The Iranian’s face relaxed, as did his grip on Tess. He took a step back and away from her, and as he did, his hand dove quietly into his rucksack.
The rucksack dropped to the ground by his feet as his hand came back up. It had a gun in its grip.
“Say hi to the virgins for me,” he yelled out as his finger pulled the trigger.
Chapter 43
Because of her?
Because of her damn phone call?
She couldn’t let it happen.
With a ferocious, primal yell, she launched herself at her captor with the unbridled fury of a caged predator. Regardless of the consequences. Regardless of whether or not she was going to get blown apart. If she was going to die, if he was going to hit that button, she was damn well going to take him with her.
She took him by complete surprise.
She hit him hard, slamming into him from his left, the sideways tackle pushing him off his feet and swinging his gun hand wide just as he squeezed the trigger. She didn’t see where the round went, didn’t have time to see if Reilly was still standing, but her gut told her she’d got there in time and that Reilly had to be okay. What she did see was the Iranian’s left hand—the one with the phone. She saw it come up in a defensive reflex just as she rammed him, saw it rising to block her, saw its grasp loosen, saw the phone fly out of it and fall to the ground—and in that millisecond, she felt her breathing cut out, felt the whole world freeze, expecting the explosion, expecting to feel her insides ripped out—but it didn’t happen. She didn’t explode. She was still there, in one piece, still there to feel the full brunt of the Iranian’s elbow that flew up and smashed into the back of her jaw as they both fell to the ground.
REILLY’S HEART BLEW A GASKET as he saw Tess make her move.
It took over, overriding his brain, cutting off any attempt at thought and spurring his legs to just take off.
Which he did—fast, like a sprinter going for gold. Or steel, in this case. The hard, tempered steel of the automatic, ten yards to his right.
He’d seen the phone fly out of the bomber’s hand, seen Tess tumble to the ground with him. He didn’t have enough time to get to them and intervene. The Iranian would very quickly have the upper hand again. Reilly had to get to his gun, fast, and hope his aim would prove as true as it had been on his best ever day at the firing range. Or better. He’d get one shot, if that. It had to count.
His legs at full gallop, he flicked a quick glance sideways, but couldn’t see more than the tangle of both bodies. He flung his eyes back at the ground ahead, at the gun.
Five yards.
Three.
One.
He was there.
TESS FELT HER BRAIN RATTLE under the impact of the Iranian’s elbow, but she stayed on him, both hands clamped tight against his gun wrist like the jaws of a rabid wolf.
She had to keep the weapon at bay, just a second or two longer, knowing Reilly had to be on the move, hoping he’d soon be with her, but she only managed to keep the Iranian’s gun hand pinned to the ground for a couple of heartbeats before his left hand flew up to her face and shoved her head back. She fell backward, but didn’t let go, even as his gun hand rose off the ground and swung toward her.
Instead of recoiling backward, she surprised herself by doing the opposite. She lunged forward and pulled his hand closer to her before biting down into it as hard as she could. She heard the Iranian grunt-curse as her teeth sank into him, and she felt tendons and cartilage snapping under her bite. In the frenzy of the moment, she saw his fingers loosen around the weapon’s grip, and her bite went into overdrive. The Iranian shouted angrily and reared up, lifting her up with him as he flung his arm to shake her off. She twisted on herself, felt her neck bending out of shape, but stayed on him, her teeth still digging in—then the gun flew out of his grip.
He lashed out with his other hand again, his fingers digging into her cheeks, looking for her eyes. The pain was too intense—she had to let go. The release unleashed him, and he pushed her off with a hard shove to her chest. She scurried backward, out of his reach, her eyes darting left and right, searching for the gun.
As were his.
Both found it at the same time, a few feet behind him. She met his eyes for a nanosecond, the raw anger blazing out of them more terrifying than the gun itself.
Then he moved, diving for the gun.
REILLY SNATCHED THE GUN off the ground and swung his arms around and up, into position, in a two-fisted stance, ready to take the shot, his eyes taking an instant read of the situation.
The first thing that registered was that the Iranian and Tess were a few feet apart and she was clear of him, which was good. Less good was that the Iranian had the gun in his hand—and was aiming it right at him.
Reilly squeezed off a round and dove to his left just as a volley of bullets whizzed by, so close that he actually heard them cutting the air mere inches from his cheek. He rolled on the ground, heading toward the nearest cone house, pulling the trigger every time he was lying on his front, but he knew full well that he wasn’t likely to hit him like that, especially given that the Iranian was also low on the ground and made for a small target. He just had to keep him pinned down long enough to give Tess a chance to make a break for it.
Which, he now saw, she was doing.
THE BULLETS THUNDERED THROUGH TESS’S EARSand froze her in place—then she snapped back and got moving.
She saw Abdulkerim waving to her from behind a cone house and started for him before almost tripping over something: the Iranian’s rucksack. She scooped it up by the handle without slowing down and sprinted across to join the Byzantinist.
The man was buzzing with panic. “The phone, that’s the trigger to … ?” He couldn’t even say the word.
“Yes,” she fired back, flinching with each gunshot that echoed through the valley.
“Where is it?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, still breathless. “He dropped it.”
“Come,” he told her. “Follow me.”
He led her through the maze of tightly packed cone houses.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“In there,” he said as he stopped by the doorway of a nondescript dwelling. He pointed inside it. “There’s an underground city. Under this village. It’s been shut down for years because of the rock slides, but some of it must still be accessible. You need to go down there quickly, you’ll be safe in there. There’s probably no phone signal, right?”
Tess nodded. He was right. “Okay, but—you’re coming with me, aren’t you? It’s safer for you too.”
“No, I—” He hesitated, his eyes twitching left and right. “I’ll go get help.”
“Listen to me,” she insisted, grabbing him by the shoulders, “you’ll be safer in there.”
He looked at her, his forehead bathed with sweat, then shook his head and said, “I can’t. I’ll get help. You
