Same routine for the fi rst door. Mac kneeling, Hard-on standing.
Door swung open with a creak. They took it in. Moonlight came in the large sash window, a naked Asian man lay on the only bed. The bloke lifted his head, opened his mouth in surprise.
Mac rose, SIG ready, levelled the suppressor and was about to fi re.
Heard Hard-on say, ‘No.’ Then saw why.
There was a woman behind the bloke.
Naked, blonde, and out to it.
CHAPTER 13
Mac hesitated, then lowered the SIG so it was at hip-height and popped the Asian man in the forehead.
Blood sprayed on the girl, but he was pretty sure he’d missed her with the slug.
The sound of voices and feet hitting fl oorboards came from next door. Urgent commands.
Hard-on keyed the throat mic. ‘Sonny, shit’s started. Bring it.
Bring it now.’
Almost immediately the staccato sound of short-burst machine gun fi re came from further down the building. Glass smashed and someone screamed. Shots fi red back, echoing inside the building.
Hard-on said, ‘Get the girl.’ Then he went to the doorframe, stood beside it and fi red in short bursts down the hallway. The air fi lled with thumps and male fear.
Mac knelt on the bloody bed, pulled the dead guy off the girl.
Two rounds came through the wall above him. He was full-on panting now, muttering to himself. The girl was Judith Hannah, he was sure. She was naked and from the breasts up she was covered in blood. There were bits of brain and bone in her hair.
She was tied to the bed head with cargo ties, both wrists, both ankles. He tried to get them loose. Reached for his own Ka-bar, fumbled, dropped the knife. He was not handling this well. Then he realised there was no response from Hannah.
‘Judith – how are you?’ He picked up the Ka-bar and slashed the ties on her wrists.
No response.
Panting, gulping and muttering like a madman, Mac checked for a pulse on her inside wrist. Pressed three fi ngers close to the bone.
Got it in one. Drugged? Catatonic?
He gave her a soft slap on the left cheek. Her eyes didn’t open.
‘Judith – talk to me!’
The shooting went on around him. He slashed the ankle ties.
Hard-on popped shots like a robot and yelled, ‘How we going, Pizza Man?’
‘Almost there.’
‘Where’s the other girl?’ shouted Hard-on before shooting again.
‘She’s not in here, mate,’ he yelled over the gunfi re.
He knew Hard-on would avoid fi ring in a downward trajectory until they knew where the younger girl was. Mac looked around in the gloom and realised he hadn’t looked behind the door. He pulled it away from the wall and looking straight back at him were big dark eyes under a fringe; a cuddly blanket clutched into a naked chest.
Total fear.
Minky’s girl, alive.
Splinters of doorframe fl ew into the room.
Hard-on yelled, ‘Fuck!’ and staggered in, clutching at his right bicep. ‘Fuck it!’
Minky’s girl screamed.
Mac leapt up, took a crouch at the doorframe. Two men down the end of the corridor were laying down indiscriminate fi re. It whistled around, sliced through the wooden walls, tore strips off the plaster ceiling. There were two sounds: loads fi ring and the building being torn apart. Mac pulled back in.
The radio crackled. ‘Blue team, this is Red. Ten more tangos from another building. We’re bogged down. Can you hang on?’
Hard-on winced, growled at his pain. Keyed the mic, said, ‘Red team this is Blue – we have both targets. Repeat both targets. We need cover. We need it now. Over.’
Radio contact ceased.
Hard-on took his hand away from his bicep. It was a mess. The shirt was torn and blood was seeping into it as Mac watched.
‘It’s a fl esh wound,’ said Hard-on. ‘But a bad one.’
‘Can you cover me if I get the girls?’ asked Mac.
Hard-on nodded, reloaded, moved back to the splintered doorframe. The shooting had died down. They were probably waiting to see if it was safe to approach. Hard-on did a quick peek, then pulled back.
Mac went to the bed, dragged Hannah up to a sitting position.
Kneeling on the fl oor he pushed her arms up, pulled them over his left shoulder and her body followed. He wrapped his left arm around the back of her knees and when he stood she hung limp down his back.
He turned for Minky’s girl. She would have to run.
Hard-on counted his fi ve then leapt into the corridor, laying down fi re. Mac would have maybe ten seconds to make a dash for it with the girls, before the return fi re came back twice as hard.
Smiling at Minky’s girl, he put his hand out.
She shook her head.
Mac smiled harder, wiggled his hand, tried to grab her wrist.
‘Come on. Let’s go.’ She pulled her hand away.
‘Come on, darlin’ – I’m here to help,’ said Mac, clicking his fi ngers at her.
Hard-on looked back to Mac. ‘On my fi ve, Pizza Man.’
Mac made another attempt at Minky’s girl and she pointed at her ankle. He looked closer: the girl was handcuffed to a pipe on the wall.
The fl esh around the steel cuff was worn and bleeding.
‘Fuck!’
With Judith Hannah on his back, he knelt to the dead rapist on the fl oor. But the guy was naked. Where would he keep his keys, Einstein? Up his arsehole?
Mac was seriously losing it. Hard-on was losing ground and yelled into the room, ‘Ready?!’
And then he smelled it.
Smoke!
The joint was on fi re.
A bullet passed inches from his face, thwacking into the opposite wall. It was time to go. Mac returned to Minky’s girl, pulled the SIG from the webbing holster, pointed it in close at the handcuff chain and pulled the trigger. Minky’s girl screamed as his fi rst shot missed.
Mac got the suppressor’s muzzle closer to the chain and tried again as the girl jerked around, scared of his gun. Her shrieks hurt his ears but this time the handcuff fell away. Mac put his hand out again and the girl took it.
They moved to the doorframe, which was now hanging by a few shreds of wood and plaster. Hard-on was ready to go, his right arm limp and dripping blood at his side. The M4 was in his left.
There was a lull in the gunfi re. Mac gripped tighter on the girl’s hand, but he could feel her pulling, scared witless. Hard-on fl icked his head and Mac took the two girls into the corridor, but as he did more gunfi re erupted. Hard-on fi red back but in the confusion the girl pulled free as Mac ran in a crouch towards the exit. He looked back and saw the wall and door give way as the girl disappeared back into the room. She was buried in wood and plaster.
Hard-on and Mac looked at one another and Hard-on shook his head.
Mac fi red back down the hallway with his SIG as Hard-on joined him, and they jogged out the way they’d
