Chris dived to the cold floor and rolled. A whistle split the air followed by a horrible gasp. Locke gazed up to see the man glancing dumbfounded at the Kukhri blade buried in his midsection. He rocked backward, then forward, crashing through the banister and tumbling to the floor.
“Damn,” Nikki moaned, grabbing the Mac-10 from Locke, “the noise! We’re blown!”
She took off for the staircase. Locke sped after her, finger against the trigger of his Mac-10. It was remarkably light but Chris knew its potential for devastation was incredible. Still, his bandaged left hand made grasping it difficult and he wondered what that might do to his aim.
On the third floor, the leader joined the two Chinese in the corridor. Footsteps pounded up the stairs. One of the Chinese pumped a shell into his twelve-gauge shotgun, tilted its barrel down, and squeezed the trigger.
The deafening blast blew out a good portion of the wall and showered Chris and Nikki with the splinters. Both went down hard, the fall saving them from the hail of fire that followed. Locke hugged the carpet but Nikki stayed in motion, firing her Mac-10 in a constant burst as she rolled. Bullets split the air around her, just missing. Nikki kept firing. From the top of the stairs came a scream and the sound of a thudding body amid the deafening roar of gunshots.
The leader watched the body of the Chink hit the floor, amazed at how the little bastard had managed to pump out three more rounds with his chest and guts blown apart. That made it two against two now, and the leader was thankful the guy on his side was another Chink.
Locke started up the stairs behind Nikki, gripping the Mac-10 as tight as he could with his bandaged hand, fighting to hold the barrel steady.
The leader slid out from behind the wall and fired three rounds down the steps, covering the second Chinese’s move to a better position with his M-16. The Chinese tried to return the favor by firing a burst but it was too late. The leader’s Magnum had clicked on an empty chamber, so when the figure rose before him he tried to duck away. He felt the hot pain burn his side and shoulder and crunched hard against the wall, sliding down to the floor. The figure was darting up the stairs now. It seemed to dance through the Chinese’s hail of fire. A fucking broad, would you believe it? The leader’s mind returned to his orders. Orders were everything, he reminded himself. Breathing heavily, the taste of blood thick in his mouth, the leader started crawling for the door. With a trembling hand he reached in his pocket for his final speed loader.
Nikki started her rush up the stairs just as Chris had almost caught up with her. Bullets blazed everywhere and he thought he heard her scream but he wasn’t sure. The Mac-10’s blasting led her way and out of the dimness a lithe figure darted down the corridor, firing a series of rounds behind him. Nikki took off after him, keeping her body low and tight against the wall, leery of turns and doorways. This was the last one left alive by her count.
The leader popped the speed loader home and snapped the cylinder closed. He had reached the door of the room holding the hostage, but the girl was too easy a target to let go. He aimed the Magnum as carefully as he could.
“Get down, Nikki! Get down!”
Locke was tugging the trigger of the Mac-10 even as he screamed the warning, spraying rounds toward the downed man holding the pistol. His bandaged hand couldn’t control the barrel, though, and the bullets stitched a pattern in the wood above the figure as it pushed against a door and crawled forward into a room. Chris lunged after him, only to be tripped up by a bloody corpse that sent him sprawling to the floor.
Nikki, meanwhile, had gone down with Locke’s warning, feeling the heat of the bullet pass just over her ear and dig into the wood above her. At that instant the lithe figure — a Chinese, she realized — rushed back toward her with his M-16 carving up the air before him.
Nikki swung her Mac-10 upward and fired in the same motion, catching the Chinese in the gut with a barrage of nine-millimeter rounds. Blood slid from the holes in his midsection. He slowed but kept coming, his finger clicking on an empty trigger, mad eyes clinging to life.
Suddenly a knife flashed in his hands in place of the rifle and Nikki fired the last burst from her Mac-10. The bullets tore much of his skull away, but still the blade was plunging down. Screaming, Nikki had risen to block it when the Chinese stiffened and collapsed atop her.
The leader knew he was dying but managed to raise the pistol toward his captive, pouring all his remaining strength into the effort required to pull the trigger. He started to squeeze.
“NOOOOOOOOO!”
The leader never heard the drawn-out scream as the intruder rushed into the room, machine pistol blasting away. He felt his own trigger give, heard the blast as life was stripped away from him.
Locke kept the Mac-10’s barrel tilted at the sprawled body. The trigger clicked empty as he moved through the room.
Please let me be on time. Oh, God, please ….
Tied to a chair in the rear of the room was Greg, head slumped on a filthy blue T-shirt. Chris’s heart sank in his chest as he crept nearer. The boy was dead. He had been too late.
Then he realized the T-shirt was moving, expanding regularly with Greg’s breathing. He was alive! Thank God!
Chris hugged him tight, feeling with disgust the ropes that bound him.
“Greg,” he said softly, almost sobbing, “Greg, can you hear me?”
The boy’s face fell limply to his father’s shoulder. He was unconscious, but he was alive. The beating of the boy’s heart against his own chest was the most welcome sensation Locke had ever felt.
The tears of relief started to come and Chris let them.
Darkness was Shang’s friend. His training en route to becoming the most dangerous man in China had dealt plenty with working in it, and now the giant almost preferred it to light. His eyes could adjust quickly and see things no other man could, which made the darkness his ally.
He huddled inside the door and waited. He had been waiting for some time now but the training had taught him infinite patience. He would kill the famous Grendel with his bare hands in the darkness.
A key turned in the lock outside. Shang tensed with anticipation. A wave of peace swept over him as the door started to open. Dogan’s figure was entering the room now, his key still protruding from a gloved hand. His fingers felt for the light switch. Shang acted.
He grabbed his victim from behind at the head, hoping to snap the neck quickly and simply. But suddenly Grendel’s hands came up hard, acting as a barrier as he twisted for a counter-move. They faced each other in the darkness, each searching for an advantage on the other. A slight edge was all that was required to turn the tables.
Shang felt Grendel go for his eyes, a foolish move really because it forced him to overreach and allowed the giant to come under and find his throat. Shang shoved him viciously backward until Grendel’s head smacked against plaster. Then, as Dogan writhed and clawed desperately, the giant joined both his hands beneath his chin and jammed it upward and back.
There was a crunching snap, Dogan’s body going first rigid and then limp, his head sliding toward the middle of his back.
Shang let the American’s frame slip down to the carpeting. Then he twisted the neck one last time just to make sure the job was done.
Chapter 27
“Major Pete’s gonna be a little late, louie,” Calvin Roy told deputy National Security adviser Louis Auschmann. “Some kind of emergency came up. We’ll get started without him. You read my memo?”