Code of Honor

Chapter Thirty-eight

The woman in charge of the militiamen who’d come to pick up the guns wouldn’t talk, even when Ramsey threatened to put a bullet between her eyes. Her second in command wasn’t as brave, though. After staring down the gun barrel for a scant three seconds, he spilled his guts. Loren, sitting in the back of the truck with her Glock pointed at the woman in fatigues while Armeo followed the guy’s directions, estimated they were within ten minutes of reaching FALA’s encampment. No one had tried to stop them, and she doubted the militia had posted lookouts on this narrow fire trail in the middle of the night when they had no reason to expect a threat from the outside. She leaned close to the woman, pressing her gun against the woman’s chest over her heart. She spoke quietly so the roar of the motor and churning of the tires on the uneven ground would cover her words. “I’ve got a cell phone in my pocket. You’ve got about five minutes to make a deal with me. Tell me where the captives are, and you can make a phone call to warn your people that a fight is coming unless they stand down and meet us unarmed and ready to talk peace.”

The woman slowly turned her head and stared at Loren. Even in the dark interior of the truck, with only the dashboard lights filtering into the back for illumination, her eyes glowed as if on fire. She didn’t blink. Not a muscle in her face moved. She wasn’t wearing insignia of any kind, but Loren recognized her type—die-hard officer. Ooh-rah. “They’re going to kill you all the second you step out of these trucks.”

“You and your troops will be in the line of fire too.”

She glanced at the traitor in the front seat as if she wanted to shoot him herself. “Wages of war.”

Loren shook her head. “Are the two of them really worth it?”

She smiled thinly. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Look, it’s going to be a bloodbath. Why risk it? All I want is the FBI agent. I don’t care what you do with the other one.”

The woman laughed. “If you’re after one, you’re after both. And when the first shot is fired, they’ll both be dead.”

Loren tamped down her rage. She was so close, but this icy soldier was right. Once all hell broke loose, she’d have a minute, tops, to figure out where Sky and Roberts were being held. As soon as the bullets started flying and blood started flowing, there was no telling who might panic and shoot them or who might give the order to eliminate witnesses. If she was right there and still couldn’t save Sky, she wasn’t sure she wanted to walk away.

*

The red phone on Lucinda’s desk rang and she picked it up before the first ring had died away. “Yes?”

“We have targets in sight. Recommend we eliminate the weapons arsenal first.”

“Are you able to locate the hostages?”

“Tentatively. The computers are working on imaging now.” A brief interval of static muffled his words, and then he said clearly, “Two vehicles approaching the compound transporting armed forces, twenty-eight in all.”

The bikers Loren had spoken of. Fighting was going to break out any moment. Cam and Dunbar would need all the diversion they could create if they were to escape. “Proceed with attack plan alpha.”

“Roger that. Weapons arsenal and unmanned targets priority one.”

“Thank you. I’ll expect an update shortly.”

“Roger and out.”

She gently set the phone back in the cradle, musing with half a mind as to who had decided red was the appropriate color for a device used to order the destruction of life, while she debated calling Andrew. Decided his guilt and helplessness were a burden he didn’t need. She felt no guilt, only anger she couldn’t do more.

*

An explosion rocked the building, and Cam jerked upright on the bed.

“What’s that?” Dunbar asked, her voice surprisingly strong. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and gripped the mattress on either side as if trying to steady herself. “Damn. Dizzy.”

“That’s incoming artillery,” Cam said. A second later, another closer explosion set off a series of earth-shaking tremors that rattled the doors and windows. A long cascade of secondary explosions boomed like cannon fire. Cam jumped up. “That was a weapons depot. We need to be ready to move. The camp is under assault.”

Dunbar stood, took a step, and swayed unsteadily. Cam put an arm around her, pulled her over to the door, and stationed her with her back against the wall. “They’ll be coming for us in a second. Let me handle it.”

The door slammed open and a man in camo rushed in, sweeping his rifle in the direction of the beds as if expecting to see the two of them armed and taking aim at him. Cam hooked her arm around his neck, jerked him back against her chest, and twisted. He slumped, a deadweight in her arms, and she lowered him to the floor. Crouching, she yanked his rifle free and cradled it in one hand while reaching for his sidearm. A scuffle and a muffled grunt behind her got her attention, and she spun upright. Dunbar grappled with another soldier, both hands wrapped around the soldier’s gun hand. The automatic was buried somewhere between them. Cam rammed the butt of the confiscated rifle into the back of the soldier’s head, and he fell next to the first one on the floor. Dunbar sagged against the wall, panting hard.

“You okay?” Cam asked.

“Yeah,” Dunbar gasped. “Who is it, do you think?”

“Hopefully the good guys. Either way, it’s the best chance we’ll have. You ready?”

“Hell, yes.”

“Here.” Cam passed her the rifle, grabbed the rifle from the second soldier, and shoved both handguns into the waistband of her trousers. “Can you handle the rifle?”

“In my sleep.”

“Then let’s get out of here. Stay low and close to me. We’ll try working our way around the building and into the woods.”

They made it as far as the porch before small-arms fire burst out across the compound. Wood fragments showered from the railing in front of them and peppered the air behind them. Cam grabbed Dunbar and dragged her onto the floor, covering as much of Dunbar’s body as she could. Bullets pinged off the metal roof and ripped splinters a foot long from the building, hurling the spears of wood like deadly javelins. Something tore through Cam’s calf and she grunted in surprise.

“You hit?” Dunbar asked, her face muffled against Cam’s chest.

“No. You?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Can you crawl?”

“Point me.”

“Straight ahead and over the side of the porch. We have to get away from the building before it gets hit with something bigger than bullets.”

*

The gunfire started before the trucks had even stopped. The windshield shattered, showering the men in the front seat and Loren and her prisoner with shards of glass. The side of her face stung, and blood ran down her neck. The men in the front shouted in pain, and the truck veered wildly, finally caroming into something, probably the side of a building. The impact knocked Loren to the floor. She held on to her weapon, but her prisoner launched herself out the back. By the time Loren got to her feet and jumped down to the ground, the camp was consumed by gunfire. People ran everywhere, shouting and shooting. Several buildings were ablaze.

Disoriented, uncertain of where to go, Loren advanced cautiously, keeping to the shelter of the trucks while trying to assess where the captives might be held. A whining sound she recognized split the air above her, and she threw herself to the ground. A missile hit a nearby truck, and it exploded in a fireball. The stench of burning rubber and diesel fuel coated her throat and stung her eyes. Rubbing tears from her face, blinking into the red-orange light cast by the soaring flames, she made out a figure running toward a low, narrow building across the compound. Loren lurched to her feet and raced after her.