Oceans Of Fire

Manning released the brake and repelled to the ground, releasing the rope from his harness. “Phoenix Four deployed and clear!”

“Roger, Phoenix Four.” Grimaldi took his helicopter back above the rooftops and resumed the chase.

The doors of the crashed Land Cruiser flew open.

The big Barrett was too unwieldy for a close-range fire-fight. Manning shrugged out of the sling and drew his pistol. The Para-Ordinance P16-40 barked in his hands as he began double-tapping the enemy. The range was twenty-five yards and the big Canadian could see the bulge of body armor beneath their jackets. At that distance he could reliably put every shot into a dinner plate in rapid fire. His first double-tap shot away one hardguy’s jaw, and his second neatly put out another man’s eye and brain as he went for head shots.

Manning moved toward cover as men deployed from the opposite side of the Land Cruiser. He dived behind a white Sputnik 4×4 sedan and rolled up, slamming his pistol across the hood. The .40-caliber weapon barked twice, cracking the skull of one of the Russian hardmen behind the SUV. Manning dropped low as the other two men opened up, their compact assault rifles spewing flame like buzz saws in their hands.

“Shit!” The Phoenix Force commando flinched as bullets zinged straight through the car he was using for cover. He jammed himself as low as possible between the curb and the tires. The Sputnik shuddered above him as it was riddled by automatic fire. The bullets zipped through and blasted on into the hairdresser’s shop behind him. A bullet plucked at the shoulder of his jacket and sparks flashed inches over his eyes as the car body tore like cheesecloth. “Phoenix Four requesting immediate backup!”

“Phoenix Four, this is Phoenix One, I’m on your twelve!”

A man screamed as McCarter opened up from behind. Manning leaped to his feet as the remaining Russian dived over the hood of the Land Cruiser to avoid McCarter. Manning whipped up his pistol. His first two rounds hit the killer in the chest, standing him up and pushing him back against the vehicle’s fender. The Russian raised his rifle even as he took hits.

His forehead geysered jellied brain as McCarter’s bullet transversed his skull from behind. Manning holstered his pistol and sprinted forward, confiscating the dead man’s rifle and his bandolier of spare magazines.

McCarter came up at the run. “Phoenix Flight, sitrep!”

“We have third vehicle directly beneath us,” Grimaldi reported.

“Phoenix Two, what’s your position?”

“Parallel course,” Encizo replied.

“Step on it! Pull ahead three blocks and Phoenix Flight will vector you in.” Manning fell into step with McCarter, scooping up his Barrett .50 as they charged up the street. McCarter broke into a dead run. “Take them out.”

“Affirmative, Phoenix One.” McCarter could hear the roar of Encizo’s engine over the link as he accelerated. “Taking them down now.”

CHAPTER SIX

“We’re getting goddamn hammered!” Forbes thrust his finger angrily over the driver’s shoulder and pointed at Manning where he knelt in the middle of the intersection. “Run his ass down, Gurza! Do you hear me? Run his ass down!”

Gurza stood on the accelerator. Manning made no attempt to move. Calvin James cradled his rifle, prepared to blow out Gurza’s brains. Zhol rode shotgun next to Gurza, and Forbes was next to James on the seat. Sharkov and one of his hardmen were in the back, sitting on the nuclear devices. James doubted he could get all six, but that was his last option. Ideally, Phoenix Force would force the vehicle to a halt and convince Sharkov and Zhol to surrender. If that succeeded, then James would go along and surrender, also, continuing his cover and hopefully getting Forbes to drop information about the who and the where the nuclear demolition charges were headed.

If Sharkov and Zhol decided to go down fighting, James would be the Trojan horse and blindside their attack. His other duty was to make sure no one in the vehicle decided to go down in a blaze of glory and detonate the devices in downtown Dushanbe.

However, James wasn’t about to let Gary Manning get turned into applesauce across the armored car’s grille. The muzzle of his weapon drifted to the back of the driver’s head.

Gurza swore. James watched through the armored glass as Manning was sky-craned into the air like a jumping jack up and over their vehicle. Forbes flipped his assault rifle to automatic fire as he swiveled. Manning had already repelled back down and was engaging the crashed car.

“God…damn it!” Forbes’s face was a mask of rage. “Who are these guys!”

“Clay, that mother had a Barrett .50. These guys, they aren’t mafiya. They’re operators.” James stared at Forbes grimly. “Brother, we’re in trouble.”

Sharkov snarled from the back of the truck. “Gotron! He was captured! Compromised! He betrayed us! I told you not to trust that goddamn hill bandit!”

“Gotron Khan did not know enough to betray us.” Zhol produced a Russian R-92 revolver like a magic trick. The muzzle of the snubnose gaped only inches from James’s eyebrows. “But he did.”

Forbes spoke in a very low, very professional voice. “Mr. Zhol, we checked the man. His bonafides are real. We checked his room and everything he owns for bugs. I was with him every minute of the day and Bermet was with him at night. He had no way to communicate.”

“Nevertheless.” Zhol thumbed back the shrouded hammer of the revolver. He and James locked gazes. “He betrayed us.”

Sharkov’s carbine pressed into the back of James’s head. “Bastard…”

James wasn’t entirely certain his weapon would cut through the armored panel in Zhol’s seat back, but he wouldn’t live to raise it, and regardless, it would be the last thing he ever did. He spoke without taking his eyes off Zhol. “Clay…”

Forbes’s voice went cold. “Mr. Zhol…”

Zhol ignored Forbes as he and James continued their staring contest. “Will your friends negotiate for your release?” He smiled slightly as he answered his own question. “No, but they will pretend to, to buy time and set us up for another ambush. Mr. Forbes, take his weapon. Sharkov, radio the helicopter. Tell them to come into the city. We are extracting from the square in Pamir Park, but first, tell them to shoot down the enemy helicopter.”

Sharkov began to shout in his radio.

Zhol still hadn’t blinked. “Mr. Forbes, take Mr. James’s weapon.” He spoke to Sharkov’s man in the back. “Levchenko, if Mr. Forbes does not take Mr. James’s weapon, shoot him in the head.”

Levchenko pointed his rifle at the back of Forbes’s gleaming skull.

Forbes’s weapon was pointed at the driver. “I’ll blow Gurza’s head off. This car will crash, and we all go down.”

“Mr. Forbes, you know I respect you, but right now our priority is extraction. We can settle this situation later.” Zhol’s eyes and the muzzle of his pistol stayed trained on Calvin James. “But I am not going to ask you again. Take his weapon.”

Forbes grimaced. “Cal, give me the goddamn gun. I got your back. Once we’re out of here I’ll straighten this shit out.”

James shrugged. “Fuck it.”

The compact assault rifle clattered to the floorboards. Everyone except Zhol sighed with palpable relief. Zhol’s one concession was that he uncocked his revolver. “Good.”

“I got your back, Cal.” Forbes leaned down and picked up the rifle. “We’ll straighten this shit out. I promise you.”

Zhol jerked the muzzle of his pistol at James’s waist. “The pistol, if you please.”

Everyone’s attention was on James. Even the driver had been keeping his attention on the rearview mirror, flicking his gaze back and forth between James and Forbes and the assault rifle aimed at his head.

They hadn’t seen what the Phoenix Force warrior saw over Zhol’s shoulder. James lifted his chin. “What’s that?”

Everyone in the armored car looked out the passenger-side windows.

“Shit!” Forbes roared.

Calvin James braced himself as Gurza desperately cranked the wheel.

The last thing anyone saw before the world ended was Rafael Encizo grinning out of the roll cage of the Tarantula 4x4. The off-road vehicle T-boned the Land Cruiser broadside at fifty miles per hour. The armored SUV whipped into a violent 360-degree spin. Gurza lost control of the vehicle and rolled it. The world tumbled end-over-end as metal buckled, tearing and screaming into ruin. Sharkov and his man in the back weren’t strapped in, and one of them bounced into the passenger area and landed on top of James and Forbes. The Phoenix Force commando grunted as the big man crushed him and was instantly flipped away as the Toyota rolled again. James tried to brace himself, but a ten-kiloton nuclear demolition charge bounced squarely into his face. He saw stars and tumbled with everyone else like the contents of an armored cocktail shaker. The Land Cruiser hit something and bounced. Everyone and everything collapsed to the roof as the SUV came to a rest on its back like a turned-over turtle.

The world was still spinning and James viewed it upside down and through a very long and dark tunnel. His mouth was full of blood and he couldn’t clear his head. Battle instincts took over. He clawed for the door handle and shoved. The armored door was heavy, but James pushed it open with a groan. He reached back and his hand closed around pack straps. He crawled out of the Land Cruiser dragging the nuke onto the pavement with him.

It was early morning, but people were leaning out of windows and gathering on the street, shouting. James pushed himself to his hands and knees to retrieve the other device.

He threw up instead.