XLIX
Ethan ducked out of sight into the foyer as Abrahem screamed and charged for the doorway, the gunshots smashing the wooden doorframe and sending splinters flashing past Ethan’s eyes as he then plunged back in and collided with Abrahem as the Iraqi burst from the room.
The force of the Iraqi’s charge propelled Ethan backwards and out of the lounge and he landed on his back on the tiled floor of the foyer as Abrahem landed on top of him. The hard shape of his pistol dug into Ethan’s back as he crashed down, and Abrahem’s own weapon rushed down toward his skull.
Ethan threw his hands up and blocked the savage blow, catching Abrahem’s wrists in his hands and holding him at bay as the Iraqi screamed and snarled with inhuman strength as he forced Ethan’s hands back over his head and brought his head crashing down.
Abrahem’s forehead smashed into Ethan’s nose with a burst of white pain, hot blood spilling down his cheek as the Iraqi fought with the strength and fury of the insane. Ethan pulled his head away from the pain as Abrahem lifted his head and crashed it down again into Ethan’s, impacting just above Ethan’s left eye.
Ethan’s vision starred as the Iraqi smashed his head up and down, spittle flying and his maniacal cries soaring through the foyer. Ethan saw the former President and his family rush past behind Abrahem, hustling up the huge staircase as Abrahem smashed Ethan’s head against the tiled floor.
Ethan waited, fighting against Abrahem but not throwing him off until the President’s family were out of sight before he released his grip on Abrahem’s hands and grabbed the assassin’s face with both hands, one cupped beneath Abrahem’s jaw and the other around the back of his skull as he twisted with all of his might.
Abrahem’s neck was yanked sideways and he toppled off Ethan onto his back as Ethan hooked one leg over Abrahem to pin him down as he grabbed for the Iraq’s pistol again and managed to overpower the assassin. Ethan came up on top and smashed his free fist down into Abrahem’s nose, crushing it in a splatter of blood as he felt a sharp pain pulse through his knuckles under the impact.
Abrahem jerked a knee up and it slammed into the center of Ethan’s back, pain ripping up Ethan’s spine as Abrahem drove his hands under Ethan’s jaw and shoved him backwards, one leg hooking over Ethan’s head and locking beneath his neck as his back was arched painfully over.
Ethan gagged as his throat was crushed, fighting to hold onto the assassin’s pistol and prevent him from shooting as Abrahem screamed something in Arabic and began pushing Ethan’s spine to breaking point.
Ethan grasped Abrahem’s leg with his free hand in a desperate attempt to dislodge him, but Abrahem was already up on his elbows on the ground and now driving forward with ever greater leverage, pushing Ethan’s head back toward his own ankles in some kind of advanced martial arts move design to break the opponent’s spine.
Ethan felt white pain spear his back, heard something pop as though tendons were breaking under the strain, and then suddenly the unbearable pressure vanished as Abrahem rolled away and released Ethan and took aim with the pistol as he wrenched it from Ethan’s grasp.
Ethan flipped upright and almost collapsed alongside Abrahem as he heard a deafening clatter of gunfire erupt beside him as Abrahem fired over Ethan’s body at somebody near the lounge door.
Ethan rolled over and smashed Abrahem’s pistol upward, his shots going high as a single returned round slammed into Abrahem’s shoulder and jerked the Iraqi backwards. Ethan whirled and saw the large, dark figure of Aaron Mitchell tucked in against the entrance to the foyer, his pistol barely visible as he aimed it at Abrahem.
‘It’s over, Abrahem!’ Mitchell boomed. ‘You’re done here!’
Abrahem looked to where the President and his family had been, the couch now empty and the family missing.
‘It’s never over,’ he hissed as he jabbed the pistol against Ethan’s ribs, using Ethan as a human shield, Mitchell’s bullet apparently barely affecting the Iraqi.
Mitchell laughed, a great booming laugh that seemed to fill the house as he replied.
‘Go ahead, kill him! You’ll be doing me a favor! But know that I’ll kill you just the same. You’ll never hit me enough to stop me from there, but trust me when I say that I won’t miss.’
Abrahem snarled something in Arabic as he grabbed Ethan’s collar and yanked him to his feet, keeping Ethan’s body between himself and Mitchell.
‘He doesn’t need to be alive to be of use,’ Abrahem pointed out as he began backing away from Mitchell and toward the staircase.
Ethan looked at Mitchell, fully expecting the operative to open fire, but to his surprise Mitchell did not.
‘Shoot him!’ Ethan shouted.
Mitchell hesitated, and suddenly a deafening crash reverberated through the house as the front door was blasted inward and was followed by a cacophony of shouts as soldiers burst inside the building.
‘Time’s up, Abrahem,’ Ethan hissed with a grim smile.
A salvo of shots rattled out and Ethan saw Mitchell duck out of sight as he was showered with debris. Ethan hurled himself clear of Abrahem's grasp as bullets peppered the hall and the Iraqi was forced to retreat up then staircase. A bullet skimmed Ethan’s thigh with an excruciating wave of pain and Ethan rolled across the floor of the hall as he saw Abrahem sprinting up the staircase in pursuit of the former President and his family, his pistol in his hand.
Ethan, his right leg almost numb with pain, grabbed hold of the staircase banister and began hauling himself up in pursuit of the assassin as he sought his quarry somewhere above. He limped up to the first floor and heard a scream coming from somewhere toward the rear of the house, heard more shouts below and behind him as the Secret Service and their support teams flooded into the house.
Ethan broke into an awkward run as he drew his pistol from beneath his shirt and hurried toward the sound of the screams. He heard a crash and the splintering of wood ahead, and turned into a hall to see Abrahem rush shoulder — first through one of the bedroom doors as a high pitched woman’s voice screamed in desperation.
‘No, please, don’t!’
Ethan sprinted with an awkward gait to the bedroom door and heard a single, deafening gunshot. His heart almost stopped in his chest as he burst into the room.
An ornate four — poster bed dominated the bedroom, the former First Lady cowering on her knees behind the far side of the bed. In front of Ethan stood Abrahem Nassir, his pistol pointed at the former President. The President was lying on his back on the thickly carpeted bedroom floor, a hole in his shirt where a bullet had impacted his chest.
Abrahem turned the pistol to aim at the First Lady as he spotted Ethan, a grim smile of satisfaction spreading on his dark features.
‘So much for shock and awe,’ he sniggered. ‘Drop the pistol!’
Ethan held his ground, knowing that his gun was all that was keeping the First Lady alive as he staggered into the room. ‘It’s over,’ he said weakly, barely able to stand and his pistol weighing his arm down it seemed. ‘You’ve killed him.’
‘Time to finish the game,’ Abrahem snarled back.
Abrahem whipped the pistol around to aim at him, too fast for Ethan to respond, and Ethan heard a deafening gunshot that almost shattered his eardrums as he scrambled with his hands to try to protect his body from the bullet that would kill him.
L
The shot hit Abrahem in the side of his head, a fine spray of blood and bone bursting from the side of his face as the bullet smashed through his skull and embedded itself in the bedroom wall fifteen feet from where Ethan crouched.