The Persona Protocol - By Andy McDermott Page 0,16
a better signal. Khattak reached the end of the alley, emerging on a street. He looked up.
An apartment block across the road stood five floors high, taller than its neighbours. Rain-soaked washing hung heavily from a line on its roof. There was a way up there. He swerved around a passing autorickshaw and ran for the building’s entrance. ‘Don’t let him get to the roof!’ he called back to Marwat.
‘The cell tower’s down,’ Holly Jo told Adam. ‘We cut off his call.’
Adam didn’t reply. It wouldn’t take Khattak long to get into range of another mast.
Marwat angled right as he ran out from the alley’s far end, following Khattak. Adam was only seconds behind, gaining on the two men. He had the SIG in his hand, but knew that the chances of hitting a running target while he himself was sprinting were practically zero, even with his training. Instead, he rushed into the open—
To see a car coming at him.
The battered Nissan was barely doing twenty miles per hour, but still slithered on the wet road, ill-maintained brakes shrilling. Adam banged both hands down on its hood to absorb some of the impact, taking a painful blow to his hip. He staggered before regaining his balance and continuing after Marwat. The driver yelled angrily as he ran past.
The collision had cost him several seconds. Khattak had disappeared into a building. Marwat went through its entrance.
A woman cried out. His gun had been seen. He ignored the spreading alarm and ran to the entrance.
A small lobby area floored in dirty red tile. He heard the rapid thud of footsteps from the narrow wooden staircase.
They’ll set an ambush on the stairs . . .
Adam’s own assessment of the situation was the same as Syed’s. But he had to make the ascent to stop Khattak from warning the rest of the terrorist cell. He ran up the stairs, gun at the ready.
When would the attack come? Marwat would be waiting – but on which floor?
The stairwell was confined, dark. He pounded up it, the umbrella’s handle scraping against the wall. Nobody on the first landing. He could still hear hurrying feet above as Khattak headed for the roof.
He continued upwards. Was Marwat waiting for him on the next landing, or the one after?
This one—
The Pakistani lunged into view, pointing his gun down the stairs – but Adam was prepared and had his own weapon raised. He fired just as Marwat saw the danger and jerked back. The bullet narrowly missed and hit a wall, scattering scabs of shattered plaster.
He reached the landing. Marwat’s pistol came up—
Adam swept his own gun arm across Marwat’s chest to knock the muzzle away as the terrorist pulled the trigger. The shot was painfully loud in the confined space. The American drove his shoulder against the other man’s sternum, slamming him back against the wall.
With his right arm holding his opponent’s gun at bay, Adam couldn’t get a shot with the SIG. Instead he drove his left fist into Marwat’s stomach. Two punches, three. The terrorist gasped in pain.
Adam shifted his weight, about to drive his elbow into the other man’s groin—
Marwat threw himself forward.
The impact made Adam stumble. As he fought to stay upright, Marwat charged, forcing him across the landing.
They crashed against a door. It burst open, the lock splintering from the frame. Adam tripped as he reeled into the room. Both men fell, the American taking the brunt as he collided with a small table. It collapsed beneath him. Marwat landed heavily on top of him, knocking the breath from Adam’s lungs . . .
And the gun from his hand.
Marwat immediately saw his advantage. He pushed himself off Adam.
Adam swept his hand over the floor to search for the P228. He found no metal, only wood—
The crouching terrorist brought up his gun – only to screech in pain as one of the broken table’s legs smashed against his wrist like a baseball bat. The shot went wide. Before he could recover, Adam’s heel hit his knee. He tumbled on to his back.
Adam threw the makeshift club at him and rolled to search for his gun. It had ended up a few feet away. He scrambled for it.
Marwat sat up, enraged. He saw his adversary moving and took aim—
Adam was faster, snatching up the SIG and twisting to fire in a single fluid motion. The bullet hit Marwat in the right side of his chest, a rope of dark blood gushing out as he fell backwards.