. As he dived the bullet struck him high on the pelvis and spinning his airborne body like a rag doll into the wall. The sound of a 220-pound man hitting a wall at full force was magnified by the whump as every ounce of air was expelled from his lungs.
Despite the noise, Katie’s scream pierced though it all as the sight of Sean being shot all but destroyed her world.
With Sean out of the picture, the gunmen returned to his initial task, killing Katie. He swung his Ak47 back towards Katie who was scrabbling desperately across the floor to get to Sean.
As he took aim and prepared to fire, he stopped. She had stopped scrabbling and was looking in wonder at something in front of her.
The gunman tore his eyes from Katie, just long enough to see what she was seeing.
It was the last thing he would ever see, the barrel of the Desert Eagle as a bullet was fired from it. Both bullets flew within a microsecond of one another and exactly on the same trajectory. The memory of the Desert Eagle’s kick had been retrieved and the actions required to ensure a tight control on target had been made, as only a man expert at firing weapons knew how to. Sean watched as the gunman’s head evaporated under the force of the two massive bullets.
A clapping sound from behind cut through the silence and announced Luis’ entry into the room. ”Congratulations,” he offered.
Katie, ignoring Luis, jumped up and ran to Sean, a large bloody stain soaked his side, a hole clearly visible in his shirt. He had definitely been hit.
“Sit down,” she insisted, pushing him onto the nearest couch.
Sean was still gasping for the breath that had left him as he had it the wall and winced as Katie pushed him down onto the couch.
“It’s not bad,” he eventually managed as he caught his breath. “Just a flesh wound, really.”
Sean guided her hands away from the wound.
Katie was having none of it and pushing his hands aside, pulled his shirt back before bursting into tears.
Luis rushed forward fearing the worst at Katie’s reaction to Sean’s wound. He pushed her aside and stared in amazement at the shining metal plate that sat where pelvic bone would have normally sat, the bullet had merely removed a chunk of skin before deflecting off of the Titanium plate. It really was a flesh wound in the true sense of the term.
Luis looked at the inconsolable Katie and back at Sean and shrugged in some confusion.
Sean flicked the plate. “It took me six months to recover from the accident that caused this to be implanted and even longer to walk without any sign of a limp.”
Luis was still struggling to comprehend Katie’s reaction and shrugged again, as if so what.
“I’m definitely not her husband!” explained Sean.
Chapter 30
General Borodin could only gape in wonder as he was led through the Russian estate that would have put any State residence and most Western estates to shame. Its grandeur was exactly the reason the peasants had revolted almost a hundred years earlier. As much as he was revolted by its opulence, he loved it.
“This way, General.” Surkov led the general towards his private study.
The study was in keeping with the rest of the estate, grand, opulent but utterly captivating and Borodin immediately saw himself working happily behind the old oak desk that sat opposite a massive roaring fireplace. Two huge Chesterfields sat beckoning in front of the fire and with a wave of the hand, it was as though Surkov had read Borodin’s mind and guided him towards the sofas.
“General, please.” He waved towards the seat nearest the fire which the General readily accepted.
After pouring tea for them both which was topped up with vodka and a nod of acceptance by Borodin, Surkov sat down.
“So General, tell me what you know.”
Borodin looked at Surkov. His contempt for the man was becoming harder to contain. He was there to find out what Surkov knew. Not tell Surkov what he knew. However, Borodin was a man who was used to knowing everything. The thought that he was unaware of the bigger picture frustrated him even more.
He would play along with Surkov until he discovered what was going on.
Borodin smiled, the smile he reserved especially for politicians and foreign dignitaries that he had the displeasure of meeting. Warm and open, he had spent many years perfecting it, ensuring that it reached into his eyes and hid the darkness that lurked behind.
“I believed, until now, that Grebnevo…”
“No, what do you know about why you are here?” interrupted Surkov, struggling to hide his irritation.
Borodin squeezed the arm of the sofa. His temper was legendary as was his inability to control it. He smiled again, struggling to radiate warmth across his face. The resultant smile was more of a grimace.
“I received a call from an agent we had placed in America over thirty years ago. A deep sleeper. He was only to contact us if activated or if he believed his information was critical to Russia. To be honest, I had forgotten he even existed but he continued to receive data from us. He is a senior manager within the immigration department and was made aware of an alert that Sean Fox had entered America.”