Heroes In Uniform (70 page)

“He’s at your twelve o’clock,” a sniper reported.

Everything went into slo-mo.

Rahim emerged out of the shadows, his silhouette outlined against the rust-colored containers for a split second as he jumped to the deck. His boots hit with a solid thud. He turned slightly toward Wade, his expression hardening when they made eye contact. Both of them had their rifles up. Rahim fired as he whirled. Wade ducked but not in time to avoid the bullet that slammed into the lower portion of his vest. The round punched into his body armor like a sledgehammer, knocking the air from his lungs and dropping him to his knees. Pain tore through him as he let the momentum carry him to his belly. Fighting to drag air into his starving lungs, Wade brought his rifle muzzle up and fired two rounds at Rahim’s running legs.

His aim was off slightly but he still managed to wing him in the calf. Rahim crashed down face-first on the deck. Over the roaring in his ears, Wade hauled himself to his feet and raced after him. Everything slowed even more. His focus narrowed to his quarry and the weapon in his hands.

Forcing himself to stop to steady his aim, Wade tucked the stock into his shoulder and pushed out a wheezy breath as he squeezed the trigger. A metallic ping rang out. Rahim yelled in pain as the rifle fell from his grip and clattered to the deck. Wade skidded to a stop and dropped as Rahim spun back to get it, his right hand bleeding from the bullet wound.

“Put your hands up,” Wade called out in Pashto.

Rahim’s vivid blue eyes flashed with raw fury.

“Holding on target,” the sniper added. Wade blocked out the distraction and the knowledge that his teammates were all waiting for the order to engage, dying to get into the action.

“You’re surrounded,” Wade continued, his voice a breathless rasp as he fought past the pain throbbing in his belly. Only a few dozen yards stood between Rahim and the stern of the ship. The bastard knew he was surrounded, that his only option for surviving was to surrender.

They both knew he’d never do it. Still, Wade had to try.

They’d narrowed down the bomb’s location to one of seven possibilities. But they didn’t know which one, and they didn’t know how long they had to find and disarm it. If Rahim planned to do the suicide by cop routine, Wade had to somehow get that vital piece of intel from him first. “There’s no way out. Give it up, brother.” The last word came out by habit.

Rahim stared back at him, pure hatred in that familiar, chilling gaze. His lips peeled back over his teeth in a feral smile that said he was looking forward to what would happen next. “Just you and me finish this,” he rasped back. “And you’re not my
brother
.”

A chill snaked down Wade’s spine at the venom in those words. Before he could take a single step Rahim’s uninjured hand flashed down and came up with a pistol. Wade reacted instantly, dropping to one knee to get out of the line of fire. A searing pain hit his left forearm a split second before he squeezed the trigger again, knocking off his aim just enough that the bullet skimmed Rahim’s right upper arm as he whirled and raced for the stern.

He distantly registered the blood trickling down his arm and dripping from his wrist. A taunting shot. Rahim knew the leverage he had over Wade and the others, and that all the firepower in the world couldn’t get it from him if he died.

Rahim wanted this up close and personal, the two of them locked in a death struggle. And as it was the only way Wade could get what he needed, he had no choice but to give it to him. Erin’s face flashed through his mind. Her warm, loving smile lighting up the darkest parts of his heart and banishing the ghosts and regrets he carried with him. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could get back to her.

Rage and icy determination filled him as he stared at Rahim.

Let’s do this
.

Letting out a guttural roar, Wade surged to his feet and tore after his enemy.

* * *

They needed him alive.

They’d confirmed it the moment Rahim had taken that first shot and no one had returned fire. They needed him to find out where the bomb was, and he was the only way to make that happen.

Grim resolve curved Rahim’s lips into a smile as he ran. Even if he survived what came next, he would never reveal the bomb’s location, not under any form of torture.

It didn’t matter that he was outmanned and outgunned. Even as they congratulated themselves on cornering him, he had still won.

With that burden lifted from him, he felt suddenly lighter, stronger. His boots pounded against the steel deck, the reverberations ringing up through his wounded leg, in time with the throb in his bleeding hand. He barely felt the pain. He was more than ready to die and become a martyr for Islam. And Allah was rewarding him by ensuring he would get his final wish—a battle to the death with the man who had betrayed him.

The thud of rapid footfalls behind him told him Sandberg was close and gaining. It didn’t matter. They weren’t going to shoot him in the head. Weren’t going to risk wounding him badly enough for him to die. They were willing to allow Sandberg to sacrifice himself, and likely many others, in the hopes that they could capture him. The hairs on the backs of his arms stood on end as goosebumps raced across his skin. Sixty feet away, the stern of the ship loomed. He raced straight toward it without slowing, anticipating the moment when Sandberg caught up to him.

Another shot rang out. Pain exploded in his left shoulder. The impact knocked him off his feet. He gritted his teeth against a cry of pain as black dots swarmed his vision. His chin glanced off the deck as he sprawled out on his stomach. Rising above the agony, he rolled onto his side and reached for the pistol he’d dropped. A heartbeat later, a heavy weight slammed into him. The back of his head bounced off the steel, momentarily stunning him.

He distantly heard the clatter of a weapon then Sandberg was on him. All his reflexes kicked in, his body in full survival mode, giving him an almost supernatural strength he’d never felt before. He grabbed hold of the powerful forearm shoved against his windpipe and twisted to the side in time to avoid a hook to the jaw. Sandberg hissed in a breath as his fist connected with the deck instead, and in that split second Rahim went on the offensive. He drove his knee up, hitting Sandberg where the round had impacted the vest.

Sandberg grunted, his forearm slipping sideways off Rahim’s throat. Rahim bucked and flipped them over, reversing their positions. His weight landed hard on Sandberg and he used it to his advantage, pressing his left elbow into the wound on Sandberg’s forearm. Face turning red from the pressure around his throat, his enemy’s eyes filled with silent fury and a resolve Rahim had to respect. They heaved and twisted, bodies deadlocked as they grappled for superiority in this desperate struggle.

The pain began to bleed through the haze of rage and adrenaline. Rahim’s muscles shook with the strain.

“Where’s the bomb, asshole?” Sandberg growled in English.

It was the first time Rahim ever heard him speak it. He gritted his teeth and let out an answering snarl, enraged all over again that this man had duped him for so long. He’d trusted him, implicitly and without reservation. The pain and humiliation of it was more than he could bear. He was going to inflict it all back and then some before he died. “Fuck you,” he managed past the sudden restriction in his throat.

Feeling his strength beginning to wane, he dug down deep and twisted with all his might. An angry roar tore out of him as they rolled. Sandberg scrambled to stop them, his boots slipping on the deck. Rahim kept pushing, inching them closer and closer to the side. Finally they reached the tipping point and went over the edge. A moment’s freefall, then they hit a small platform on the rear starboard part of the ship. The impact knocked them apart and squeezed the breath from his lungs.

Move, move!

He narrowly avoided the elbow to the head as he jerked to the side. Lashing out with his boot, he connected with Sandberg’s kneecap, a spike of elation flashing through him at the man’s pained shout. Sandberg lunged for him and again Rahim rolled them, ready to take Sandberg over the edge and into the freezing gray-green water below.

The veins in Sandberg’s temples stood out as he struggled to hold him down, nostrils flared and mouth pinched into a flat, white line in the midst of that dark beard. Rahim flailed in the unbreakable grip, the pain of his wounds and the fatigue sapping his remaining strength. Sandberg’s powerful arms contracted even harder, squeezing against his windpipe, obstructing the flow of blood through his carotid arteries.

“Tell me where it is!” Sandberg demanded, his whole body quivering from the effort of holding him down.

The bomb should be close to the target already. Only minutes until it detonated.

Rahim laughed and went lax in the brutal grip.

Sandberg stilled in surprise for an instant. He shifted his weight off him, giving Rahim just enough time to snatch the knife from the sheath at his hip.

He watched Sandberg’s eyes snap toward the matte black blade, widen. He flashed out a hand to ward it off, but Rahim drove the KA-BAR upward, slicing through clothing and flesh as it ripped through Sandberg’s thigh and hip. The man yelled and caught Rahim’s wrist, wrenching it backward in a brutal grip until the bones snapped. His own howl of agony rent the air.

With his remaining strength he twisted once again. He lost his grip on the knife. Ignoring it, he focused solely on pushing Sandberg the remaining few inches off the platform. Their gazes locked. Rahim read the determination in Sandberg’s face, the rage and the unexpected flash of regret.

Too late for that. “I
trusted
you!” he bit out, glaring up at him
.
Rahim was going to send him to hell where he’d suffer endlessly for his betrayal in ways Sandberg couldn’t even imagine.

Baring his teeth, steeling his resolve to meet his death bravely, he bellowed his rage as he wrenched his body sideways, yanking Sandberg with him. Sandberg’s eyes widened, the knowledge of his death registering there an instant before his arm flashed up in a desperate bid to find a handhold. A deep, hideous pain exploded low in Rahim’s belly. They both froze as his agonized scream ripped through the air. It paralyzed him, suffocated him.

Sandberg shoved him onto his back and scrambled to his knees, his gaze cutting to the handle of the knife protruding from low in his abdomen. “Fuck!” he snarled.

He couldn’t let them take him. Refused to be locked up for the rest of his days. Suffering a few minutes’ more of agony was far better than what he’d have to endure if he allowed them to take him alive.

Staring at the knife handle, Rahim battled through the haze of agony and gathered his remaining strength. In one last, desperate move, he grabbed it and tore it out of his body before Sandberg could stop him, tearing it sideways to slash through his bowel and as many arteries as possible.

“You fucking crazy bastard,” Sandberg snarled, immediately pressing both hands to the wound and pressing down with his body weight to slow the bleeding.

The gesture was futile, and they both knew it.

Blood pulsed out from beneath the restraining hands. Already he could feel his body growing cold, weak. He didn’t have enough strength to shove Sandberg overboard. A chilling fear began to take hold. He’d failed to kill Sandberg and now he was dying, before the bomb could go off.

As his mind floated he heard Sandberg snapping orders to the others, asking for paramedics and an airlift to the hospital. The pressure on his abdomen remained solid, and he jerked when strong fingers gripped his jaw, forced his gaze upward. Sandberg’s bottomless brown eyes stared down into his. “Where,” he pleaded. “Just tell me where, damn you.”

His answering laugh turned into a pained wheeze and he let his eyelids drift shut. “Never.”

Sandberg cursed and issued more orders. Running footsteps. Urgent voices. Someone tearing open his shirt and pulling away the tactical vest. He barely felt the cool air washing over his bare skin, too immersed in the pain to care.

A hard hand gripped his jaw again. “
Gary
. You look at me, goddammit.”

His eyes snapped open to find Sandberg still there above him, dark eyes boring into his, willing him to live.
Gary
. The name and identity he’d abandoned when he’d crawled his way out of that pit and into the light. Hatred and resentment swelled, enough to override the pain. “My name…is
Rahim
,” he rasped, shaking all over. The paramedic next to him had the defibrillator ready. His heart would fail soon. Only a few more minutes…

He didn’t know how much time passed before Sandberg sucked in a sharp breath and his head snapped up. “
What
?” The word came out strangled, his face paling beneath the dark stubble as he stared toward the dock. Then his eyes snapped to Rahim’s, full of horror and disbelief.

And in that instant, he knew.

A slow, satisfied smile spread across Rahim’s face. He wanted to laugh in joy but didn’t have the strength. “I…win,” he whispered. Victorious, despite their every effort to prevent it.

Cold swept through him in an arctic blast, obliterating the temporary warmth of victory. His heart lurched then stilled. He felt his eyes bulge, his mouth opening as his throat worked, desperate for air. As though from a great distance he heard the urgent voices around him, felt the paddles placed on his chest. In that last moment of consciousness he stared up at the clouds, where his spirit would soon soar to meet the God he’d served with such devotion.

Danger Close: Chapter Twenty-One

“You’re gonna wear out your lip, doing that.”

Realizing she was biting her lower lip again, Erin glanced up from the dial of the sphygmomanometer and offered a guilty smile at Schafer. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Was just an observation.”

She squeezed the bulb to re-inflate the blood pressure cuff and went back to studying the gauge. A few moments later she pulled her stethoscope from her ears and draped it around the back of her neck. “One-oh-five over sixty,” she said, tearing the Velcro apart and removing the cuff.