Chapter 73
Drawn by the cat’s scream, Duncan raced up the stairs toward the bunker’s main floor, taking the steps two at a time.
His shadow danced ahead of him, his body lit from behind by Archie’s bobbling flashlight.
With a broken wrist, Duncan could only manage the rifle.
He carried it one-handed while resting its barrel on his bloody forearm.
As they neared the top floor, his shadow dissolved into the shine of daylight flowing through the bunker’s blasted facade.
He slowed, wary of an ambush, and paused at the last step.
A quick peek showed the true extent of the rocket’s damage.
Boulders, bricks, and shattered sections of walls formed a treacherous labyrinth.
Winds from outside stirred sand and dust into a haze.
He headed out, dashing for the closest cover.
Through all the debris, he could not see any sign of Julian.
Archie skidded next to Duncan. He had already tossed aside his flashlight, so it didn’t give away their position. “Anything?” he whispered.
Duncan shook his head. “We keep going.”
As he stepped out of cover, a burst of movement drew his eye. Julian fled toward the gaping exit. Once he crossed the threshold, he spun around and fired on full auto, backpedaling as he did so, propelled by both the rifle’s recoil and terror.
Duncan retreated, bumping into Archie.
But none of the rounds came near them. Julian hadn’t even been shooting in their direction.
His angle of fire was too low, aimed toward the neighboring barricade of broken rocks.
From that shelter, a tawny shape burst forth with a speed that seemed impossible, transforming flesh into shadow.
None of the rounds seemed to strike the furious lynx.
Katch leaped and struck Julian in the chest, transforming from shadow back to savage muscle. The impact carried the cat’s prey to the lip of the cliff—then over it.
Both man and beast plummeted away.
Julian continued to scream. Duncan pictured Katch ripping into the man as they fell. Then a long moment later, the agonized cries cut off with a distant thud of flesh on rock.
Archie stepped next to him, stunned into silence.
In respect for the dead.
But not for Julian, of course.
In that quiet, a new noise arose. The harsh rumble of a helicopter’s engine. The reverberations quickly grew into a roar.
Duncan cringed at the implication, reminded that Julian wasn’t the only concern here.
“Tissot and Ferhat!”
He and Archie ran for the exit. Each step shot pain up his arm, but he did not slow. Duncan burst outside. Above, a blue sky defied this dark day. Blinded by the brightness, he squinted toward the plateau.
One of the helicopter’s blades spun into a blur. The other two followed to match.
“Over there!” Archie yelled and pointed to the far end of the trail.
Two figures rushed toward the plateau. Ferhat hauled Tissot by the arm. The captain must have radioed ahead, ordering an immediate evacuation.
Archie cursed loudly.
Duncan understood his fury.
No way we can reach them in time.
Then from around the mountain’s shoulder, a trio of massive military choppers, badged with roundels of the Italian air force, swung into view.
They swept down upon the plateau. From side hatches, soldiers fired at the helicopters, shattering canopies and rotors.
One engine coughed up a spat of flames, then a gout of black smoke.
Ferhat shoved Tissot away, sending the cardinal into a faceplant on the rock. The captain tried to make a run for the slope that led to a neighboring bowl. But rounds sparked across the rock, caught him, and tore him apart.
Duncan retreated, pushing Archie toward the bunker’s opening. He didn’t want them to be mistaken for enemy combatants. To ensure that, he tossed his rifle down and waved for Archie to do the same.
One of the helicopters swept past the opening in a squall of hard wind. The open hatch faced them. Both Duncan and Archie lifted their arms high. A helmeted soldier manned a mounted gun, pointing its barrel at them.
Behind him, a smaller figure pushed forward and shouted—not at them, but at the gunman. Though buried in a vest and helmet, this one was easy enough to identify.
“Naomi . . .” Duncan gasped out.
Another figure, equally weighed down by armor, joined her.
Archie frowned. “Is that my dad?”