Devine didn’t take even a second to rejoice over his twin victories. He went straight to the window and looked out. The lower window had been removed for some reason, though the upper part was still there. But he wasn’t focused on that.
Brand-new-looking bars had been screwed into the exterior walls, turning his room into a cell. Since he was not escaping via that route, he would have to get out of here the hard way.
He turned, raced back to the duct tape, tore off some strips, used considerable strength to pull the long nail out of the wall, and rushed back to the window. The storm was starting in earnest and a bolt of lightning struck nearby. He waited, his elbow poised near the window. As soon as the deafening thunderclap sounded, he hit the glass with his elbow. The glass shattered, and he used the duct tape to pull out a long, pointed shard. He wound the duct tape around the top of it so he could grip it there without cutting his hand.
He placed the nail between his fingers and let the business end stick out the top.
He slowly opened the door, inch by inch, because it had creaked before. He had already seen another partially open door along the hallway when they had brought him up. He closed the door behind him and slid on his hands and knees down the hall to the other door. He pushed it open a little more so he could slide through before easing it back to its original position.
He peered out through the gap. Perfect sight line of anyone coming up the stairs, and when they turned to the room where he had just been, their backs would be to him.
He heard another vehicle pull up outside. The room he was in now had no window. But he could hear feet running through the rain and then the front door opened. He heard voices, some in English, some in other languages. He had a conversational knowledge of Farsi and Arabic, but those linguistic skills had withered from nonuse. It didn’t matter; the people were speaking fast and in low voices.
He relaxed and did his combat breathing when he heard footsteps on the stairs. Two sets, two men.
Through the gap he could see the countenances of the Asian in the lead and one of the Middle Easterners right behind. They reached the top of the stairs and turned right, their backs to Devine, just as he’d planned.
He was on full autopilot now. It was known as unconscious competence because he had practiced both the analysis and actions based on that analysis so many times, and carried it out for real countless more times, that his mental and muscle memory was near absolute.
Devine knew that there were around seventy-five areas of the body that could trigger incapacitating reflex injury. Now his task was to ID a few of those locations in this situation and inflict just such an injury. And do it with speed, surprise, and overwhelming aggression.
There was a reason why a lion always went for the throat.
He’d wanted to do this completely silently, but with two adversaries that was problematic. There were at least two more downstairs, the third man and whoever had come in just now.
He stepped out in such a way as to give the Middle Easterner a sight of him in his peripheral. That would expose the target Devine was aiming for.
When the man turned the glass knife slashed his throat, severing the windpipe so the man would not cry out. The thrust had also split the carotid sheath in two. The blood geyser painted the opposite wall a dripping red and splattered all over Devine as well.
The lead man was pulling out his gun when Devine struck, and the nail hit the man’s windpipe. He recoiled and dropped his weapon, gasping for air, unable to call out. Devine next pulled the glass knife free from the first man’s throat, pivoted, and severed the second man’s carotid with it. Devine caught the man and gently laid him down on the floor, even as he gave a last, rattling gasp and joined his partner in death.
The sounds of the attack and the men falling were fortunately mostly covered up by the sounds of the raging storm.
Devine searched both men and found his phone and his gun.
He quickly sent a text to Harper and Fuss telling them what had happened and approximately where he was, but that they could also track his phone. He was just about to send a message to Campbell when a voice called up, speaking in Farsi.
Devine answered back in a low voice in Farsi, saying basically, “Be right down.”
As soon as the other Middle Easterner poked his head up the staircase, Devine put two bullets in it. The dead man slumped to the floor, the wall behind him painted with his blood.
There was a scream — a woman’s, Devine thought — and then he jumped to the side as the muzzle of an MP5 entered the stairwell and on full auto sprayed the area with a wall of bullets.
Next, Devine heard people running away, and he got to his feet.
He made his way cautiously down the stairs and then poked his head around the corner. He ducked down as more gunfire erupted. When he then heard a vehicle start he ran to the front door and jumped out onto the porch in time to see the taillights of the SUV fleeing down the road as the storm continued to roar overhead.
He ran back to the dead man at the bottom of the stairs, because he had been the one driving before. He snagged the vehicle keys from his pocket and ran back outside. He got into the SUV, fired it up, and started to back out. However, the truck wobbled badly and he slammed it in park and hopped out.
He went around the vehicle, his fury accelerating as he did so.
They had shot out all four tires on their way to escaping. That was the gunfire he had heard.
He slumped against the SUV’s fender and let the rain wash over him.
Despite their escape Devine had one thing to be happy about.
I’m alive.
Chapter 29
Devine sat on the front steps of a place where three men lay dead inside.
He was listening to the sounds of someone vomiting into the scraggly bushes on the right side of the old shack.
Sergeant Wendy Fuss came into view, wiping at her mouth and looking wretched.
“Jesus, Devine,” she said, spitting onto the ground and looking at his clothes that were soaked with the blood of other men.
Harper came out of the front door, snapped off his nitrile gloves, and glowered down at Devine.
“How in the hell did you get outta that?”
“You can thank the United States Army.”
Harper glanced at the house. “I think I need to call in the county and state police on this. It’s out of my jurisdiction.”
“Feel free.”
“And you gonna contact your folks?” he added. “I mean, those bodies, they sort of look... well, federal.”
“Already done and they’re on their way.”
“So we should just seal this thing off then and wait for folks to show up?”
“That’s what I would do,” said Devine. “And I need a ride back to town.”
“We’ll need your statement,” said Fuss, wrinkling her nose as she rubbed her belly.
“I can do it back in town.”
Harper said quickly, “I’ll run you back. Wendy, you stay here on guard till the people show up.”
Fuss looked like that was the last thing on earth she wanted to do, but the woman gamely nodded and said, “Sure, okay, Chief.”
“I’ll radio the county and state folks right now and let them know what’s what,” said Harper as he hurried over to his cruiser.
Fuss moved closer to Devine and looked up at him. “Did you really kill all those men?”
“If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be standing here talking to you.”
“It was a damn miracle.”
“No, it wasn’t. It was slow training, deep practice, and fast execution.”