Chase leaned into the door with his shoulder, took a jumping step back outside and threw, all in one motion. It was like a Hail Mary pass, except that the bottle wasn’t traveling in a spiral, but flipping end over end, arcing towards the elevated helicopter landing platform.
Chase shouted at Waleed, “Take a few shots at her on my next throw.”
Waleed was sitting on the ground, holding his pistol with both hands, looking like a scared deer illuminated by the headlights of an eighteen-wheeler. He stammered in response, “Alright.”
Chase heard the crack of gunfire in the distance, and the wall next to him burst into a sprinkle of white dust. Chase threw himself back inside and lit another Molotov cocktail.
He opened the door and saw that his first one had landed just in front of the stairs, which had erupted in flames. That should impair Lena’s aim. He targeted his throw a touch farther this time. Again, he didn’t wait to see where it landed. He just went back in and lit the next bottle. After throwing all four of them, Chase was rewarded with a series of alcohol-fueled fires on and near the landing pad.
Smoke from the first bottle’s flame had reduced the visibility down the walkway. Chase could no longer see the stairs. The helicopter grew closer. Time to move. He tapped Waleed as he sprinted by him. “Come on.”
Chase ran with his Sig Sauer in his right hand. He covered the distance to the stairs in about ten seconds. The noise of the rotors grew loud enough that he could no longer hear the sound of his dress shoes echoing on the ground.
Even with the flames, the helo was still trying to land. Chase had hoped that the fire would cause it to wave off. The helicopter was close enough that he could make out the two pilots. Tinted visors covered their faces. A long-barreled automatic weapon hung out the side of the Huey. The door gunner didn’t yet have enough angle that Chase was in his field of fire. But he would soon.
Chase slowed to a jog as he came closer to the platform stairs, where Lena had last lain. Fifteen feet from the landing pad, he saw her.
She was on fire.
David and Henry had jumped into one of the nets that surrounded the large circular helicopter pad. Having seen the first two Molotov cocktails explode on the stairs and in the center of the platform, David had been waiting for the next one. If they hadn’t moved, it would have landed right on top of them, so David had acted fast.
He nudged Henry toward the net, hoping that it would hold their combined weight. Thank God it had. Now they were stuck, hands still bound, looking through the safety net at the rocks and ocean twenty-eight floors below. David looked up at Lena and the Asian guy just in time to see the last of the flaming bottles land a bull’s-eye. It hit right next to Lena and exploded, covering her black dress with burning alcohol.
David watched, incredulous, as the Asian man started rolling her around on the deck, trying to extinguish the flames. The high-velocity winds of the rotorcraft were hitting them now. David looked up and saw the blue-camouflaged Huey yaw to the left. The door gunner began firing tracer rounds toward the entrance area, where Chase had thrown the bottles. Then the tracers stopped, and David saw the door gunner fall from the helicopter onto the flaming landing pad below. Chase must have gotten him, David realized. He must be close.
The violent winds of the rotor wash helped extinguish the flames on the pad. The Huey set down hard on its skids. The Asian guy dragged Lena’s limp body onto the aircraft and was going back for the door gunner when Chase came walking up the stairway of the helipad.
Chase ran up the stairs. He tried to remember how many rounds he had left, but in the melee, he’d lost count. He thought of firing at the pilots but didn’t want to risk the spinning helicopter crash killing everyone, including his brother and Henry.
He looked through the sights of his weapon, aimed at the rear passenger compartment of the helicopter. Satoshi had just rolled a limp Lena into the aircraft. The pilots were turning their heads back and forth, looking like they wanted to lift back off.
Down range, Chase had a choice. He could take out Satoshi, Lena, or both. He fired once and dropped Satoshi. Lena sat up. Her arm was black and red from burns, but her face was untouched.
She looked right at him as he kept his gun aimed at her. Chase clenched his jaw, knowing what he should do, but not wanting to do it. He should kill her, he thought. She had betrayed and attacked their country. She’d kidnapped his brother, and lied to him. His arm muscles flexed.
He fired. And missed.
David saw Chase fire once and Satoshi fell to the ground, limp. At the same time, the Huey surged up into the air and Chase hunkered down as the rotor wash tried to force him down the steps.
Chase climbed up the stairs and fired again.
Then the helicopter’s nose dipped down and to the left and it accelerated away, out to sea.
“David!”
“Over here,” he called back to his brother.
“Are you guys alright?”
Henry’s face was pressed up against the net, looking down at the water hundreds of feet below. Due to the awkward position he had fallen into, he was completely unable to move. He answered, “Oh, yeah, we’re great. Hey, they weren’t kidding about the great view you get at this hotel. Would it be possible for you to help us up?”
Chase clutched his brother’s arm and pulled him up and back onto the helipad, then he did the same with Henry. He looked up at Waleed as he approached.
Waleed said, “Well done, my friend.”
Chase looked over David. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Thanks, Chase.”
Waleed said, “What happened to Lisa Parker?”
“He means Lena.”
David said, “I saw her get put on the helo. She wasn’t in good shape. Burns all over her body. If she lives, she’s not going to be happy.”
Emirati police officers and emergency personnel began coming up through the entrance.
Chase turned to Waleed and said, “Hey, Waleed, do you think you could arrange another jet for us?”
“Of course. Where to?”
He looked at David. “Home.”
Chapter 19
Chase sat with his brother in a corner office at the CIA Headquarters. A balding man in his upper fifties entered and closed the door behind him. He sat behind the cherry desk and looked at the Manning brothers. A gold nameplate on the desk said Assistant Director, Clandestine Operations.
“Gentlemen, thank you for meeting with me. I realize that you’ve had quite a few debriefings over the past few weeks, and that likely won’t end soon.”
David said, “We understand.”
“I was a close friend of Elliot Jackson. He was a damn fine man, and one of the best spies I knew.”
The brothers didn’t respond.
“You’re likely wondering why you’re here. Or maybe you’ve been to see so many people by now that you don’t really care. Chase, Elliot told me about you as he was updating me on the Abu Musa operation. You should know that he thought very highly of you and the work you did under him.”
“That’s good to hear, sir. Thank you.”
“And if Elliot thought highly of you and trusted you as he did, then that’s good enough for me. I think this nation owes you two boys something. I think it owes you gratitude and praise. And instead, you’re getting second-guessed by a bunch of politicians. I abhor this Washington nonsense. But I didn’t get to be in this seat by not learning to play the game.”
Chase turned to look at his brother and then back at the Assistant Director. He now understood why they were here. This man was going to give them the biggest gift anyone in the CIA could provide: information.