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I crouched near the rear exit, my pulse pounding in my ears. The door was open, and the arriving cars headlights illuminated the back wall of the compound. Sweat poured down my back in the brutal night heat. Gravel crunched as the cars pulled to a stop, and doors opened. Someone began to sing, drunken and off key. Adar must have been planning a party, and the guests had just arrived.
Not wanting to find out what kind of people a terrorist invited to a torture party, I tried to think of a way out. Something. Anything. If I made it to the back wall, I would surely be spotted before I could scale it. I could try to Rambo my way out, but from the noises coming from the yard there were several bad guys.
“Carl, how many we got?”
“Couldn’t tell. It was too dark when they pulled in. Want me to try a diversion?”
“Hold on that. I’ve got an idea.” I moved quickly back into the home. The door bell rang, long and raspy, and someone on the other side laughed. I had seen the fuse box near the vault. The bell continued, the user obviously becoming frustrated. I pulled my pack off, removed my night vision monocular and strapped it onto my head. In another pocket was a small explosive charge. I squished it into the box, and placed a detonator into the clay.
The ringing quit, and loud knocking started. The laughter was gone, and now voices called out with some concern. The radio initiator blinked green in my hand, we had contact. The charge would only kill the lights in this house, but hopefully this would be enough of an edge. I moved back towards the side entrance.
Now they were pounding on the front door. I pulled a frag from one of the MOLLE pouches on my armor, and staying low so as to not blot out the light coming through the key hole, slid up to the door. I pulled the pin, but carefully kept the spoon down until it was wedged tightly against the door’s base plate. The grenade had a five second fuse, and it would be one heck of a surprise for our party guests. It’s those little touches that show you care.
Back towards the side door now. The pounding turned to kicking. I kept moving, wanting to get some space between me and that frag. The side door was in view, the rear wall of the compound visible through the portal, still illuminated in the headlights. A shadow moved on the back porch, a man with a gun. They were coming. I flipped down the monocular, and the view for one eye turned a pixilated green.
“Adar!” one of the men on the back porch shouted. The front door cracked and splintered on its hinges.
“Hide and seek time.” I took a deep breath and mashed the detonator.
There was a muted thump as the house plunged into darkness. My world was now a super illuminated green. I raised the M4 to my shoulder, realized that I had not switched the EoTech to night vision mode as the optic appeared blindingly fuzzy, cursed under my breath, pushed the button to turn it down, and moved my hand back to the grip. Behind me the front door crashed open.
Five.
A man in a suit and headdress moved through the rear entrance into my sight, blinking stupidly, Makarov held before him like a talisman to ward off evil.
Four.
I flipped the selector to semi, and pulled the trigger twice, the dot of the EoTech barely moving as it bounced across his torso. The OpsInc can was deadly silent, but the bullet still made a very audible CHUFF CHUFF noise.
Three.
I moved forward, side stepping, gun still at the ready, slicing the pie, more of the back porch swinging into view. The first man was still falling. A second man was behind him, looking surprised in my pixilated world, lifting his Tokerov sideways, gangster style. The holographic reticle covered his face. CHUFF.
Two.
There was movement behind me, the rest of Adar’s guests piling into the entry way, surprised by the darkness, a few random gun shots rang out as they attacked the shadows.
One.
The concussion of the grenade was sharp inside the structure. Even with a few walls between us I could feel the impact in my eyeballs. Gliding over the bodies of the men that I had just shot, I took the corner slowly, watching for movement.
Two figures, highlighted against the lights, standing in front of the fancy fountain. Easy targets. The M4 met my shoulder, but I stopped. Only one of the targets was a man, the other was female. The man had a subgun in one hand, and a rope leading to the bound wrists of the women. He was staring, slack jawed, at the smoking front door of Adar’s home and his moaning and screaming companions.
Having seen that poor girl up stairs, I just reacted. I flipped the selector to full auto. The man never knew what hit him as I stitched him from groin to neck in one burst. He stumbled back, falling into the fountain with a crimson splash, jerking the rope, and sending the girl sprawling. I dropped the mag and reloaded as I scanned for threats, trying to break the tunnel vision. Clear.
Instead of heading for the back wall, I sprinted towards the captive. She appeared to be in a state of shock, probably a young Phillipina. I’m a killer, and a thief, and a con-man, and a hired gun, but I was not a monster, and in Qatar, girls like this were treated like slaves or worse.
“Come with me,” I said in Arabic, helping the girl to her feet, then quickly switching to Tagalog, “Come with me now, these men will kill you.” She looked at me, stunned or bewildered.
“Lorenzo, what’s happening?” Carl’s voice was tense.
“Pick me up at the front gate.” I replied tersely. “We need to go, lady.” I gestured with my gun in the direction to move. “Now!”
“You’re an American!” she shouted in English. “Oh, thank heavens!”
“Uh...” that was unexpected. “Yeah, I’m here to rescue you, or something...”
The van barely slowed as I shoved the still bound girl into the back and climbed in after her. I slammed the door as Adar’s compound shrank in the distance.
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To be continued.