Collard leapt out from behind the SUV, firing bursts of shots as he moved, concentrated on the fighters hiding behind the minibus across from the downed SUV. Daniels followed a moment later, dragging Jack behind him and shooting at another flaming minibus. Inhaling quickly, Ethan jumped out, popping shots off at fighters who were edging out from behind their hideouts.
They ran fast, tearing down the center of the road and shooting at anything that moved. Daniels grasped Jack’s shirt in one fist and balanced his M-4 in front of him one-handed. Ethan trailed Jack’s footsteps, shadowing his every move as he popped shots at the fighters chasing behind.
A zinging bullet slammed into Daniels outstretched arm. Blood sprayed, flying through the air and staining Jack’s shirt as Daniels went down, tripping at the impact.
“Fuck!” he shouted, reaching for his arm.
“Go! Go!” Ethan urged Jack forward, up against Collard, as he grabbed Daniels by the back of his bulletproof vest and dragged him down the road. “Daniels, talk to me!”
“Fucking hell!” Daniels roared. His hand covered the bullet hole, blood oozing through his fingers. “I don’t think the artery was hit!”
Their radios crackled to life. “Quarterback, be advised. Reinforcements en route from the British embassy. Helo inbound.”
Thank God
. The cavalry was coming. They wouldn’t have to run the whole way, if they could just survive this damn street.
More shots rang out in front of Collard’s feet. He jumped back, spun, and fired on a fighter leaning out of a broken second-story window in the Chad embassy. “We’ve got to get off the street!”
Ethan looked left and right. A minibus was just ahead of Collard, seemingly inviting. Ethan’s stomach sank.
Collard grabbed Jack and headed for the minibus as more shots rang out. It was a soldier’s move: seek cover and concealment, and regroup as you ran. But Ethan had a bad feeling about the minibuses, a sinking, frantic, sickening feeling that tugged on his soul as he watched them run. “No!” he hollered. “Collard, Goddammit!”
Jack and Collard ran closer, drawing near the minibus. Ethan grabbed Daniels, dragging his friend to the side of the road, and then dropped into a shallow drainage ditch in front of the embassy. “Cover the rear,” Ethan grunted at Daniels, shoving his M-4 back in his hands. Bloody, Daniels took the weapon and aimed up the road, where a crowd of jihadis were advancing slowly, chanting and firing into the air.
“Fuck…” Ethan hissed as Collard hustled Jack against the side of the minibus. Swallowing, he leapt out of the ditch, ready to run to Jack’s side. He couldn’t leave him out there. He couldn’t leave him exposed to a trap. In his mind, he saw the minibus exploding, saw Jack disappear in a fireball. Ethan couldn’t breathe as the images grabbed him.
No!
In the back of the minibus, a jihadi popped up, an RPG in his hand. Collard spun, and he shot through the windows, shattering glass and hitting the jihadi in the chest. The fighter lunged out through the window, trying to grab Collard. Collard swung down with the butt of his rifle, smashing the stock into the fighter’s skull, and then pulled his body through the window. He fired three rounds into the fighter’s chest as he lay on the ground.
The jihadi didn’t move.
Jack huddled near the back of the minibus, blood-spattered, frozen.
Ethan met his gaze.
“Ethan…” Daniels called. “Something’s fucking happening!” Behind them, the swarm of fighters in the road had crammed together, standing in a tight bunch, away from the sides of the street and behind the nearest flaming minibus.
Ethan whirled around, his weapon up. He saw the crowd of fighters, standing, watching.
Waiting.
He spun again. Saw Jack leaning against the minibus, next to Collard. On either side of the street, two- and three-story embassy buildings of brick and glass and columns rose over the street. Other than the fighter in the minibus, dead at Collard’s feet, there were no other people around them.
Memories hit him, dredged up from countless missions where he thought he’d never get out alive.
Building Contained IED warning signs. Be on the lookout for unexplained empty zones. Large buildings that can be turned into shrapnel. People avoiding a building or area.
“No!” Ethan roared. He took off, running toward Jack.
A volcanic eruption bloomed on either side of the street, sound and fury and a blinding blast that blew Ethan off his feet. He hit the ground hard, skidding and rolling, and lost his weapon. All around, buildings blew apart, bricks and glass and metal flying every which way. Walls crumpled and collapsed. Fire exploded, flashing as the bombs hidden in the embassy buildings ignited. Piles of weapons stacked near the bombs lit off, and rockets singed through the air, haphazard and without direction. Fiery hail rained down on the street, debris and detritus falling to the ground. A ragged metal minibus hood blasted over Ethan’s head, slicing into the ground and standing straight up, embedded in the concrete. The ruins of the embassies hitting the street sounded like pounding rain on the ground, all around Ethan.
His teeth shook as the ground kept shaking, booms rocking the air all around. He thought he heard his radio, but the sound was too far away, echoing and tinny. Blaring roared in his ears, a ringing that felt like he was inside the booming echo of the Liberty Bell.
“Quarterback! Report! Quarterback, what is your status! Do you have Vigilant?”
Another voice crackled through the radio, heavily accented. “Foxhound 23 on station in one mike.” The British. They were only a minute out.
Jack. Where was Jack?
Ethan pulled himself to his hands and knees, struggling to move. He couldn’t breathe, and his leg wouldn’t move. He tried to crawl, and his knee gave way. He fell to his face, lying in the dust and smoking debris of the road.
Goddammit! He had to get to Jack!
Through the smoke, Ethan could just make out the silhouette of the minibus Collard and Jack had been next to. He wiped his eyes, struggling to focus through his double vision.
Two bodies lay on the ground, completely still.
“No!” Ethan bellowed. He tried to drag himself forward, pulling with his arms. “No!”
One head lifted, and Ethan saw Jack’s soot-covered face look his way. The whites of his eyes gleamed through the smoky haze.
Ethan froze, gasping. A sob tore from him, desperate and aching.
Collard looked his way next, motioning for Ethan to crawl their way. He saw their lips move, but his ears were still ringing, and he couldn’t make out the words. He could finally see, though, that they were sheltering under the minibus. Collard must have rolled them under when the first blast went off.
Behind the minibus, Ethan saw three helos hover over the street, beating away the smoke from the explosion and the raging fires. Gunfire erupted from the sides of the choppers, raining down the street at the fighters as soldiers fast roped to the ground.
Hands grabbed Ethan’s legs.
He rolled and came face-to-face with a group of jihadis.
Ethan tried to kick, but only one leg worked. There were so many fighters, suddenly swarming him, grabbing his legs and grabbing his arms. He thrashed, but they held fast. The helos fired on the jihadis, but Ethan spotted a fighter kneeling beside him with an RPG and another six fighters all lined up with assault rifles, firing back at the British.
He fought, thrashing and kicking and punching as much as he could. The jihadis kicked him in the stomach and the ribs, and he felt the impact even through his bulletproof vest. One fighter started punching him and didn’t stop, and his head smacked against the concrete, bouncing hard. Blood filled his mouth. Coughing, Ethan spat blood and debris into his face.
The jihadi pushed the barrel of his rifle against Ethan’s forehead, digging the metal tip into his skin. The grit of the road dug into the back of his skull. Ethan gasped, struggling for air. Jack’s face swam in his mind; smiling, laughing, loving. He cried out, his eyes going wide as he wished, for one last time, to see Jack. In his last moment, it was all he wanted. Just to see the love of his life.
The jihadi leaned down, pushing his rifle hard into Ethan’s head.
Ethan’s world went dark.
* * * * *
Beneath the shattered minibus, Jack shrieked, pounding on the concrete and thrashing against the British soldier who was tugging him out by his legs. “Go get him!” Jack hollered. “Jesus Christ, go get Ethan!”
The British soldier ignored him. He grabbed Jack by the neck of his bulletproof vest and hauled him up to his feet. “I’ve got the package!” the soldier shouted.
A second team of soldiers dug Daniels out of the drainage ditch, flinging away flat pieces of metal that had trapped and covered him. Collard helped them, hauling Daniels out and helping to carry the unconscious agent back to the chopper. On the ground, five British soldiers fired on the crowd, trying to keep them at bay.
The crowd fired back. One jihadi aimed an RPG at the chopper coming in for a landing.
“We’ve got to go! Now!” The Brits rallied back, retreating and shooting as they moved for the chopper.
Jack struggled against the soldier holding him tight. “Fuck you!” he shouted. “We’re not leaving without Ethan!”
Collard turned dark eyes to Jack. “We can’t get him!” he shouted over the chopper’s rotor wash. “They’ve got him!”
“We are not leaving him behind!” Jack roared.
Collard hopped into the chopper, pulling Daniels up with him. “The job is to get you to safety, Mr. President! That’s the mission! Not saving Ethan!” Collard grabbed Jack and hauled him into the chopper, with the Brits help. “He would put you on this chopper and leave himself behind!”
Every Secret Service agent knew it—the president’s life always came first, even before their own, even if they had to leave a man behind.
“Fuck you!” Furious, Jack struggled against Collard, trying to leap from the helo. Collard grabbed him, holding him in an iron grasp, and fell back in the chopper. The Brits piled in, still firing on the crowd. One soldier downed the man with the RPG, but another fighter picked it up.
“Go! Go!” The leader of the British team shouted to the pilots. “Go now!”
“No!” Jack bellowed as the chopper lifted off. He thrashed against Collard, kicking out, and one of the British soldiers jumped on his legs, holding him still. “Get off me!”
Beneath the chopper, the fighters hefted Ethan’s unconscious body in the air, holding him aloft in a sickening parody of body surfing. Gunshots fired off after the British helicopter, chasing their retreat through the smoke and the devastation.
Chapter Thirteen
BREAKING NEWS - President attacked in Addis Ababa; Seven Americans Injured, One Missing
The president came under heavy attack in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia today while en route to the Assembly of the African Union meeting to discuss the situation in Nairobi. The president was forced from his motorcade by a high-intensity IED. The United States Secret Service provided protection for him until the nearby British embassy was able to rescue the president and his detail. Other Secret Service agents came under fire in a separate attack on the Secret Service helicopter providing aerial security and on the agents manning posts along the motorcade’s route. General Zabanya was also killed in the attack. Seven Secret Service agents were wounded in the attack: three in a helicopter crash, three during a street battle while trying to evacuate the president and other officials back to the airport, and one critically after being stabbed in the neck. One agent remains missing, possibly captured by jihadist fighters.
* * * * *
The Brits ferried Jack, Collard, and Daniels all the way across Nairobi to the American embassy.
The American embassy was on lockdown, and Marines scrambled as the British arrived, guiding them in to the landing pads in the courtyard. The ambassador and the embassy medical staff waited along with the Marine lieutenant colonel in charge of embassy security.
When Jack jumped out of the helo, blood and soot covered, his suit torn, and his face covered in dirt and tear tracks, everyone paused. The Ambassador’s mouth dropped open as he froze.
Jack stormed up to the Marine officer. “Colonel, we have a man missing out there. I need your men to go out and retrieve him.”
Collard helped Daniels onto the waiting stretcher before following Jack.
The Marine officer stared at Jack, hesitating. “Sir…we don’t have the authority to do that—”
“I’m giving you the authority!” Jack roared. Ethan was out there, in the hands of whomever had attacked them. They had to get him back, and get him back now. He’d accept nothing else. “Go and get our man!”
Swallowing, the officer’s eyes tightened. “Sir, my orders are to put you on a chopper and get you out to the
Arleigh Burke
in the Red Sea, stat. You’ve been attacked, sir, and we need to preserve the United States government and get you to safety.”
Collard shifted behind Jack, pressing against his side. “Colonel,” he said, “I believe you have a unit of special operators here. Assigned as backup from Djibouti for the president’s visit?”
The Marine officer nodded, once.
Collard tugged on Jack’s arm, drawing him to the side. “Mr. President,” he said, speaking softly. “You need to get out of here.”
“I am not leaving without Ethan.” Jack glared hard at Collard. How could Collard leave Ethan behind? His friend? Ethan had talked about Agent Collard before, had shared stories of their friendship. Collard was supposed to be Ethan’s best friend, like a brother to him. Jack didn’t know the man, but he knew Ethan liked him, knew Ethan trusted him. And now?
How could Collard have done that? How could he have left Ethan there? Jack wanted to tear into the man, shake him until he admitted he was wrong. Until Ethan was back at their side, safe and smiling again.
“Mr. President,” Collard insisted. “Ethan would want you to get all the way to safety.”
“Don’t you dare tell me what Ethan would want!” Jack hissed. “You don’t have that right!”
Collard’s eyes flashed. “Ethan ordered me to do anything and everything to save your life,” he growled. “Even leave him behind if I had to make that call. I didn’t think I ever would, but I just did. I just left my best friend behind, Mr. President, because he believes in you and because he loves you.”