Pike had talked of saving the many as the best course of action, that numbers alone decided the value of the effort, but that didn’t seem right anymore. It wasn’t just about numbers. Jennifer knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that someone would die today. Probably a great many people, including her. If Pike was standing when the smoke cleared, the sacrifice would be worth it.
Bakr paused to catch his breath, leaning against the corner of a building. He had run flat out for ten or eleven blocks, randomly turning left and right to lose himself in the city. So far, he hadn’t noticed anyone chasing after him — in fact he hadn’t seen a single reaction to his flight whatsoever. He believed he was momentarily safe.
Clearly, it was no coincidence the man from Guatemala was now in Tuzla. He was here because of Bakr. But if that was so, why hadn’t the man chased him? Why let him run away without a single response? Maybe the man didn’t recognize him. Maybe they knew that the partner of Sayyidd and Walid was in Tuzla but didn’t know exactly who he was. If that was the case, he was still invisible. He needed to get back into his hotel, retrieve the detonator, and head to Sarajevo. That would be a complete break from everything the enemy knew. He would once again be on the offensive, safe in his anonymity.
He considered the hotel room. It would be a great risk to return there, since the enemy could be waiting for him. On the other hand, he hadn’t told Sayyidd where he was staying, and the very fact that he had seen them nonchalantly hanging around out front indicated a coincidence, since they would never have been so brazen had they thought he was staying there. The detonator was worth the risk. He would just have to be very careful in his approach, ensuring the hotel didn’t contain a trap.
91
The men in the sedan had the presence of mind to handcuff me, but luckily they had done so after I was in the car, leaving my hands to my front. I would never have made that mistake, but I wasn’t going to complain.
In front of us was another sedan holding three men, leading the way out of town. I was sandwiched between the two guys who had taken me off the street, both of them hard looking with a military air. The man known as Mason, sitting on my left, was the only one who spoke.
“Pike, listen, this is nothing personal. I’m sure you understand. It’s just a professional mission. You’re going to die. That’s a given. The choice you have is how. We need to know where the woman is. Tell us that, and we’ll simply put a bullet in your head.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
Mason nodded. “Yeah, okay. I figured my little speech wouldn’t convince you. That’s no problem. We have plenty of time.”
We had left Tuzla and were headed south on a twisting two-lane road, the view alternating between rugged hillside and steep drop-off. The lead car was occasionally lost from sight around the sharp curves. After five minutes, we made a right turn on to a narrow blacktop that followed the ridgeline, heading deeper into the rugged terrain, away from the heavily trafficked main road.
Mason continued. “Look, I’ll give you something to think about while we drive, just to ensure you know I’ve got the stomach for the work: I’m the one who talked to your friend Ethan. Trust me, it wasn’t pleasant. I took no joy in it. The conversation lasted a long, long time.”
The driver gave a nervous laugh and said, “We’ll see how tough you are in thirty minutes, asshole. Your buddy thought he was pretty hard, too, right up until we punctured his daughter’s eyes.”
Before I could respond, he jerked the wheel to the left, shouting, “Shit! Hang on!”
We were slammed back into our seats by a collision from the rear. The car swerved lightly right, then left, coasting to a stop on the side of the road.
Mason looked out the back window, saying, “What the hell happened?”
“We got rear-ended by some Bosnian bitch. Wait a sec and I’ll get rid of her.”
“Hurry up,” Mason said. “We lost our escort. Assholes kept going around the curve without even looking back.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll throw some money at her. Give me a minute.”
I turned around and felt a shock slap through my body. Jennifer was walking slowly to the back of our car, stooped over with a hand at her back, giving the impression of an injury.
Both Mason and the man to my right were focused on the activity to the rear. I didn’t have a clue what Jennifer was doing but knew instinctively it was going to be borderline insane.
“What the fuck is that bitch doing! Jesus Christ!”
I looked back again and saw the driver doubled over holding his genitals. I watched Jennifer wind back up and kick him again, apparently attempting to drive the man’s balls up into his neck. He fell over onto the ground. Jennifer proceeded to kick him in the head with all of her might.
Mason threw open the door, screaming, “Watch Pike!”
The man to my right was still fixated on the beating the driver was receiving. The situation clicked — one man exiting the vehicle, the other focused on the fight. Neither one paying attention to me.
I drew my head back and slammed it full force into the face of the guy to my right, the hard, thick portion of skull right above my eyes caving in the brittle bones of the man’s nose and eye sockets with a sickening crunch. Rotating toward Mason, I used every bit of strength I had to kick out with both feet, catching him halfway out of the door and launching him out of the car like I’d strapped his ass into an ejection seat. I ripped the Glock out of the lifeless hands of the first man and dove out the other passenger door just as Mason recovered and began firing into the back of the car, missing me but killing his unconscious partner.
I heard Jennifer scream, “Pike!” then the sounds of gunfire.
I raised the weapon in a two-handed grip, smoothly settled the front sight post on Mason’s head, and squeezed the trigger.
“Good-bye, motherfucker.”
The force of the round threw Mason into the ditch beside the road, his head cratered open with bits of bone and brain matter oozing slowly onto the ground, his eyes looking skyward, unseeing.
Seeing no other threats, I said, “Jennifer! Come out! It’s okay.”
I ran to the passenger side of the Pajero. “Hurry up. We need to get out of here before that second car comes back, and I can’t drive with handcuffs on.”
Jennifer jumped inside and turned the key. The starter ground over but failed to catch.
“Shit! I didn’t hit you guys that hard.”
“Forget this thing, get out and go to the sedan.” I jumped out just as the other carload of men came flying back around the mountain curve at a high rate of speed.
“Too late,” I said. “Come out this side. Get behind the Pajero.”
Jennifer crawled across the seat, exiting the passenger side and ending up on the ground next to me. Before I would lose the chance, I ran in a crouch to Mason, ripping the spare magazines for the Glock 19 from his belt.
The car came to a stop, both doors flying open, the men crouching behind them preparing to fire. The air grew silent, with the occasional whisper from the men carrying across the roadway.
