45. Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter forty-five
Noble heard a foot clang against metal. He stood in the shadowy cab of the crane high above the scrapyard. The structure gently swayed as someone mounted the ladder. Noble cursed under his breath.
He should have expected them to put a man in the crane. Noble would have done the same. Captain Zeqiri was an experienced combat leader. He’d been on the front lines of the Kosovo war and knew he needed to control the high ground.
Another boot rang softly on metal. Whoever was coming up, was trying to stay quiet, and mostly succeeding.
Noble didn’t have room to maneuver inside the crane.
It was just a cramped box with a control panel and a seat for the operator.
A faded placard near the door gave simple directions, along with several warnings, complete with pictures.
A girlie magazine collected dust atop the control bank.
Time and the elements had faded the cover, making the title impossible to read. Wind battered grime-crusted windows.
Noble resisted the urge to peek. People on ladders inevitably look up. He couldn’t risk being seen. Not yet. The element of surprise was his only advantage. He pressed himself into the corner and waited.
The climber lost patience as he mounted the last few rungs, and picked up speed, pulling himself hand-over-hand, boots clanging on metal.
Noble couldn’t blame him. He wanted to be inside the crane, hidden from prying eyes.
Far as the climber was concerned, the threat was somewhere below, hiding in the junkyard, and every second on the latter was a second exposed.
Noble tried to merge with the wall, pressing himself tight to the cold steel in an attempt to stay hidden.
He took in some air, held it, and let it out slow.
His breath sounded impossibly loud in his own ears, a tropical storm snatching branches from trees and sending them sailing through the air.
His heart thudded inside his chest. He needed to take the climber out, quietly.
His entire plan rested on maneuvering Zeqiri and his troops into place.
That wouldn’t happen if the climber raised the alarm.
A dozen different options chased through Noble’s head as he took stock of the situation. The climber would be at the top of the ladder any second, crawling into the cab. Noble could solve the problem with a simple kick, but falling people scream.
That was no good.
He flexed his fingers, rolled his shoulders to loosen them up, and waited. He wouldn’t get a second chance at this.
A hand appeared at the top rung, slapping the metal, then a man’s head and shoulders pushed through the opening. It was Mr. Sideburns. He had half a dozen magazines strapped to his chest harness. A dragunov rifle bumped against his back. The overpowering stink of his cologne filled the small space.
Sideburns was too busy searching for handholds as he scrambled into the cab. He didn’t notice Noble until it was too late.
Noble waited for Sideburns to get a foot firmly planted on the floor before moving.
He snaked an arm around Sideburn’s neck, pulling the man back into a hug, and pressed his other arm against his enemy’s head, closing off the man’s air supply.
It was a classic sleeper hold, taught in judo schools the world over, and went to work almost immediately.
Sideburns didn’t go down easy though. He twisted and bucked, in a desperate attempt to escape, but the battle was over almost before it started.
Sideburns tried to wriggle his fingers under Noble’s arm, to create some breathing room, and when that didn’t work, he tried to get at his rifle, but the weapon was trapped between him and Noble.
His heels drummed the floor, creating a wild beat.
It sounded like someone banging on the inside of a metal drum.
One arm reached back to grasp at Noble’s face.
By that time, his brain was already starved for oxygen and his eyes had rolled up.
His hand flapped uselessly against Noble’s cheek.
His feet stopped kicking. His muscles relaxed. He slumped.
Noble lowered him to the floor, keeping a tight grip on the man’s neck, making sure the air didn’t go rushing back in.
Sleeper holds are great, as long as you keep holding.
The moment you let go, the autonomous system takes over and your opponent will automatically suck wind.
Noble couldn’t have that. He put Sideburns on the ground, took the man’s chin in one hand, and gripped the back of his head tight, then twisted.
Vertebra snapped with a loud pop. Sideburn’s head impacted the metal floor with a lifeless thud.