47. Impromptu Escape
Impromptu Escape
The ground shook violently and the walls groaned in agony.
A second alarm howled outside the main doors that led to the hallway on the penthouse floor.
The sweet cadence of gunfire had stopped suddenly and now only the soft hum of the alarm filtered through the heavy oak doors.
Amir paced from the computer to the bar, gun in hand, and shook it violently.
“Amir, the computer, it’s back on!” Nazim said. Amir, focused on the security monitor behind the bar top, watched as Alex and his team reached the main doors.
As the firefight raged, Amir and Nazim made it to the end of the ledge and jumped down to the next building.
“We left Theo,” Nazim said, breathing heavily. “And Salim? He never came back.”
“Salim is dead Nazim. They killed him. And Theo gave us a chance,” Amir said, pulling on his shirt. “We can’t waste it. Let’s go.”
“Dead? What do you mean?” Nazim cried out.
“Salim is gone. He fought to the end,” Amir replied. “We need to get to the yacht and complete the sale. Once it’s done, we can disappear.”
* * *
The two men rushed to a fire escape ladder at the end of the roof and descended down the ladder when a van approached in the distance.
Several men rushed out of it armed with long guns and made their way to the building where Alex and his team were located.
But in the distance, Saint was keeping a watchful eye.
“Spider. Come in. There are two men running on the rooftop of the building next door. Do I engage?” Saint said as he chambered a round.
“Affirmative. Eliminate all enemy hostiles,” Spider replied through the echo of gunfire.
“Have you secured the drive?” Saint asked, taking in a deep breath.
“Working on it!” Spider said and returned fire.
“I don’t think it’s in the building anymore,” Saint replied focusing on the backpack. “I see two men and one has a backpack. They’re using the fire escape to reach ground level.”
“What?” Belle screeched.
At that moment, the other men came into Saint’s view.
The six men gathered by the fire escape and waived their hands at Amir who was but ten feet above them.
It was then that one of those men spotted Saint.
His barrel protruding from the opposite building’s roof.
He opened fire on him with a fully automatic AKS-74U rifle.
“What is it?” Amir said as he hopped down.
“A man with a rifle. There!” The man firing at the roof replied.
“I don’t see anyone?” Amir replied. And suddenly a spray of red mist filled the air. The man who was shooting collapsed on him. The others quickly opened fire on the potted plant foliage turning the deep greens into a mushy paste.
“Go! Go! I want his head!” Amir yelled. He pushed the dead man off of him and stumbled down an alleyway. Nazim followed him like a shadow. And leading the way was Omar. He had business in the city, but managed to return just in time for the party.
“Is it the Nigerians? Or our old friends from Dubai? Who is attacking?” Omar said, leading the two men to a waiting car just across the street where the alley ended.
“It’s the Americans. The company. They sent their dogs after us,” Amir replied, wiping the blood from his face.
“And the yacht?” Nazim said.
“At the marina. Everything has been prepared for the auction,” Omar said. Amir, Nazim, and Omar entered a small black hatchback car and sped off towards the marina several blocks away.
The four men who remained were working their way to the rooftop where Saint was perched.
Eager to fulfill Amir’s wish, they foolishly underestimated the man perched above them.
The group glided up the stairs with the grace of a water buffalo.
Shouting in Arabic and firing blindly up the center of the staircase to the roof.
They were concerned that the sniper would pick them off from afar with ease. They never expected what happened next.
Saint emerged from a storage closet with a tactical knife in hand.
He cut through the first two men with the swiftness of a gazelle.
And the strength of a lion. He struck hard and true.
Targeting their vital points as the men fumbled their weapons.
Then came the third man. He managed to press the trigger and emptied it into an adjacent window of the third floor.
Saint had grabbed the barrel with his free hand as he slashed his opponent.
The third man collapsed. And then he approached the last man, who curiously had no rifle on him, but was in possession of a far more destructive weapon.
A grenade. Nestled in his hand, he caressed it like a newborn.
And then pulled the pin. Saint realized the man’s nefarious plot and quickly regressed to the window as the man followed zealously behind.
But the safety lever remained pressed. The man withdrew a knife and lunged at him.
“A Deadman’s switch?” Saint chuckled. “Nice try.”
Saint quickly drew his sidearm and aimed it at the man’s head.
He flinched. And then waived the grenade at him.
The two were at the end of a long hallway with no exit.
Save for a broken window. And a long fall to the ground below.
Saint glanced out the window and then looked towards the man.
And with a smirk, he moved the gun slightly and brought the grenade into its sights.
Then, he softly pressed the trigger to the man’s surprise.
At that moment, an enormous blast tore the man’s arm clean off and sent Saint barreling out the window and towards the loving embrace of a rosebush on the ground floor.