“My God,” Laurel said, as she closed her eyes and stepped toward the window. She opened her eyes again and saw the two large Americans being pulled through the rowdy crowd of protesters. She looked to the right and saw a hundred more Berlin policemen in riot gear trying to push through the crowd, their shields and clubs making a path as people started pushing back. All of a sudden, James McCabe’s plan started to open up before her.
“Yes, praise be to Allah,” the Mechanic said, as he saw the ecstasy cross Laurel’s beautiful face. “I see you are coming to grips with the domino theory.”
The woman didn’t say anything as her thumb played over the detonator that would cause five U.S.-made claymore mines to explode, sending five thousand ball-bearing-sized missiles flying into the mass of humanity.
“God is great,” she whispered.
Down below in the street, Jack and Carl didn’t think the angry mob was going to let them get to the police cruisers. The cars were being jostled by the protesters, each being rocked back and forth on its suspension. Suddenly Jack was pushed to the ground along with Everett. When Collins looked up, he saw that the same man he had threatened before entering the apartment building was standing above them. He had a crooked grin on his lips as Collins saw he wasn’t alone. The police were there and trying desperately to pull the skinheads away from their prisoners. Jack heard a loud grunt behind him and managed to roll onto his back just as one of the skinheads pulled a large knife from the man who had just killed Joss Zinsser upstairs. The man looked over at Jack and Carl amid the shuffling legs and feet.
“Uh-oh,” Carl yelled out loud but to no avail as the policemen were busy trying to keep men and women back from their prisoners.
Suddenly a surge from the crowd pushed the knife-wielding man away and Jack felt himself being lifted from the ground. As he was roughly turned around he saw the smiling face of the man from the front door. He tilted his head as he raised something to chest level. Jack tried to pull away but knew the knife would be faster than him. While police bullhorns shouted orders in German and somewhere in the distance loud popping sounds started sounding that Collins recognized as tear gas canisters exploding, the skinhead thrust forward with the knife.
Just as Jack thought he was about to feel cold steel penetrate his stomach, the man’s face writhed and he was yanked backward by someone’s arm. Jack took the opportunity to twist free and kick out with his foot, catching the German in the stomach just as he was pulled over backward by the person who had grabbed him. Jack assumed that this was a policeman, but he wasn’t about to wait around to confirm it. He turned and tried to find Everett, but the tear gas had started to roll into the crowded and dangerous street.
“Jack, help him!” a voice yelled out, rising above the pandemonium.
Collins turned back around, not seeing who was yelling at him, but he did see the struggle on the ground as the skinhead thrashed away at the man holding him on the ground. The German’s body covered Jack’s savior so he couldn’t see who it was, then the shout from the crowd came again.
“Jack, help him!”
Instead of finding Everett and running, Collins did what he did best. He again raised his foot and brought it down into the Nazi’s face, sending him into oblivion and stopping his struggles with the policeman holding him. Jack turned and started looking for Everett again.
“Colonel!” came a voice from the crowd.
“Jack, get the doc!”
Collins turned back and saw the Nazi’s body being pushed away. A familiar face looked up as four sets of legs came into view and stepped all over his savior. Then he recognized the crazed hair of Doc Ellenshaw. Jack figured there couldn’t be another hairdo like that in the entire world. The frizzy white hair was all over the place and Jack almost panicked when he saw that Ellenshaw was about to be trampled underfoot by the now crazed crowd. He leaned over the prone cryptozoologist.
“Grab my neck, Doc!” he shouted.
Ellenshaw threw his arms around Collins. Jack pulled up and back. His hands were still restrained by the handcuffs, so he had to use another means of rescuing the man who had just rescued him. Soon there was another set of hands pulling on Jack from behind as both men straightened.
“May I suggest we make an exit from this place?”
A totally confused Collins turned and saw the familiar thick glasses of Pete Golding. Jack shook his head and then nodded toward the street.
“That way,” he shouted.
The four men started running as fast as the crowd would let them. All around them men and women were shouting, coughing, throwing stones and bottles-one of which clipped Ellenshaw as he held on to Jack’s belt.
“The alley!” Collins yelled again, spotting a somewhat safe haven for the moment.
As they pushed and head-butted their way across the street, their bodies seemed to start flying. All motion and sound came to a stop. Jack was pushed from behind by a superheated wave of pressure as the five claymore mines detonated from their hiding places on five separate street lamps lining the street. Ball-bearing-sized pieces of steel exploded into the now panicked crowd of protesters, slicing into skin, muscle, and bone. Jack, Ellenshaw, Everett, and Golding were shoved into the alley and they all fell as one on top of one another. As they hit the cobbled alley floor, the sound and the smell hit them all at the same time. Collins rolled to his back and looked up just in time to see a horrible sight. A cloud of red mist settled into the alley, assisted by the rush of air. He knew by the smell and the sharp report of ricocheting pellets that the protesters had been hit by something similar to antipersonnel mines.
“Oh God, oh God,” Golding was saying, as he came upright and felt for the pulse of a woman who came to rest across his legs. “What happened? What do we do? Oh God, oh God-”
Everett shoved his body into Pete’s. “Get these cuffs off me,” he shouted, his ears ringing harder than he had ever experienced before. Carl was shaking his head as he saw the death in the street.
“Son of a bitch,” he said, still unable to hear his own voice. “Jack,” Everett shouted, “Jack!”
Ellenshaw was trying desperately to get Jack’s handcuffs off with a small jeweler’s screwdriver, but he was shaking so badly he couldn’t.
“Doc, take your time. Calm down. We need to get out there and help some of these people. Now take a breath.”
Ellenshaw did as he was ordered and he finally inserted the small screwdriver into the cuffs. In order to help calm Ellenshaw, Jack half turned and tried to get the professor’s mind off the horrible situation all around them.
“What possessed you two to come looking for us?” he asked while trying to see what the doc was doing.
“It was my idea. I’m sorry, Colonel,” Ellenshaw said as tears started running down under his wire-rimmed glasses. He used his free hand to swipe at the tears. “I just thought… thought-”
“Hey, hey,” Jack said, shouting above the noise of people dying around them. “You did real good, Doc, you saved our asses out there.” He turned to see a shocked and battered Pete Golding sitting and leaning against the wall of the alley. Everett was trying to calm the computer specialist.
“That’s for sure. You can come with us anytime, Pete. You see how much trouble me and Jack always get into?”
Pete didn’t respond. He was looking at the dead woman lying in front of him. Everett could see that he was in shock. He looked up at Jack just as the colonel’s hands were released from the cuffs. From the street the initial sounds of terror, fear, and pain started collecting into a wail of anguish that was close to driving both scientists mad.
“Jack, get me out of these and let’s lend a hand.”
As Jack surveyed the situation before him, for the first time in his life he felt truly helpless as the scene of devastation confronted him.
“What is it?” Everett asked, finally gaining his feet. There was blood coursing down from his left ear.
“This was an ambush,” Collins said.
