SEAL's Embrace (11 page)

Two men dressed in dark clothes, ski masks and black turbans held AK-47’s and stood guard at the door to the ICU. They waited, weapons at the ready, facing the elevator.

Caesar eased away from the door, ran back down to the second floor, checked for signs of enemy and rushed to the elevator. He pushed the button, the doors opened and he stepped in, pressed the button for the third floor and stepped back into the hallway.

Running back to the stairwell, he ignored the pain in his backside and took the stairs two at a time to the top and then paused, wincing at the pain in his backside.

When the elevator dinged, the two men left their posts and hurried toward the door as it slid open, pointing their weapons at the elevator car.

Caesar eased open the stairwell door and slipped through, closing it softly behind him. Moving with the stealth of a cat, he sneaked up behind the closest man, grabbed him from behind and shoved him hard into the other man, knocking them both into the door of the elevator. They landed half-in and half-out of the opening.

Surprise was on his side. While the two men struggled to untangle themselves, Caesar ripped the rifle from the hands of the nearest man, slammed the butt of the weapon into his head and swung it upward to clip the second man in the chin. Neither man had the opportunity to use their weapons. The elevator door attempted to close, but wouldn’t with the two men blocking the track.

Not knowing how much time he had before others might investigate the disturbance, Caesar dragged the men into the elevator and, using the straps on their weapons and their own turbans, he bound their arms and legs, quickly and effectively. After confiscating their guns and knives, he hit the button for the first floor and jumped back before the doors closed. Hopefully, the MP had made contact with the base security forces and they’d soon be on their way as backup.

Noise from the other side of the ICU doors alerted him to imminent danger. Caesar slipped into a waiting room, holding the AK-47 against his chest and peered around the edge of the entrance.

The door swung open and a litter was pushed through, the big wheels bumping against the door, jolting the patient and making the IV bags on either side of his body swing wildly.

If Caesar wasn’t mistaken, the patient was Hassani and the men taking him away were either members of the local Taliban or men dressed to resemble the Taliban or Al-Qaeda. They turned in the other direction and headed for the elevator.

Two more men emerged from the ICU, dragging a female hostage dressed in a dull green flight suit, kicking and fighting to the best of her ability.

One of the attackers sank his fingers into dark red hair and yanked hard, tipping back her head to press a knife to her throat. “Shut up, or I kill you and go back to kill your friend.”

Erin.

Jaw clamped shut, Caesar’s heart sputtered and kicked into high gear. One man against six terrorists was bad enough. But terrorists holding a hostage made it exponentially worse. Especially when the hostage was Erin.

Erin’s struggles ceased. “I’ll go with you. Just leave the other woman alone.”

The man with the knife snorted and pushed her forward, still holding the knife to her neck, his arm clamped around both of hers.

The lead man spoke to the others in Pashto.

With his rough understanding of the language, Caesar gathered they wondered what had happened to their guards.

The men glanced around and called out.

Caesar eased back behind the doorway, swinging his weapon over his shoulder.

A voice that sounded like the man who’d threatened Erin gave orders to search the rooms and find their men.

Footsteps pounded against the polished flooring, headed his way.

Forcing a calm breath, Caesar flattened himself against the wall just inside the waiting room.

One of the men in black stepped through the door, his gun resting in his crooked elbow.

When he’d gotten all the way inside and out of view of the others, Caesar jumped him, wrapped his arm around his neck and slit his throat.

Their struggle drew the attention of the others, and a second man entered the room, his gun in the lead. One glance at the man on the floor and he whipped around, firing his weapon.

Caesar dove, rolled behind some seats and fired back at the man, hitting him square in the chest.

The attacker jerked backward and fell out into the hallway.

Through the doorway poked the barrel of an AK-47.

“Throw down your gun or I kill the woman,” the demand came in stilted English.

“Turn her loose and I might consider it,” he responded through gritted teeth.

“Don’t do it! They’ll kill you!” Erin cried out.

The sound of a struggle and feminine grunts reached Caesar. Blocking out the cries, he had to make a plan. He’d counted six men, two of which were now dead. One of the four remaining held Erin hostage.

The ping of an arriving elevator rang out, followed by the swoosh of doors opening.

The man in charge gave an order that sounded like
Kill him
.

Then the squeak of wheels, more female grunts and pounding against the walls of what sounded like the inside of the elevator and the whisper of sliding doors closing.

Even before the swish of the elevator doors had finished, the barrel of an AK-47 poked around the doorframe of the waiting room. Caesar remained low, edged around an end table and aimed his weapon at the knees of the man who entered.

He fired off several rounds.

The man went down and another dropped down behind the first, levering him upward to use as a human shield.

Caesar tucked his weapon close to his chest and rolled behind a vinyl chair. The shooter fired, the bullets thumping into the back of the furniture, a few hitting the wall over Caesar’s head.

He didn’t have time to fool with the man. The terrorists were getting away with Hassani and would use Erin as their hostage to demand whatever they wanted. And if he didn’t beat them to the first floor, he feared the security forces might shoot first, not realizing Erin was with them.

If he wanted to get to Erin, he had to eliminate the current threat. On the count of three. One…two…Caesar leaped from his position and dove to the left behind another couch, firing off a burst of bullets at the man lying behind the one he’d already felled.

A cry alerted him to the fact he’d hit the guy. How badly was yet to be determined. He tossed a
People
magazine to the right, and rolled to the left as bullets tore through the fluttering pages.

While the man aimed at the magazine, Caesar rose, aimed and pulled the trigger, hitting the man in the head. The room went silent except for the groans of the man whose knees he’d shot out and who now lay trapped beneath the deadweight of his comrade.

Caesar grabbed their weapons, removed the bullets, bolt and magazines, then slung them to the far corner of the room.

The live terrorist spit on him and cursed him in Pashto, dark eyes glaring.

Caesar ignored him, yanking the clothing off his Taliban buddy. He dressed quickly in the dark pants and shirt and covered his head in the ski mask. He used the turban to bind the injured man and gag him. With little time to spare, he slung an AK-47 over his shoulder, tucked the spare magazines in his pocket and ran past the elevator, glancing upward. The light in the display window showed a glowing number two. Why would they have stopped at the second floor? To leave they’d have to go out on the first floor. Unless they were hunkering down and preparing to negotiate their release.

Caesar raced for the stairs and ran down to the second floor. An echoing clang indicated the door being opened on the first floor. Dressed as one of the terrorists, he couldn’t afford to wait around for the MPs to find him in the stairwell. They’d shoot first and sift through bodies later. He glanced through the window of the stairwell door on the second floor. The hallway was empty. Pushing through the doorway, he eased it open and closed it softly behind him.

The click of a door shutting to his left alerted him to movement.

A woman screamed and was immediately quieted.

Following the noise, Caesar tiptoed silently on bare feet toward a corner in the hallway. He glanced up, aware of the mirror positioned high on the wall to allow people from both directions to see if someone was coming around the corner. Before he got close enough to be seen, he could make out a black blur. Probably a guard left to monitor the hallway.

Banking on his dark eyes and dark skin to aid his subterfuge, he stepped into view of the mirror and ran around the corner. Drawing on his elementary knowledge of Pashto, he said what he hoped was, “They come!” forcing urgency into his tone.

The man standing outside a door shouted and pointed his weapon at Caesar.

Caesar didn’t slow, holding his weapon in front of him as if he wasn’t afraid the Taliban man would shoot. When he got close enough, he stopped, and bent over, pretending to breathe hard from running, which wasn’t far from the truth.

The man asked him something, but he didn’t quite catch the wording. When he asked again, Caesar jerked upright, slammed the butt of his weapon into the man’s face so hard, his nose broke. Grabbing his head, Caesar jerked his face down while bringing his knee up sharply.

The man fell unconscious against Caesar.

Catching him before he hit the floor, Caesar eased his body to the ground, dragging him down the hallway.

Behind the door where he stood, a cry rang out. Three terrorists, that he knew of, were holed up in the room with Erin. Wiping the blood from his hands onto the clothing of the man he’d dropped, he straightened and pushed the door open.

Relief filled him at the sight of Erin, standing beside one of her captors.

Inside, he was surrounded by two of the terrorists who immediately lowered their weapons.

Their leader pointed an AK-47 at Erin’s temple.

She held a telephone handset to her ear, her finger hovering over the keypad.

“Tell them we want an ambulance out front now, or we blow up the entire building.”

One of the two men with the leader spoke in short, urgent Pashto.

The leader glared and spoke back sharply.

The man nodded, a smirk curling the corners of his mouth through the ski mask.

Erin’s lips were pulled into a tight line and her face was pale. Her left eye was swollen and turning purple, and her lower lip was cracked and bleeding.

Caesar fought the urge to start shooting and not stop until he’d killed all three of the terrorists for hurting Erin. But he couldn’t. Not until he was certain Erin wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire.

“Tell them!” The leader backhanded her.

Pain shot through
Erin’s head as it snapped around with the force of his hand. She raised her fingers to her cheek, hatred burning deep down. With shaky fingers, she punched in the emergency number and waited for someone to answer on the other end.

When she got the dispatcher, she spoke quickly. “This is Lt. Erin McGee. I’m being held at gunpoint inside the medical center, building 3711. Please connect me with someone with the authority to negotiate my release.” She waited as dispatch connected the call.

“Lt. McGee, this is Colonel Allen, are you okay?”

“I’m okay for now, but I don’t know for how long. Three men are trying to get our prisoner, Hassani Nurabi, to the airport. They’re demanding an ambulance and safe passage for their group of four.” She glanced around at the men. “They wanted me to tell you that they have explosive charges set at various points throughout the hospital, and they will detonate them one at a time, starting in five minutes if they don’t get that ambulance.”

“Tell them we’ll have the ambulance waiting outside in less than three minutes,” Colonel Allen said.

Erin let go of the breath she’d been holding. “I’ll let them know.”

“Lieutenant, stay on the line—

Her captor grabbed the telephone and slammed it onto the cradle.

She sat calmly and repeated what the colonel had told her. “They’re bringing an ambulance around now.”

“Good. You will come with us and care for our leader.” The man glanced at Hassani, still unconscious on the litter. Erin had checked moments earlier for a pulse. He had one, but she didn’t know how long it would last since they’d disconnected his oxygen. So far, he seemed to be breathing on his own.

Her captor’s gaze shifted to the man who’d entered while Erin had been on the phone and he fired off a question at him in Pashto.

The man ducked his head and nodded, muttering something unintelligible.

Something about the way he stood, and the breadth of his shoulders made Erin look twice. For a moment, his gaze met hers. When recognition hit her, she gasped then pressed her lips tight.

Caesar.

The leader stood and asked another question. When the new man still didn’t respond, the other two men leveled their weapons on him.

Heart hammering, Erin knew she had to do something to divert their attention. She flung herself at their leader and poked him in the eyes as hard as she could. The man screamed and staggered backward, arms windmilling and his knees catching against a chair. Seeing him off balanced, all she had to do was plant a hand in the middle of his chest to send him flying over the chair and crashing to the floor.

The terrorists swung from the slouching figure toward Erin.

Caesar plowed into them from the side, hitting the closest one, knocking him into the other. Both tripped over each other and landed flat on their backs, their weapons flying from their grasps.

Caesar kicked their guns out of reach.

Erin landed a boot in their leader’s face. When she reared back and swung at him again, his hand snaked out, hooked her ankle and pulled hard.

She fell backward and hit the floor so hard, her head bounced and the air whooshed out of her lungs.

Her captor rolled on top of her and jammed a knife to her throat. “Move and I kill her.”

“Like hell you will,” Caesar roared. He grabbed the back of the man’s collar and yanked him up off Erin. In one swift swing, he hit him with a hard right to jaw.