with both hands, laying himself wide open for the first time.
In that single frozen moment of time, Jon lunged - striking with the point of his combat knife. Only the very tip of the blade plunged into the middle of the big man's remaining green eye. But that was enough. Blood and fluid poured out of the new and terrible wound.
Blinded, the auburn-haired giant roared in mingled fury and agony. He lashed out violently, knocking the knife from Smith's hand. He stumbled forward with his arms spread wide in one last bid to trap his unseen opponent and crush him.
Moving fast, Jon ducked under those massive outstretched arms and punched the bigger man hard in the throat - crushing his larynx. Immediately Jon jumped back again, determined to stay safely out of reach.
Gasping, panting, straining frantically for the oxygen he desperately needed but could no longer draw in, the giant slid slowly to his knees. Beneath the dripping blood, his skin was turning blue. Despairingly he reached out one last time - still trying to seize the man who had killed him. Then his arm dropped. He slumped to the floor and rolled over onto his back, lying there with his empty eye sockets staring blindly up at the ceiling.
Exhausted, Smith fell to his own knees.
From somewhere down below a new fusillade of gunfire thundered suddenly, echoing noisily up the central staircase. Smith staggered upright, scooped up his pistol from the floor where it had fallen, and ran toward the head of the stairs.
He saw Peter trudging slowly up the staircase, limping painfully. "Took a damned long, hard spill, Jon," the other man explained, seeing his concerned face. "Managed to hang on to my Browning, though." He smiled thinly. "That was just as well. You see, I tumbled right into two more of those fellows coming up the other way."
"I guess the}- won't be bothering us any longer?" Smith suggested.
"Not in this life, at least," Peter agreed drily.
"Jon! Peter! Come here! Quick!"
Both men turned at the sound of Randi's voice, urgently summoning them. They ran back into the room.
The CIA officer was kneeling beside one of the bodies. She looked up at them in amazement. "This guy is still alive!"
Chapter Forty-Three
With Peter right on his heels, Smith hurried to Ranch's side and knelt down to examine the lone survivor. It was the younger man he had seen through the window, the one who had been listening to signals sent over a satellite communications relay. He had been shot twice, once in the shoulder and once in the chest.
"See what you can do for the poor fellow," Peter suggested. "Find out what he knows. Meanwhile I'll take a quick prowl around to see what else I can uncover in this shambles."
Peter moved off to begin a systematic search of the bodies and any equipment and electronics that might be left undamaged in the bullet-riddled room. Meanwhile, Smith stripped off one of his gloves and felt for a pulse in the wounded man's neck. The pulse was still there, but it was very weak, fast, and fading. The young man's skin was also pale and cold and wet to the touch. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing in shallow, labored gasps.
Smith glanced at Randi. "Elevate his feet a few inches," he said quietly. "He's pretty deep in shock."
She nodded and lifted the injured man's feet slightly. To hold them in place, she grabbed a thick computer manual from the nearest table and slid it carefully under his calves.
Working swiftly, with gentle fingers, Smith carefully probed the young man's wounds, pulling away clothing to get a good look at the various bullet entry and exit points. He frowned. The shattered left shoulder was bad enough. Most surgeons would urge the immediate amputation of that arm. The other injury was far worse. His face darkened as he traced the extent of the massive exit wound high up on the young man's back. Moving at the speed of sound, the 9mm round had inflicted enormous damage as it tore through his chest - shattering bone, shredding blood vessels, and pulverizing vital tissue across an ever-wider area.
Jon did what little he could. First, he shook out a field dressing kit from one of the pouches on his assault vest. Among other things, it contained two rolled-up sheets of plastic in a sealed bag. He tore the bag open with his teeth, unrolled the pieces of plastic, and then firmly pressed them into place over