Shock Wave, page 32
Bridget pulled away. “Look. The road’s blocked by a couple of SUVs. Looks like an accident.”
* * *
“No,” Assali said. “We cannot defend the house. We will go on foot and find other vehicles. Ten men to the back door. Slow them down. The rest to the front. We escape that way. Now.”
Assali moved toward the front door. Waleed followed and barked orders for the men to cover their escape. He grabbed Faraz’s shirt and pushed him toward the back, where the men stood ready to fire at any ground force that appeared. “You stay with them,” he said.
Faraz threw him off. He took an AK from the floor and crouched down behind the half-wall between the dining room and the kitchen. Waleed and a phalanx of men led Assali out the front.
Gunfire came from the alley, and the men by the back door responded. Faraz turned his weapon toward them and sprayed left and right. As they fell, the Israeli commandos came into view. An explosion blew in the door. Faraz threw himself to the ground behind the half-wall, tossed the AK to the side and raised his hands in surrender.
* * *
On the front side of the house, Bridget and Will were pinned down behind the Israelis’ armored vehicle. Drucker and his men were thirty meters ahead, on the other side of an alley entrance on the left, taking cover behind the damaged SUVs. They were in a gun battle with a terrorist force.
Someone shouted, “Rimon!” The Israelis took cover and a grenade exploded. There was more shouting in Hebrew, and the Israelis withdrew to their vehicle, two of them dragging Drucker.
They dropped him in front of Bridget and turned to defend their position.
Will knelt down. “He’s alive. The armor saved him.”
“I’m all right,” Drucker said.
* * *
“Go now, sayyid.” Waleed pushed Assali across the street to the back of the SUV he’d been riding in a few minutes earlier. “Move quickly with the next explosion.” He tossed another grenade toward the Israeli vehicles.
With debris still flying, Waleed grabbed Assali’s arm and pulled him past the vehicles and into the side alley at a run. His men followed, turning to fire their AKs to keep the Israelis pinned down.
* * *
Without the lock, the plumber’s gate wouldn’t stay all the way down, giving Johnny a partial view out into the alley. He was behind the shop’s front counter, surrounded by an assortment of sinks, faucets and plumbing supplies.
He saw the feet go by. Then his hiding place went quiet. He eased his grip on the AK and reached into his pocket to be sure he had his Israeli-issued ID—something of a security blanket if he got arrested. Still, Johnny was reluctant to leave the safety of the shop, not knowing who he might find or whether the running battle would come back past his position.
* * *
The Israeli team in the alley streamed through the kitchen door.
Faraz raised his hands as high as he could. “I’m the American. I gave you the location. Killed those guys.” He gestured toward the dead terrorists in the kitchen.
Three Israelis pointed their weapons at him. “Don’t move,” one of them said.
More soldiers came in through the front door, with Bridget and Will behind them.
“That’s my man,” Bridget said, moving to Faraz and helping him up.
The soldiers lowered their weapons.
“Are you okay?” Bridget asked.
“Yes.”
“Where’s Assali?”
“Went out the front just before the explosions. I thought you had him.”
“Shit,” Will said. “Must have gotten past us.”
“Side alley,” Faraz said.
Drucker spoke from the front door. “We will pursue.” He issued a command and led his men back outside.
“My cousin is out there wounded. We’ve gotta find him.” Faraz grabbed an AK from a fallen fighter and pushed past Will. “You two coming?”
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
Faraz led Bridget and Will past the disabled SUVs and into the alley. He saw the partly open gate and pulled it up. “Johnny?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
The cousins hugged.
“This was your idea of hanging back?”
“I had to do it. How’s your arm?”
“Fine. Bleeding stopped.”
“Did they come by this way?” Bridget asked.
“Yeah. Then, looked like the Israelis were in pursuit.”
“We should go after them,” Faraz said.
Will shook his head. “We should wait here and call for reinforcements.”
“Smart man,” Johnny said.
Bridget stepped forward. “No. We can’t let them get away after what they did.”
“The Israelis will catch them,” Will said.
“Not necessarily.” Faraz turned to Johnny. “You know this village.”
“It’s a maze, as Faraz found out earlier. And there are lots of folks who will hide them and fight for them.”
“What would you do if you were with them?” Bridget asked.
“I’d divide my men, force the Israelis to do the same, trap them in any one of a hundred dead ends.”
“Then we really have to go, do what we can.”
Johnny let out a breath and turned away.
“You don’t have to,” Faraz said.
“No, but she’s right. I know a back way. Maybe we can get ahead of them, or at least catch up.”
“Show us,” Bridget said. “Please.”
* * *
Assali was out of breath and sweating. Two fighters helped him keep moving through alleys and streets.
“He can run no more,” one of the men said to Waleed, who was behind them with two other men, running sideways and keeping an eye out for the Zionists.
“We must . . . get out,” Assali said through labored breaths, as Waleed pushed past them to scout ahead.
“Here.” Waleed stopped short of the next intersection. He turned his AK and used the butt to break the doorknob of a house. He put his shoulder into the door and it gave way. Waleed led them into a darkened living room and slammed the door behind them.
Assali leaned on the back of an overstuffed sofa to catch his breath. “What is this pl—” His question was cut off when Waleed raised his left hand and pointed his AK toward the back of the house with his right.
A man appeared in a doorway. He was short and wore Western clothes and house slippers. And he had a rifle of his own. “What is this? Out of my house!”
Five rifles pointed back at him.
“Quiet,” Waleed ordered.
There were footsteps and shouts in Hebrew outside. Assali crouched down behind the sofa. All the weapons except Waleed’s turned toward the front door. The footsteps passed by.
Waleed waited a few seconds, then spoke to the homeowner. “We are fleeing the Zionists. We need shelter.”
The man lowered his weapon. If he had any second thoughts about helping the armed men, he didn’t show it. He stepped aside. “This way.”
Waleed went first and pushed the man ahead of him, his finger still on the trigger.
The men followed along a short hallway and their host ushered them into a bedroom. He addressed Assali. “Sayyid, my family is in the room across the hall. Please, you cannot stay long.”
“Yes, yes,” Assali said, his breathing returning to normal. He wiped his brow with his sleeve. “We need water.”
The man left. Assali turned to Waleed. “What now? We make a stand here?”
“No, sayyid. The Zionists will find us, use gas or drop a bomb on the house.
The man returned with bottles of water.
“We need a vehicle,” Waleed said.
“I have one. It is yours for the jihad, with pleasure.”
“Where?”
“It is in the lot at the edge of the village, a short walk from the back door.”
“Back door,” Assali said. “Perfect. Give us the keys.”
* * *
Bridget was struggling to keep up with the men. Her injury and her days in captivity were affecting her more than she had expected or wanted to admit.
Will was in the lead, in SEAL mode—minus the high-tech gear.
“Where the hell are the Israelis?” Faraz asked.
“Lots of ways through the village,” Johnny said. “It’s good that we’re covering a different route.”
Will stopped and raised his left hand, then lowered it to point at a doorway. The knob was broken off. Pieces of wood and metal were on the ground.
Johnny moved forward to listen at the door.
Bridget reached for her cell phone. “We should call—”
“Shh.” Will silenced her.
There was movement inside the house. Will pulled Bridget to the far side of the doorway, and put her behind him. A man said something in Arabic and another responded. The voices were muffled.
Bridget looked toward Johnny for a translation, but he pointed to his ear and shook his head.
There was more noise, people moving around maybe, but it sounded like it was farther inside the house. Will leaned forward. Somewhere in the house, a door closed.
“I think someone went out the back,” Johnny whispered. “Most of these houses go through to an alley. You heard the door close.”
“I need to get a message to Drucker,” Bridget said. Will nodded. “You have his number?”
“No. It’ll have to go through the Ops Center and Peretz.”
“That’ll take forever,” Faraz said.
Bridget was already dialing. “How do I tell them where we are?”
Johnny pointed to two street signs attached to the buildings at the intersection behind her. They were written in Arabic and English.
Bridget cupped her hand over her mouth and read the street names to the operator.
“We can’t wait for them,” Faraz said. “If Assali’s men went through here, who knows where they’ll end up. We could lose them.”
“Could be nothing,” Johnny said. “Just the family.”
“Missing doorknob,” Will said. “Not likely a coincidence.”
“Definitely not a coincidence.” Faraz kicked in the door and pulled back for cover. There was no response from inside.
Faraz raised his AK and went into the house. The owner came from the back hallway, firing. Faraz hit the floor and returned fire. The spray rattled across the kitchen cabinets and found the man in the doorway. He fell backward.
A woman screamed from a room behind. A child cried.
Faraz crossed the living room and stepped over the man. He passed the closed door to his left, the source of the noise. He checked the room to the right and found it empty, with discarded water bottles and ammunition clips on the bed.
He crossed the hall and kicked in the other bedroom door, triggering another round of wailing. Faraz pointed his weapon at the woman, who was huddled on the floor in the far corner with three young children.
“Quiet!” he ordered. He didn’t bother to think of the Arabic word, but his meaning was clear.
The woman stopped screaming. The children continued to cry.
“Stay here,” Faraz said. Then he moved back to the living room.
Will was standing guard. Johnny and Bridget were on their knees checking on the owner.
“They were here, but the house is clear now,” Faraz said. “Woman and kids in the bedroom”
“He’s dead,” Bridget sat back on her heels.
Faraz turned to Johnny. “Talk to the woman before she sees this. Find out if she knows where they went.”
Johnny went to the bedroom.
Bridget stood and stared at the man.
“We broke into his house,” Faraz said. “I did, actually.”
“He gave shelter to Assali’s crew,” Bridget said. “Covered their escape. You did what you had to do.”
“And he did, too, I guess.”
Johnny came out of the bedroom. “They went out the back with the family’s car keys to the lot at the edge of the village.”
“Let’s go,” Faraz said.
The woman came out of the bedroom and saw her husband. She screamed and fell on him, sobbing. The children came out to join her, but retreated when they saw Faraz and his AK.
The homeowner’s wife launched herself at Faraz. “Qatil!” she screamed. Murderer. She went for his face with her fingernails.
Faraz dodged the assault, grabbed the woman’s arm and forced her back to the ground. She collapsed on top of her husband. “We gotta go,” he said.
“Right.” Will moved past them and opened the back door. He scanned left and right, then stepped into the alley. “Clear. Let’s move.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
Assali sat on the gravel of the parking lot, leaning against a van, while two men stood guard and Waleed and the others searched for the car.
The homeowner had told them it was a gray Toyota. Unfortunately, that described half the cars in the lot. To make matters worse, it was an old one. There was no remote to click, only a key. So Waleed had to go from vehicle to vehicle trying the locks.
“He has it,” one of the guards said.
A car started some distance away. Assali took the guard’s hand and stood. He had stopped sweating. The air was a bit cooler. The last rays of sunlight dipped behind the Old City. “Yalla,” he ordered.
They carved a path through the parked cars to intercept the Toyota.
As they crossed an access lane, a windshield in front of them shattered, and a gunshot echoed across the valley.
The fighter behind Assali pushed him to the ground and returned fire.
* * *
“Damn,” Will said. “I missed him.”
“That’s Assali,” Faraz said. “We’ll take him. You two go after the car.”
Faraz didn’t wait for an answer or an argument. He grabbed Johnny’s forearm and pushed him through the cars toward Assali’s position.
* * *
“Cover me,” Assali ordered. He pushed the fighter off him and sat up. “I will go to the car.”
“Sayyid, you will not make it. Perhaps we should surr—”
“Never! Now, distract them.” He took a handgun from the man’s belt, hefted himself to his feet and ran toward Waleed and the Toyota.
The two fighters stood, taking as much cover as they could from the parked cars. They started shooting and ran the other way.
* * *
Faraz and Johnny returned fire.
“This way,” Johnny said, turning a corner around a small truck to move toward the shooters.
Faraz followed. They came around the truck firing, but Assali’s men caught them from an unexpected angle. Just before the bullet hit him, Faraz caught a glimpse of a bald man running.
* * *
Will reached the parking lot’s main road in time to see the gray Toyota emerge from a side lane. It skidded as it made the turn and accelerated toward him. Someone stuck an AK out of the passenger’s window. Will pushed Bridget out of the way and let loose a barrage from his M4.
The windshield shattered and a tire burst. The car continued toward him at high speed. He could see no one inside. Will was about to fire again when the vehicle veered left and sideswiped a row of parked cars before smashing into one of them and coming to a stop.
He moved toward it with Bridget close behind. “Stay down,” he said. He pushed her to the ground behind the bumper of an old Mercedes. As Will approached the passenger side of the car, the driver’s door flew open and Waleed came out, bloody and firing.
One bullet caught Will’s body armor and another hit his forearm. As he fell, he pushed himself left to catch some cover from the next vehicle in the row, but his legs were exposed.
There was another volley and Will pulled the legs in, sure it was too late. But he didn’t feel the burn of impact. He twisted his body to look around the car and saw Bridget advancing, in hunched-over combat position, her rifle firing on automatic.
She knelt down when she reached Will. “I think I got him.”
* * *
Johnny stood over Faraz, firing at the terrorists. “How bad?”
“It’s okay,” Faraz said. “Just a flesh wound, left arm.”
“Stay here.” Johnny took off at a run and disappeared among the cars.
Bullets from Assali’s men flew over Faraz and pinged off the cars. He ripped his shirtsleeve to make a bandage, then picked up his AK and moved on all fours to get a view of what was happening.
He raised himself to look over the hood of a blue Honda in time to see a fighter he recognized moving toward him. Faraz raised his rifle and cut him down.
Faraz dropped back to the ground. He heard running a few rows over. He looked around the car’s bumper. A fighter was chasing Johnny. Before Faraz could stand, Johnny stopped, turned and fired at the same time the fighter did. They both went down behind the cars.
“Johnny!” Faraz moved a few steps toward him but saw something off to his right. He looked that way.
Assali.
Faraz took off after him.
Assali turned and fired his pistol from twenty meters away. The bullet went wild. He leaned against a car, breathing hard.
“Drop it,” Faraz shouted, pointing his AK.
Assali fired again, then pushed himself off the car and made a hopeless attempt to evade Faraz, turning behind another row of cars.
Faraz made the same turn, now just a few car-lengths behind. “Stop, or I will shoot.”
Assali ran to a car and leaned on its hood, gasping for air. He turned to look at his pursuer. “Khayal. Iyad was right about you.”
“Yes, he was. Now drop your weapon.”
Assali raised his head and shoulders but kept his hands on the car for support. He took a deep breath and let it out. “Did you save me at the camp to kill me here?”
Faraz didn’t answer.
Assali mumbled a string of Arabic curses.
“Drop the weapon.”
Assali raised it instead.
Faraz fired.
The bullet hit Assali in the side and spun him around. He dropped the gun and fell to his hands and knees, bleeding.
Faraz kicked Assali’s pistol away and pointed his AK at the man’s head.
“No, Khayal, please.” Assali was whimpering now. “I can help you. Please.”
