jaw, tearing half his face off as the soft lead hollow point mushroomed into an ugly blossom of destruction. A split second later its twin dotted a neat hole directly between the guard’s eyes, and the deformed slug careened through his cerebrum like a willful pachinko ball, instantly terminating his life.
El Rey rose from his kneeling crouch and moved swiftly to the dead newcomer. What was left of his head was twisted at an unnatural angle on the hard-packed dirt, and after a quick once-over, the assassin decided that even with the blood splatter he would serve the immediate purpose.
A few seconds later, he had the night-vision goggles off and the man’s loose jacket on, the Beretta just fitting in one of the pockets. He laid the goggles to one side and then returned to the other corpse and relieved it of its black baseball cap, which thankfully didn’t have much blood on it, though it stank of sour sweat and grimy hair. He pulled on the hat and then fished in the dead man’s overcoat, stopping when he found a pack of Marlboros and a plastic butane lighter. He glanced over his shoulder at the two warehouse windows in the near distance, seeping dim amber light, and then straightened and walked to the building entrance.
The two seated interior guards registered the front door swinging open, and then a growling voice followed a cloud of cigarette smoke through it. They relaxed as they saw the familiar jacket of one of their crew, and never had time to register their oversight.
“Shit, it’s colder than hell out there–”
The Beretta popped through the jacket’s fabric, and the first guard took two rounds to the chest. His partner was swinging an assault rifle up as the next series of four shots stitched a frying-pan-sized pattern of bloody wounds in his upper abdomen. The rifle crashed to the concrete floor as the man tumbled back in the chair and dropped in a heap on the ground. El Rey approached the two prone forms, and seeing that the first gunman was still breathing, toed his weapon out of reach before confirming that the other one was dead.
“Where’s the girl?” he asked, and the man’s eyes flicked to the left. El Rey’s gaze followed his to the interior office door.
“Anyone in there?”
The man shook his head, then coughed blood, the chest wounds burbling as he struggled for breath.
The assassin covered the ground quickly and threw the door open before ducking around the jamb and sweeping the darkened room with his pistol. Light streamed through the doorway into the room, and he could just make out a figure seated in a chair in the far corner. There, biting against a rag that was stuffed in her mouth and held in place with silver tape, was Dinah.
He felt around for a light switch and was rewarded by an overhead bulb sputtering to life. Dinah looked dazed, and then her eyes widened in panic when she recognized him, his gun clenched in his hand, blood smeared across his coat.
“Relax. I’m here to get you out of here,” he soothed as he approached her and felt for the edge of the tape. “This is going to hurt, but don’t make a sound. Are you okay?”
She was nodding a yes when he ripped the tape off and she whined in pain, the adhesive leaving a red welt, tears welling in her eyes from the sting. He pulled the filthy rag out of her mouth and she coughed, then spit to the side. He slid the blade of the KA-BAR from the sheath and for a second the terror returned, and then he was talking again, softly, rhythmically, coaxing her to calm.
“This will only take a second. I need to cut the bindings. Can you walk?” he asked, then placed a hand on one arm as he bent down with the knife. “Hold still. I don’t want to cut you.”
“I...I can walk,” she whispered as he sawed through the rope, and then her hands were free and she was clenching and unclenching her fingers, trying to get circulation to return. He knelt and repeated the process with her ankles, the line falling away as he sliced, and then he stood and studied her. One side of her face was discolored by an angry bruise, and the eye on that side was swollen half shut.
“I’m getting you out of here, do you understand? Your captors are dead. Your husband is waiting outside. It’s over.