The graying, tall man Rourke recognized from news footage as Samuel Chambers was staring at Natalie, then turned, looked at Rourke and said, 'You the Marines?'
'No, Mr. President,' Rourke said, letting out a long sigh. 'Just a talented amateur. Are you all right?'
'I am for now.'
Rourke turned back into the hallway, snatching up the two AK-47s from the fallen guards and passing one in to Chambers, then giving the second gun, plus the spare AK he already carried, to Natalie. She slung one across her back, checking the magazine on the one in her hands. Rourke looked at her, saying, 'I'm sorry—I tried not to have to do that.'
'I know,' she said quietly. 'Come on—we have to get Paul.'
'Who's this Paul?' Chambers asked.
Rourke started to answer, but the girl cut him off, saying, 'Never mind, Mr.
President—once you meet Paul you'll love him.'
Rourke just looked at her, saying, 'You and the president get Paul—unless you think you'll need me. I've gotta stop Vladmir—more than ever now since the shooting started. Where's that elevator?'
'At the end of the corridor along here,' she said, 'then make a hard right and take it all the way to the end. You'll start seeing the aircraft maintenance area before you get there—but hurry. Every guard will be turned out.'
Rourke stepped back into the hall, snatching two spare magazines from one of the fallen guards, then starting back along the hall toward the far end where Karamatsov's office was. When he was only halfway along the corridor's length, he could hear a siren starting. Three uniformed Russian soldiers suddenly appeared from a doorway, one of them carrying his AK-47 in his right hand, the others with their weapons slung across their backs. Rourke opened up with the AK-47 in his hands, catching the first guard before he even looked up, then firing short bursts into the other two as they made for their weapons.
Rourke continued down the hallway, reached Karamatsov's door and stepped back from it, firing a three- round burst into the lock and ducking aside as the door swung open. There was a burst of automatic weapons fire from inside the office.
Rourke flattened himself along the wall, shouting, 'I don't want to kill you, Karamatsov, unless I have to —listen to me.'
There was another burst. Rourke stared back down the hallway. In minutes or less, he realized, the halls would be swarming with Soviet soldiers, and all would be lost. Rourke dumped the nearly spent magazine from the AK-47 and slapped in a fresh one, then, extending his right arm on line with the open door into Karamatsov's office, he fired, angling the muzzle up and down, right and left, in short bursts. Then Rourke dove through the doorway, rolling across the carpet. Karamatsov was up, firing from behind the desk, and Rourke loosed a burst just above the desk, as Karamatsov ducked down.
Rourke was on his feet, running, then he jumped across the desk as Karamatsov raised himself to fire. Rourke's hands reached for the KGB major's throat, his right knee smashing upward into Karamatsov's groin, both men falling to the floor behind the desk. Rourke had a plan now, and his promise to Natalie aside, he couldn't kill Karamatsov—the Russian was the only ticket down the corridor and to the aircraft elevator with Chambers, Rubenstein and the girl.
Karamatsov wrestled Rourke's hands away from his throat, a small revolver appearing in his right hand. Rourke wheeled, smashing the knife edge of his left hand into the inside of Karamatsov's right wrist, punching the gun out of line with his own body and onto the floor. Rourke crossed his body with his right fist, lacing against Karamatsov's jaw, knocking the Russian back against the wall, then diving to the floor for the revolver. Automatically, as his right hand reached for the gun, Rourke started to roll, a desk chair crashing down onto the floor where his head had been a second earlier. The revolver was in Rourke's right fist now and he extended his arm, his thumb cocking the hammer as his arm straightened, the muzzle of the little blue Chief's Special .38 on line with Karamatsov's face. The Russian froze.
'You so much as blink, you're a dead man,' Rourke said, his voice barely audible. He got to his feet and moved toward the Russian, spinning him around against the wall, doing a fast light frisk, keeping the muzzle of the little revolver against Karamatsov's right temple. Rourke glanced over his shoulder.
There were four Russian soldiers crowding the doorway. Rourke shouted, 'Move and Karamatsov gets it,' in Russian, then saying, 'I mean it!'
Rourke punched the muzzle of the revolver against Karamatsov's temple, rasping in English, 'Tell them— now!'
In Russian, the voice edged and trembling with rage, Karamatsov commanded, 'Do as this man tells you—that is my order.'
'Wonderful,' Rourke whispered to Karamatsov. 'Now—tell them to get out of here and clear the corridor. In about two minutes you and I are walking out of here and the first man I see with a gun means you're a dead man—got me?'
Karamatsov said nothing, then Rourke pushed the muzzle of the revolver harder against the KGB man's head, repeating, 'Got me?'
'Yes—yes—I understand.' Then, in Russian, Karamatsov repeated Rourke's instructions. One of the soldiers started to say something and Rourke increased the pressure of the little Smith & Wesson's muzzle against Karamatsov's temple, and Karamatsov shouted something Rourke didn't quite understand, but the soldier fell silent and all four men left.
'You're being real good, Vladmir—I'm proud of you,' Rourke said softly, the gun still at the Russian's head. 'Now—where are my guns—be quick about it!'
'In the closet,' Karamatsov said.
'Fine, let's go get them.' Rourke walked Karamatsov toward the closet, never moving the revolver's muzzle from the man's head. Karamatsov opened the closet and Rourke had him reach down the twin .45s, the Python and the two-inch Lawman from the closet shelf, then had him take the CAR-15 and the Steyr from the corner of the closet. 'Where's the bag with the magazines and ammo?'
