Nuclear Storm

“Afraid so. If it makes you feel any better, he died saving my life.” Bolan pushed the double doors open and used the one closest to the elevator as a shield, peeking around it to scout the hallway.

“Akira, what’s the security situation?”

“You sure stirred up a hornet’s nest, Striker—”

“I didn’t bring the guns to this party, but I’m damn sure gonna use them to clear the way out. What’s the best route to get to the garage?”

“They’re putting men on every elevator. Can you take the stairs?”

Bolan glanced at Dae-jung, whose head lolled on his shoulders as he stared at his rescuer. “Negative. Target is in no condition to run down fifty-four flights.”

“Then you’ll probably want to ambush the two guards coming out of the first car, and grab that one. They’ll be there in about fifteen seconds.”

“This job just keeps getting better and better,” Bolan gritted, hauling the scientist toward the elevator.

He’d just reached the alcove when he heard the soft chime indicating the car’s arrival. Bolan propped the doctor up against the wall. “Stay here.” The Korean waved at him weakly as Bolan ran into the alcove, passing the door to stand on the other side. He got there just as the doors opened and two security guards ran out, hands on their holstered pistols. Bolan stepped out and aimed his subgun at them. “Freeze!”

Both men whirled, then raised their hands when they saw Bolan had the drop on them. He pointed at the ground. “Lie on the ground, hands on your heads!”

The two men complied. “Better hurry, Striker—a lot more are coming.”

“Going as fast as I can.” Bolan ran over to them and removed their pistols, tossing them down the hallway. Grabbing Dae-jung, he hurried the man into the elevator, making sure the guards’ eyes were staring at the polished marble floor. Bolan stabbed the button for the garage. “I hope you’ve overridden all the security on this cage.”

“Of course. What did you think I’d been doing while you were rubbing elbows with the high and mighty? You should be reaching the lowest level in approximately twenty seconds.”

“Got it. Hey, are you all right?” he asked Dae-jung, who was leaning against the elevator wall, breathing rapidly. His face was pasty, and a sheen of sweat had broken out on his forehead.

“I don’t—I don’t feel so well.”

“Given how much booze you put away, I’m not surprised. We’re going to a vehicle in the garage, and from there to the airport, where a plane is waiting to take you back to the United States. Just a half hour or so, and we’ll be in the air.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“You will soon enough.” The elevator dinged, and Bolan grabbed Dae-jung’s shoulder and supported him as they exited, walking out into a nondescript corridor. “What the hell, Akira? Where’s the garage?”

“Those elevators don’t go directly to the parking levels. You’ll need to turn right and go approximately forty yards. There will be a door marked like the one on your smartphone that should give you access to the garage level.”

Bolan began jogging down the hallway, half-carrying, half-dragging the semiconscious scientist along with him.

“Turn at the next door on your right.”

Bolan did so and was rewarded with the bare concrete minimalism of the hotel’s garage.

“The vehicle is on this level, Bay C halfway down the aisle, a green Toyota Harrier SUV,” Tokaido said.

“Good, I have a feeling I might need the room.” Bolan checked for any movement or active vehicles on the level before hauling Dae-jung out with him and crossing to the closest concrete pillar. He had just reached it when the roar of a motorcycle shattered the silence. The driver revved his engine, the echo making it almost impossible to tell where it was coming from.

Bolan looked around for a map, and saw he had reached Bay B. “Doctor, we have to go a little further to reach my car. You still with me?”

“I think so…unless I throw up first…” The Korean scientist’s face had taken on a gray pallor, and his eyes had become even more unfocused.

“It’s just a few more yards. Hang on a bit longer and then you can rest. Here we go.”

Still supporting the semiconscious man with his free hand, Bolan kept the MP-9 ready as they started to cross the next bay. The moment they passed the immaculate black Bentley on the other side, a bright light turned on, illuminating Bolan and his charge in its halogen light. Before he could blink or aim, the light leaped forward as the motorcycle shot straight for them, the helmeted driver extending a pistol to shoot as he zoomed by.

Chapter 3

If he’d been alone, Bolan would have moved to intercept the motorcyclist and take him out, but his first goal had to be protecting Dae-jung.

He whipped the other man around, shielding him with his body as he drove him to the floor. At the same time, he brought up the MP-9 and fired a burst in the bike’s general direction. Bolan wasn’t expecting to hit anything, but he figured the surprise of finding out his prey was armed might spoil the rider’s aim.

He was right. The gunman’s nerve broke as Bolan’s weapon spit rounds near him. Swerving, he almost lost control of his blue-and-white street bike, the back wheel fishtailing on the smooth concrete floor, but pulled it out at the last second and zoomed around the ramp. His pistol shots, however, went wild.

As soon as the biker was completely past, Bolan hauled Dae-jung to his feet. “We’ve got to move!” Even as he said that, however, another single headlight lit them both up, and the garage level reverberated with the roar of the motorcycle coming at them again.

Before Bolan could even think about crossing the few yards of empty space between them and the next lot, the biker was on them, his pistol spitting bullets.

Bolan did the only thing he could do—he heaved Dae-jung over the hood of the Bentley and dived after him, hoping they both would get to cover before any of the bullets found them. He heard the thunks as the lead punched through the fender of the luxury car they hid behind. As he landed on the concrete, Bolan caught a glimpse of a yellow-and-red motorcycle racing by, its rider snapping off a shot that smacked into the low concrete wall at the head of the row, just above Bolan’s head, showering him with dusts and rock chips.

“Are we there yet?” Dae-jung asked, looking around.

“Not quite.”

Two shooters! Bolan had to admire the relative neatness of the trap they were in. With both ends blocked, no matter how he tried to advance or retreat, Bolan and Dae-jung would always be facing one or both of the bikers. Even with his submachine gun, the bikes were fast and maneuverable in the enclosed space, canceling almost all of the advantage of a fully automatic weapon.

The bikes roared again, preparing to make another run-and-gun pass. Bolan glanced at the vehicle behind them, a Lexus luxury SUV with a relatively high ground clearance. His plan formed instantly.

“Doctor, I need you to hide under here for a bit.” Bolan shoved him under the SUV.

With a strained gasp, the Korean disappeared under the SUV. Bolan hit the ground as well, trying to figure out which biker would be coming for them first.

“What the hell’s going on?” Tokaido asked.

“I’ve got two trigger-happy motorcyclists trying to take us both out in the garage!” Bolan snapped. “They’ve got us pinned down in Bay B.”

“Oh, yeah, I see ’em. Looks like the one above you is about to make another pass.”

“You can see him? How far away is he?”

“Yeah, I’m hacked into the security cams. He’s about twenty yards from you. What does that have to—”

“Perfect! Hold on!” Bolan dropped to his stomach and crawled under the Lexus, bracing his MP-9 with both hands in front of him. The bike’s engine reached a high point as the rider gunned his throttle, then took off down the ramp.

Bolan gave him a two-count to get up to speed, then squeezed the trigger of his weapon, emptying the magazine. The biker drove straight into the stream of bullets, which chewed up his leg and punched into the bike’s engine. Losing control, he spun out and flipped off the street machine, which fell over and crashed into the far wall, pinning the biker between it and the cinder blocks. Bolan rolled out and took aim in case the shooter was coming up for more, but man’s body lay unmoving on the floor.

“One down. Where’s the other one?” Bolan asked while ejecting the empty magazine and reloading.

“At the bottom of the ramp on your six. He seems uncertain—he’s not moving forward yet.”