Maslick tried to argue, but Rapp made it clear there was no time for debate. As Rapp began his retreat from the lobby he passed Reavers's body. He noted the Sig P226 pistol still in the man's thigh holster. Kneeling, Rapp grabbed the gun and the three spare magazines. The anger came boiling to the surface and Rapp said to himself, "I swear to God I'm going to kill these idiots who came up with this reintegration crap." The image of Sickles popped into Rapp's mind and it suddenly occurred to Rapp that Sickles had probably recruited the man who was now trying to kill him. Rapp popped in his earpiece and looked up Sickles's mobile number. He tapped the number and listened as began to ring. Rapp left the lobby and entered the hallway that bisected the building. Down at the far end Coleman was stacking and shoving equipment against a side exit.
Taking up position against the doorframe so he could cover the front entrance, Rapp began to wonder if the wall he was behind was thick enough to stop a .223 round. The answer was likely no, so as Darren Sickles' voice came on the line, Rapp walked back into the lobby. "Hey, dickhead," Rapp barked above the roar of gunfire, "did Mike tell you the shitstorm we're in?"
Rapp holstered his gun, stepped behind the reception desk, and began yanking up on the heavy Formica countertop.
"He just told me. I have no - "
"Shut up and listen to me." Rapp gave the top one more shove and it broke free. "This is your fault. You recruited these scumbags, and you were dumb enough to think you could trust them." Rapp grabbed the top and lugged it back into the hallway. "You are going to get on the fucking phone, and you are going to call every last one of them, and you are going to tell them that I'm going to place a million-dollar bounty on every one of their fucking heads, and I'm going to be the one collecting it."
Rapp tossed the heavy top up against the doorframe and leaned against it. He drew his weapon again, feeling a lot better about his position, but not so good about Sickles, who was yammering about how he didn't understand any of this. That it simply didn't make sense. With more important things to do than listen to Sickles' senseless speculation, Rapp yelled, "Darren, I don't give a shit what you think! Just get on the damn phone and make it clear to these assholes that I'm going to hunt them down and kill them." Rapp was tempted to tell Sickles that he was going to kill him as well, but it was likely to be an extremely counterproductive threat, so he bit his tongue and hung up.
Rapp knew what their next move would be, and it likely wouldn't take long. The U.S. had outfitted the Afghan Police with takedown gear that included battering rams, breaching shotguns, ribbon charges, and bulletproof riot shields. It was the bulletproof riot shields that worried Rapp the most. All a thoughtful commander needed to do was grab a couple of shields and do the old Roman tortoise. The first man in the line would hold the shield directly in front of him and the second man would hold the shield above them, protecting them from the men on the roof. They'd rush the front door with one or two lines of men. If that happened, Rapp knew they would overpower him and his little 9mm pistol in a matter of seconds. The thought of dying like that got Rapp thinking, and he yelled down the hall, "Scott?"
Coleman shoved a big metal exam table against his pile and turned to look at Rapp. "What?"
"You come across any oxygen tanks?"
"Yeah." Coleman didn't have to be told what to do. He ducked into one of the rooms and came out with two green tanks. He dragged them down the hall by the necks and dropped them at Rapp's feet.
Rapp kept his eyes and his pistol on the door and asked, "Any more?"
"Yeah."
"Put 'em in front of your pile down there and get your ass up on the roof."
Coleman shook his head. "You get up on the roof. I've got this handled."
"Stop wasting time. Drop the tanks down there and get moving. They're probably running low on ammunition."
Coleman reluctantly dropped two more tanks by the side door and then