tension. “You see anything?”
“We need to fall back,” said another.
A pair of green targeting lasers snapped on, threading through the haze. “Stay focused. Find this guy!”
Jack kept low, and out of the smoke came a figure clad in blue and black, sweeping the muzzle of his weapon back and forth. The stolen X2 still had another charge in it, so Jack pivoted and jammed it into the ribs of the agent.
The stun gun buzzed like a hornet in a tin can, and the agent screamed. His hand twitched and he unwittingly fired off a burst from his weapon, a cluster of 10mm rounds ripping into the plaster of the ceiling. Jack let him fall and moved toward one of the other voices.
He heard a crash as the agent carrying the shotgun collided with a freestanding lamp, glass crunching underfoot. Jack repeated the same attack he had used on the man in the bathroom and came in low, aiming a lethal kick down at the point where he guessed his knee would be.
His aim was good. Bone cracked and the shotgunner folded, howling in agony. Jack silenced him with a second and then a third blow, before sweeping up the Remington and moving after the last man.
The final member of the tactical team was retreating back toward the vague outline of the ruined doorway when the muzzle of the shotgun was suddenly pressing into his throat. He froze.
“Put your weapon down,” said Jack. “Drop the gun belt too. Do it now.”
The agent did as he was told. “Easy, Bauer…” he began. “What do you think you’re doing, man? You gonna kill me? You’re just making this worse.”
“No one here is dead,” Jack shot back, and then with a savage jerk he cracked the agent across the face with the butt of the Remington, knocking him out.
He spun the gun around and fired toward the windows of the apartment, blowing out the blinds and the glass with each shot. Immediately, the smoke began to vent into the evening air. He dropped into a crouch and ran a professional eye over the unconscious FBI agent’s gear.
A tinny voice issued out of the radio clipped to the agent’s shoulder. “ This is Kilner, tac team report! Report! Does anyone copy this message, over? ”
Jack snatched up the radio handset and stuffed it in a jacket pocket, and then with quick, spare motions, he stripped the downed agents of all the gear he was going to need and stuffed it into his gym bag.
04
Agent Kilner stared at the radio handset, his throat dry. “I repeat, does anyone copy my transmission?”
Only static answered him. The two NYPD cops had emerged from their car after the sounds of the grenade detonations, and now they stood, guns drawn, staring up at the streamers of white smoke billowing out of the shattered apartment windows. Kilner heard one of them calling it in, and the other shot him a look. “We’re gonna check the entrance, you stay put!”
Both men sprinted across Twenty-Third Street, veering around stalled cabs and other traffic that had slowed to take a look at the unfolding confusion. Kilner discarded the tactical radio and pulled his cell phone, hitting the redial key. “Agent Hadley, where are you?”
Hadley’s voice had the echoing timbre of someone on a speakerphone. “ I’m three blocks away, damn traffic is a pain in the ass in this city. What’s wrong? ”
“I’ve lost contact with the SWAT team! The unit commander insisted on going in straightaway, he didn’t want to wait for you to get here.”
Kilner could hear sirens in the background of the call, and seconds later the same sound reached him. Hadley swore under his breath. “ I warned them not to underestimate Bauer. ”
Without warning, the Ford rocked as someone wrenched open one of the rear doors and dropped into the seat behind him.
“Good advice,” said a voice that was all gravel and hard edges. An FBI-issue Springfield M1911A1 semiautomatic pressed into the back of Kilner’s neck and a hand snaked forward to snatch the phone from him, cutting off the call.
The
“We need to fall back,” said another.
A pair of green targeting lasers snapped on, threading through the haze. “Stay focused. Find this guy!”
Jack kept low, and out of the smoke came a figure clad in blue and black, sweeping the muzzle of his weapon back and forth. The stolen X2 still had another charge in it, so Jack pivoted and jammed it into the ribs of the agent.
The stun gun buzzed like a hornet in a tin can, and the agent screamed. His hand twitched and he unwittingly fired off a burst from his weapon, a cluster of 10mm rounds ripping into the plaster of the ceiling. Jack let him fall and moved toward one of the other voices.
He heard a crash as the agent carrying the shotgun collided with a freestanding lamp, glass crunching underfoot. Jack repeated the same attack he had used on the man in the bathroom and came in low, aiming a lethal kick down at the point where he guessed his knee would be.
His aim was good. Bone cracked and the shotgunner folded, howling in agony. Jack silenced him with a second and then a third blow, before sweeping up the Remington and moving after the last man.
The final member of the tactical team was retreating back toward the vague outline of the ruined doorway when the muzzle of the shotgun was suddenly pressing into his throat. He froze.
“Put your weapon down,” said Jack. “Drop the gun belt too. Do it now.”
The agent did as he was told. “Easy, Bauer…” he began. “What do you think you’re doing, man? You gonna kill me? You’re just making this worse.”
“No one here is dead,” Jack shot back, and then with a savage jerk he cracked the agent across the face with the butt of the Remington, knocking him out.
He spun the gun around and fired toward the windows of the apartment, blowing out the blinds and the glass with each shot. Immediately, the smoke began to vent into the evening air. He dropped into a crouch and ran a professional eye over the unconscious FBI agent’s gear.
A tinny voice issued out of the radio clipped to the agent’s shoulder. “ This is Kilner, tac team report! Report! Does anyone copy this message, over? ”
Jack snatched up the radio handset and stuffed it in a jacket pocket, and then with quick, spare motions, he stripped the downed agents of all the gear he was going to need and stuffed it into his gym bag.
04
Agent Kilner stared at the radio handset, his throat dry. “I repeat, does anyone copy my transmission?”
Only static answered him. The two NYPD cops had emerged from their car after the sounds of the grenade detonations, and now they stood, guns drawn, staring up at the streamers of white smoke billowing out of the shattered apartment windows. Kilner heard one of them calling it in, and the other shot him a look. “We’re gonna check the entrance, you stay put!”
Both men sprinted across Twenty-Third Street, veering around stalled cabs and other traffic that had slowed to take a look at the unfolding confusion. Kilner discarded the tactical radio and pulled his cell phone, hitting the redial key. “Agent Hadley, where are you?”
Hadley’s voice had the echoing timbre of someone on a speakerphone. “ I’m three blocks away, damn traffic is a pain in the ass in this city. What’s wrong? ”
“I’ve lost contact with the SWAT team! The unit commander insisted on going in straightaway, he didn’t want to wait for you to get here.”
Kilner could hear sirens in the background of the call, and seconds later the same sound reached him. Hadley swore under his breath. “ I warned them not to underestimate Bauer. ”
Without warning, the Ford rocked as someone wrenched open one of the rear doors and dropped into the seat behind him.
“Good advice,” said a voice that was all gravel and hard edges. An FBI-issue Springfield M1911A1 semiautomatic pressed into the back of Kilner’s neck and a hand snaked forward to snatch the phone from him, cutting off the call.
The
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