He believed they might be able to save Bridget McKenzie no matter how hard she resisted.
Now Smyth veered across two lanes of traffic, shoulder-swiping a stalled F150 but continuing without a glance back. With no time they could afford no courtesies, and the terrible cloud hanging over them meant they were being forced to go all in, all of the time.
Dahl cocked his weapons. “Warehouse is less than a minute away,” he said. “And why the hell don’t they sort all these potholes?”
Smyth sympathized with him. The roads were an unending, pockmarked, hazardous tract where cars inched around jagged holes and roadworks were thrown up at any moment, seemingly uncaring of the time of day or density of traffic. It really was dog eat dog out there, with no man looking to help any other.
Quickly, they took their bearings from the GPS and aimed for the tip of the arrow. Early morning crispness threw pins and needles at their exposed skin, reminding them all it was still early. Sunlight filtered through breaks in the clouds, bathing the docks and the nearby river in pale gold. Those men that Dahl could see went about their business as usual. He’d imagined the dock area to be dark and dingy but apart from the warehouses the area was clean, and not particularly crowded. Nor was it busy, as the major shipping areas were across the bay in New Jersey. Still, Dahl saw large, battered containers and a long wide vessel stationary on the waters and enormous blue-painted container cranes that could traverse the length of the quay on rail tracks and collect their containers with spreaders.
Warehouses sat to the left, along with a yard full of more brightly colored containers. Dahl pointed to a building one hundred and fifty feet away.
“That’s our boy. Smyth, Kenzie, come forward. I want Lauren and Yorgi behind us.”
He moved off, focused now, concentrating on getting one assault behind them before they moved on to the next… and then the next until this nightmare was over and he could return to his family. Newly painted doors were dotted along the side of the building, and Dahl raised his head at the first window.
“Empty office. Let’s try the next.”
Minutes passed as the group crept along the side of the building, guns drawn, trying window after window, door after door. Dahl noticed with frustration that they were beginning to attract attention from the local workers. He didn’t want to spook their quarry.
“C’mon.”
They hurried along, finally reaching the fifth window along and taking a quick look. Dahl saw a wide space cluttered by cardboard boxes and wooden crates, but close to the window he also saw a rectangular table. Around the table sat four men, heads down as if they were talking, planning and thinking. Dahl dropped down and crouched with his back to the wall.
“We good?” Smyth asked.
“Possible,” Dahl said. “Could be nothing… but—”
“I trust you,” Kenzie said with a modicum of sarcasm. “You lead, I’ll follow,” Then she shook her head. “You people are really that mad? Just burst in there and start the shooting first?”
A man was approaching, squinting at them. Dahl raised his HK and the man froze, hands shooting up into the air. The decision was made mostly because the guy stood in the direct eye line of anyone inside the warehouse. Less than a second passed before Dahl rose, spun, and smashed a shoulder against the outer door. Smyth and Kenzie were with him, reading his thoughts.
As Dahl entered the spacious warehouse, four men jumped up from the table. Guns rested by their sides, and they withdrew them now, firing indiscriminately at the incoming strangers. Bullets flew everywhere, shattering the window and smashing through the swinging door. Dahl dived headlong, rolling, coming up firing. The men from the table scrambled away as they shot back, shooting over shoulders and even between their legs as they ran. Nowhere was safe. Errant gunfire filled the cavernous space. Dahl scrabbled on both elbows until he reached the table and upended it, using it as a shield. One end shattered as a high-caliber round passed straight through.
“Shit.”
“Are you trying to get me killed?” Kenzie muttered.
The big Swede changed tactics, picked up the huge table, and then launched it through the air. The tumbling edges caught one man around the ankles, sending him flying and his gun scudding away. As Dahl approached fast, Kenzie’s voice made him slow down.
“Careful with these little fuckers. I’ve worked all over the Middle East and seen a thousand of ’em wearing vests.”
Dahl hesitated. “I don’t think you can just—”
The explosion rocked the warehouse walls. The Swede flew off his feet, airborne, and smashed into the already devastated window. White noise filled his head, the overwhelming buzz of tinnitus, and for a second he couldn’t see. By the time his vision started to clear he was aware of Kenzie crouched before him, patting his cheeks.
“Wake up, man. It wasn’t the entire body, just a grenade.”
“Oh. Well that makes me feel better.”
“This is our chance,” she said. “The concussion knocked his idiot comrades down too.”
Dahl struggled to his feet. Smyth was up, but Lauren and Yorgi sat on their knees, fingers pressed to their temples. Dahl saw the terrorists starting to recover. Urgency pricked at him like a prong poking a piece of tenderized meat. Raising his gun he came under fire again but managed to wound one of the rising terrorists, and watched the man twist and fall.
Smyth raced past. “Got him.”
Dahl forged ahead. Kenzie squeezed off shots beside him. The two remaining terrorists turned a corner and Dahl realized they were headed outside. He slowed momentarily, then turned the same corner, firing carefully, but his bullets hit only empty air and concrete. The door was wide open.
A grenade bounced back inside.
The explosion was a matter of course now, the SPEAR team taking cover and waiting for the shrapnel to pass them by. Walls shuddered and cracked under an intense impact. Then they were up, squeezing out the door in cover formation and into the brightening day.
“One o clock,” Smyth said.
Dahl stared in the direction indicated, saw two running figures and, beyond them, the Hudson leading to the Upper Bay. “Bollocks, they may have speedboats.”
Kenzie dropped to one knee, sighting carefully. “Then we take—”
“No,” Dahl pushed her weapon’s barrel downward. “Can’t you see the civilians over there?”
“Zubi,” she cursed in Hebrew, a language Dahl had no understanding of. Together, Smyth, Kenzie and the Swede started a pursuit. The terrorists were quick, almost at the dockside already. Kenzie compromised by firing her HK into the air, expecting the civilians to either scatter or take cover.
“You can thank me after we save the day,” she barked.
Dahl saw an avenue of opportunity open up. Both terrorists were standing tall against a watery background, great targets, and Kenzie’s opportunistic fire had cleared the way. He slowed and fitted the stock to his shoulder, taking careful aim. Smyth followed suit at his side.
The terrorists turned as if practicing telepathy, already shooting. Dahl kept his focus as lead whizzed between the SPEAR team. His second bullet took his target in the chest, his third in the forehead, dead-center. The man toppled backwards, already dead.
“Keep one alive,” Lauren’s voice came through his earpiece.
Smyth fired. The last terrorist had already jumped aside, the bullet tugging at his jacket as Smyth adjusted. A swift movement saw the terrorist hurl another grenade — this one along the dockside itself.
“No!” Dahl fired fruitlessly, his heart leaping up into his throat.
The small bomb exploded with a loud report, the blast wave echoing across the docks. Dahl leapt behind a container for a moment and then sprang back out — but his momentum faltered as he saw there was now more than the remaining terrorist to worry about.