Payback (27 page)

He
raised the weapon to her head and she closed her eyes.

“He’s about to eliminate one of the hostages, taking the shot.”

Niner
squeezed the trigger and the target dropped, the two doctors jumping up and
down in a panic for a moment, their screams reaching the tree line he was
hiding in. They bolted for a door in the community center as other hostiles
rushed toward the building, firing blindly at their unseen enemy. He and Jimmy
along with two other Brits were covering the northern approach to the village,
a British unit of four the south. The river to the east blocked any escape or
risk of reinforcements, and the west was where Dawson and the rest were
executing their insertion.

He
scanned for his next target as Jimmy’s weapon fired a single shot, it now open
season on the hostiles. The orders of the day were to eliminate from a distance
and not approach. There were only enough bunny suits for the insertion team
which meant he and the others had to sit things out on the sidelines while
trying to make sure the hostages stayed alive long enough to be reached.

Someone
had spotted the team, which meant all hell was breaking loose.

He could
hear disciplined shots coming from the other side of the village, the British
team engaging the enemy. He squeezed the trigger, another hostile getting too
close to the building dropping. Suddenly a group of four burst from a set of
doors in the community center and shoved through the other set the doctors had
just gone through, no one able to get a shot off before they disappeared.

“Four
hostiles just entered the building after the doctors, over.”

Sarah jumped then screamed as she realized the shot she heard was
too far away to have been from Mustapha’s weapon. She opened her eyes and
looked down as his grip on her arm loosened then gave way, a rapidly growing
stain in his chest indicating where he had been hit. More shouting and she saw
more of Koroma’s men running toward them, Tanya screaming beside her.

Grabbing
Tanya by the arm she rushed toward the clinic doors, pushing them open just as
several bullets tore into the ground behind them. Yanking Tanya inside, she
shoved the door shut, looking for a lock.

There
was none.

She
pointed at a nearby table. “Help me move this in front of the door.”

She
grabbed it and a still shaking Tanya took the other end. They quickly moved the
far too light table to the door as Sarah searched for a better alternative. She
spotted a broom standing in the corner and grabbed it, sticking the wooden pole
through the door handles.

She knew
it wouldn’t hold.

“Gear
up, they might not follow us.”

Tanya
nodded, rushing over to the area containing their protective gear and quickly
shoved her legs inside the bunny suit as Sarah did the same. She zipped up the
front of her suit, snapped on her gloves and pulled on her boots as the gunfire
and shouting continued from outside. This was it, the moment they had been
waiting for, and it could be all over in minutes.

More
than enough time for just one of Koroma’s men to execute their final orders.

Kill
the doctors.

She
snapped her goggles in place then pulled the hood over her head, shoving the
plastic visor over her face just as somebody slammed against the door.

Tanya
grabbed her by the arm, pulling her through the curious onlookers of Zone One, tossing
the sheet to Zone Two aside as the broom splintered behind them, the table
shoved aside. Sarah stole a glance over her shoulder to see at least four men
rushing inside after them.

“Run!”

Tanya
let go of her arm and sprinted as fast as her gear would allow her toward Zone
Three, flinging the sheet out of their way. Sarah rushed after her, stealing
glances over her shoulder, spotting the men following them without hesitation
as they burst into the quarantine area, unconcerned with the risk to their
lives.

The door
ahead of them burst open, armed men rushing toward them. Tanya dropped to her
knees, screaming as she raised her hands, covering her head. Sarah skidded to a
halt and cringed, protecting her head as gunfire erupted from the two men in
front of them, their weapons belching lead at them, their muzzles flashing in
the dimmed light of this abattoir of Mother Nature.

But she
wasn’t hit.

She
opened her eyes to see the men rushing past her, still firing. She spun, seeing
their pursuers dropping as the shots she thought meant for them found their
mark, and within seconds they were all down.

  One of
them turned back toward them as the rest rushed forward. He was wearing some
sort of gas mask obscuring his features.

“We’re
American and British soldiers. Are you Doctors Sarah Henderson and Tanya Danko?”

She
nodded, her chest suddenly beginning to heave as sobs of relief escaped, tears
flooding into her goggles as she turned and hugged Tanya, the two of them collapsing
into a heap on the floor, exhausted physically, drained emotionally, as the
dead and dying around them watched, too weak to react.

“Let’s
get outside,” said the man, urging them to their feet with a helping hand. They
exited the rear of the building and on instinct Tanya grabbed the hose and
began spraying Sarah as several soldiers gathered around, taking covering
positions. The gunfire was sporadic, the sounds of several guns firing rapidly,
other weapons, fired in single bursts, seemed to be coming from all directions.

She
ignored it all, the possibility of being killed by a stray bullet not even
crossing her mind as the horrors of the past days were quickly pushed aside
with the realization they had been rescued.

Thank
you, Daddy!

She took
the hose from Tanya and returned the favor, her shoulders still shaking from
her sobs of joy and relief, and when done, she ripped her headgear off, tossing
it aside as she unzipped the suit, having to catch herself as she momentarily
forgot protocol. She took a deep breath and looked at Tanya.

“Protocol.”

Her
friend nodded, sniffling inside her facemask as they completed the deliberate
process, the last thing they needed now an accidental infection after having
survived everything that had happened to them. When they were finally done, she
realized she hadn’t heard any gunfire for minutes.

She
looked at the soldier that had burst through the doors and saved them, then
grabbed the hose, spraying him down from head to toe, finished, she handed the
hose to Tanya who began hosing the other soldiers down who had entered the
building.

“Is it
safe to take this thing off?” asked the soldier who had entered the clinic
first.

She
nodded.

“Good.”
He pulled it off revealing a face she wasn’t expecting to see. He didn’t look
like any soldier she had ever seen, his hair disheveled and longer than the
usual buzz cut she was anticipating. And the week’s worth of facial hair looked
at once sexy and also court martial worthy.

Could
he be civilian?

“I’m
Agent White, Bureau of Diplomatic Services.” He pulled a satellite phone out of
his pocket and dialed a number. “Go for Henderson?” He nodded, then handed her
the phone. “Someone wants to speak to you.”

She took
the phone, holding it up to her ear, curious. “Hello?”

“Sarah
honey! It’s Daddy!”

She
dropped to her knees once again, her shoulders heaving at the sound of a voice
she thought she’d never hear again.

Gateway Village Apartments, Baltimore, Maryland

Red walked through the small apartment, it cluttered with the
necessities of life stolen an item at a time, closets jammed with individual toilet
paper rolls, paper towels and feminine hygiene products, along with cleaning
supplies in bulk containers. The urinator’s cousin worked as a cabbie but also
a janitor at a local hospital, it clear he was pilfering supplies to supplement
his family’s meagre existence.

He
could have been stealing much worse.

There
appeared to be little by the way of luxuries here, a few hand crafted items
that looked like they were either carved in his homeland or made by local
artisans originally from there, along with an old CRT television and a $30 DVD
player.

And no
phone.

Red
turned to FBI Agent-in-Charge McKinnon. “Does he have a cellphone?”

McKinnon
nodded. “Yeah, we’re trying to trace it now but it looks like it’s been turned
off.” He held up an evidence bag with a piece of paper inside. “But we found
this.”

Red took
the bag and frowned as he read the letter from their suspect to his wife and
child, apologizing for what he was about to do, but justifying it as punishment
for what had happened to their native Sierra Leone. He shook his head.

“This
isn’t over yet.”

McKinnon
took the bag back, handing it to one of his underlings. “Definitely not.
Unfortunately we’ve found nothing yet that tells us where he went. There’s not
a single document here or piece of paper here, no computer, no internet access.
These people were poor but up until now, law abiding.

“Just
like all the rest.” Red pursed his lips, walking into the single bedroom, a
double bed wedged in one corner, a single at the foot of it with a bright pink
blanket adorned with hand-stitched lions, zebras and giraffes.

Whoever
sewed this has skills.

It was
too bad those type of skills were no longer valued in mainstream America today.
A person who could create such a masterpiece could make an excellent living if
they knew how to market those skills, and more importantly, if they knew those
skills were actually worth marketing. In today’s America most people looked for
the cheapest bed covering, made by slave labor in China or Bangladesh, rather
than an expensive handmade item that would last a lifetime.

It was
sad that so many immigrants came to America with basic skills that we no longer
valued as a society, but cooed over at the local antique shop as quaint and
worth top dollar.

And of
course we told them their skills were worthless.

A
commotion from the main living area drew him out of the bedroom. A woman
carrying a small child, maybe Bryson’s age, was shouting at the police guarding
the entrance in heavily accented English.

“Who are
you? What are you doing in my home? I demand you get out! I know my rights!”

McKinnon
quickly headed for the door to try and defuse the situation. “Ma’am, I’m FBI
Agent-in-Charge McKinnon. Are you Mrs. Buhari?”

“FBI?”
Anger turned to fear very quickly as the woman took a step back, gripping her
child a little tighter, tears already running down the little girl’s cheeks.

“Yes,
ma’am. Are you Mrs. Buhari?”

She
nodded, hesitantly, turning slightly, placing her shoulder between McKinnon and
her child. “Why? What has happened? Why are you here?”

“We’re
looking for your husband, ma’am. Do you have any idea where he is?”

Her eyes
narrowed, but Red could see almost every muscle in her body tense up.

She
knows why we’re here.

“No, I
don’t know.”

“Shouldn’t
he be at work?”

She
hesitated, realizing she had been caught in a lie. “Well, yes, I mean, of
course he’s at work.”

McKinnon
held out his hand, inviting her inside. “Why don’t you come inside, ma’am, so
we can do this in private. Your neighbors don’t need to hear this.”

She
looked over her shoulder and Red suppressed a smile as several doors could be
heard slamming shut. Mrs. Buhari stepped inside and McKinnon motioned at one of
his men.

“Why
don’t you get Mrs. Buhari a glass of water?” he said as he motioned toward a
threadbare chair that would have looked at home on the set of Archie Bunker.
She sat down, still trying to direct her child’s face away from the gathered
strangers. Remarkably the little girl hadn’t made a sound.

McKinnon
sat on a vinyl couch, the wheeze of air squeezing from the cushion an almost
comic relief to the tension in the room.

“Now,
ma’am, we need to find your husband as quickly as possible. We believe he may
be in serious trouble.”

“Wh-why?
What has he done?”

Interesting
choice of words.

“As far
as we know he’s done nothing, yet.” McKinnon motioned for the letter to be
brought over. “He wrote you this.” He showed her the letter and Buhari quickly
read it, tears rolling down her face by the time she finished. “Do you know
what he’s referring to?”

She
shook her head, quickly. A little too quickly.

McKinnon
caught it.

“I think
you do, Mrs. Buhari. If we find him before he does anything serious, he’ll be
in a lot less trouble than after.”

Buhari
looked about the room, most eyes on her, clearly making her discomfort nearly
unbearable. It was a tactic that could work, but it could also backfire. She
might spill her guts under the pressure, or she might fight back by clamming up
if she supported her husband’s actions in any way.

And her
quick head shake seemed to suggest there was at least tacit support there.

Red
turned to Spock. “Wait outside,” he said quietly, hoping McKinnon would take
the hint.

He did.

McKinnon
made a slight motion with his head and most of the room emptied out into the
hallway, Red taking up the rear, staying near the door so he could hear what
was being said.

“Now,
ma’am, it’s clear you love your husband, and I’m sure you don’t want anything
bad to happen to him, especially with such a pretty little girl depending on
him so much.” There was a murmured reply he couldn’t hear. “Good, then I need
you to help me. Do you have any idea where he might be?”