running towards enemy fire, but not by much. He leapt the cinder-block wall and then slipped on an old dust-covered tarp when he landed on the other side. He came crashing down in a heap next to the German woman just as Court expended the last of his mag.
Both Americans huddled low behind the wall as incoming fire sprayed in their direction.
Zack was closer to Annika than Court, but Court knew she had stumbled as they ran. “Check her for holes,” he instructed, and Zack crawled to her, slicing his forearms on broken stone as he did so. With a flashlight in his mouth he felt all over her, then crawled back to Court.
“GSW, right calf. Not a big deal, we’ll all have a lot more than that to worry about if these assholes regroup and come at us.”
Court said, “I only saw one muzzle flash. Left wall. Our ten o’clock. Through a doorway.”
“Affirm,” said Zack. “I saw one go into that door, two more take the catwalk up to a door on the second floor, right side. Our eleven hundred high.”
“That’s three. Should be four.”
Zack thought it over. “You popped one and I popped one. You’re right.”
“Where’s the other fucker?”
“Probably flanking our asses.”
“That’s what I’d do.”
Zack said, “Let’s separate. I go right, head for that iron vertical beam, ’bout thirty feet away. I’ll watch our six for flankers. You keep Eva Braun right here and stay low, but keep up the fire.”
Court checked his load out. He had one more UMP magazine, and his HK pistol with two mags. Zack did the same, and found that he had half a mag in his subgun and one pistol mag left.
“Take my UMP,” Court said, and he handed it to Zack, who in turn handed Court his last pistol mag.
Court looked at it. “Steyr? I’m carrying an HK.”
“Strip it for rounds if you need to. You’re the dumbass that wanted to hit this on the light side.”
Zack climbed up to a crouch, fired a short burst over the wall, then took off to the right. Court held his VP9 over the wall and fired a half- dozen rounds.
He couldn’t see if Zack made it; cloud cover had all but blacked out the light on the factory floor, so he called out to him.
“You good?”
“I’m here!” The men were speaking louder than necessary, a result of all the gunfire.
A voice shouted out from the darkened room off the factory floor some thirty yards away, surprising Court. “Hey! Hey! Are you motherfuckers American?”
Court did not respond, but after a few seconds Zack shouted back. “Who’s asking?”
There was a long pause, and then the same voice said, “Who are you working for?”
Zack replied again. “America, dipshit. Who are you working for?”
“America, too.”
Zack said, “Tell you what. You boys drop your weapons, thread your fingers behind your heads, and walk backwards towards us, one at a time. You do that, and we can all hang out and talk about apple pie and Ford trucks.”
The voice from the other side said, “I’m a GM guy myself. And I’m on the job, otherwise we could party all night.”
Court spoke for the first time. “Whatever job you’re on, it’s going to get you killed.”
“There’s five of us and two of you.”
Court only knew of four. He looked over to Zack and could just barely make out his partner’s silhouette, happy to see he was sweeping his rifle behind him, watching out for anyone flanking through the doors on the west side of the factory.
He said, “There used to be eight of you.”
“Seven.”
Court thought about what he’d seen of these men in action. He was playing a strong hunch when he said, “I bet that shithead I killed in Caracas would be pissed to know his TL had forgotten about him a week later.”
Now there was a longer pause than before. “So . . . you’re Gentry? The fucker from Caracas that killed Ronnie?”
“I didn’t catch his name,” Court replied.
The German woman remained huddled next to Court, pressed low below the cinder blocks, but she said, “Why are you making him angrier?”
Court whispered, “We can’t attack them, there are too many. We can only defend. But we’ve got to get you out of here. I’m either going to scare him off or make him attack us.”
“You want five men with guns attacking us?”
“No, I want to be home on the couch watching TV, but I’m working with the situation in front of me.”
Court quickly fumbled in a pocket and