Under Fire

14

Jack felt his gorge rise into his throat. He suppressed it. “No, it’s not him,” he told Ervaz.

“I don’t believe you.”

Behind Ervaz, one of the men took a half-step to the right. He was clearing himself for a clean shot-line.

Jack half raised the nine-millimeter in his direction. “Don’t.”

Ervaz said, “Who are you? What’s your name?”

Jack didn’t reply.

“Tell me where Seth is.”

The man behind Ervaz took another sidestep.

“One more step and I’ll drop you!” Jack barked.

Ervaz repeated calmly, “Where is Seth?”

Jack heard the roar of a car engine somewhere to his right. He resisted the impulse to look and kept his focus on Ervaz and his men. To Ysabel, he asked, “Where is it?”

“Coming down the driveway. Fast, one SUV, headlights off. What should we do?”

Jack’s phone buzzed again. He glanced at the screen: RUN!

In unison the men behind Ervaz reached into their coats.

Jack shouted, “Ysabel, get to the house!”

Jack turned slightly right, double-tapped the man behind Ervaz, then adjusted aim, fired a third round at the fleeing Ervaz, then backstepped behind the barrels and crouched. A trio of bullets slammed into the steel lip. Jack felt a sting in his eye. To his right, a pair of headlights came on, pinning him. He glanced that way, saw the SUV’s grille twenty feet away and closing fast.

Jack turned on his heel, coiled his legs under him, and sprinted toward the farmhouse. Ysabel was almost through the door. He heard a crash of metal on metal, then a hollow gong as the steel drums scattered. Then three gunshots, followed by two more. Jack reached the door, ducked through, and turned right and pressed himself against the inside wall. He peeked around the jamb.

The SUV had come to a stop, half hidden in a cloud of dust. From the barn came flashes of orange. Jack saw the driver’s door open; then, a moment later, came the chattering of an assault rifle. The gun’s muzzle flare lit up the front of the SUV. From the passenger side, another rifle opened up, the bullets peppering the front of the barn.

The rifles went silent. A voice shouted, “I’ve got two down, two down!”

“Check them!” came the reply.

From the SUV’s passenger side, a figure crossed in front of the headlights and disappeared into the barn. After a moment came a lone gunshot, then a second one. The man emerged from the barn.

“They’re done,” he called.

“Strip them,” the man at the driver’s door replied, then shouted, “Jack! You there?”

It was Seth.

“I’m here!” he called back, then whispered to Ysabel, “Stay put. Same deal: If there’s shooting, run for the car.”

“But Jack, that’s him. I recognize the voice.”

“Just do what I say. I’m coming out, Seth.”

With the nine-millimeter hanging at his side, Jack stepped out the front door.

Seth called, “Nice to see you alive, Jack.” He turned around, opened the SUV’s rear door, and dropped the assault rifle inside. Jack stuffed the nine-millimeter into his jacket pocket and walked over.

Seth walked up, embraced him briefly, then said, “Sorry about all that. Wow, what a rush, huh?”

“Christ, man, you almost ran me over.”

“Better than a sharp SUV in the eye, though.”

Despite himself, Jack laughed.

“Hey, you look like hell; looks like you’ve already been run over once. And your eyebrow’s bleeding.”

Jack touched the spot with his index finger and felt something hard just beneath the skin. “Splinter from one of the barrels, I think. By the way, Ysabel’s here.”

“Thank God. I hoped you’d find her, but I wasn’t sure. Listen, we gotta get out of here. The gendarmerie out here is on the ball.”

Seth’s partner came out of the barn and walked over, his assault rifle cradled diagonally across his body.

Seth said, “Jack, I think you’ve met Matt Spellman.”

“Good to see you again, Jack.”