Brett Battles: The Collected

Quinn and Nate immediately ran after him. As they neared the corner, they heard a grunt and a thud. Then running feet, heavy and fast.

They sprinted the rest of the way to the end, and whipped around the corner, their guns ready.

Peter lay motionless on the ground about halfway between the corner and the far door, but Janus was gone. They raced over and knelt down. Quinn checked Peter’s pulse.

“He’s alive,” he said.

Nate glanced at the hallway beyond them. “Janus can get to the top of the wall that way. If he does, he’ll warn everyone. That could be a problem.” He stood up. “I’m going after him.”

“I’ll be right behind you.”

With a nod, Nate took off.

Quinn put Peter over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold, lugged him back to the others, and transferred him to Daeng’s shoulder.

“Get the others out,” he said. “Take everyone to the room downstairs and lock yourselves in. Nate and I are on cleanup.”

“You two can’t do it alone,” Orlando said.

“If we need help, I’ll let you know.” He took off down the hall.

Nate knew there was no way he would catch Janus in time. The son of a bitch had too much of a head start, but he had to try.

He grabbed the wall just before he reached the stairs so he could propel himself around the corner and up. The around-the-corner part worked. The up, not so much.

Janus was standing three steps above him, waiting. Nate smashed into the man’s chest and fell back onto the ground, his gun skittering off to the side.

The welts on his back screamed again, but he ignored them.

Janus jumped down, his feet heading straight for Nate’s ribs. As Nate rolled to the side, Janus kicked out in an attempt to change direction, but Nate slammed his elbow back, hitting the big man in the calf.

Janus toppled over, his arm slamming the stone floor with a giant thwack . As the big man lay there, momentarily stunned, Nate popped up onto his feet and scanned the ground for his gun. He tensed when he finally spotted it five feet to Janus’s right. All Janus had to do was turn his head to see it, then reach out and grab the barrel.

“Get up!” he yelled at his former tormentor, egging him on. “What are you, scared of me?”

Focus returned to Janus’s face. His gaze narrowed, and he pushed himself up. “You big problem.”

Nate moved to his right. “Yeah, I am.”

Countering him, Janus went left. Perfect.

“I take care of problems,” Janus said. “That is my specialty.”

“Well, you haven’t taken care of this problem yet, have you?”

“No. But I am not done yet.”

The gun was only a few feet behind Nate now. If Janus had seen it, there had been no indication.

“I don’t know. You seem kind of done to me.”

Janus smiled. “You try to provoke. I provoke not so easy.”

Nate took a half step backward. “It was worth a try, wasn’t it?”

“Trying is for the weak. I never try. I do.”

“I don’t believe that’s how the quote goes,” Nate said as he slid back a little more.

“What?”

“Yoda.”

“Huh?”

Nate’s foot touched the end of the barrel. “Never mind.”

What he really needed was for Janus to take a swing at him, so he could duck down and grab the gun without being obvious. If Janus knew what he was doing, he could put a stop to it before Nate would be able to get the muzzle trained on him.

“You problem. But now I make you not.”

Nate urged him forward with a Bruce Lee-style wave of his fingers.

Instead of taking a swing at him, though, Janus charged, roaring. Nate dropped anyway, one hand hugging his chest to his knees, while the other searched for the gun. As his fingertips touched the suppressor, Janus’s massive thigh whacked into his shoulder.

Nate tumbled onto his side, the gun under him and digging into his ribcage. Janus stumbled over him, then twisted back around and lashed out with his foot. His instep connected with the rear of Nate’s skull, sending a shockwave of blinding pain through Nate’s head.

“What’s going on down here?” The voice came from behind them somewhere.

Nate forced his eyes open. A soldier was standing near the base of the stairs. Nate guessed he was one of the watchmen from the wall.

“Help me with him,” Janus said.

“Yes, sir,” the man said.

The moment Janus looked toward the other man, Nate wrapped his hand around the grip of the gun and yanked it out from under him. The soldier was the first in his sights. He pulled the trigger and his bullet hit center mass, neutralizing Janus’s would-be helper.

Janus twisted around and tried to grab the gun from him, turning Nate’s hand back and forth, but Nate wouldn’t let go. When the barrel started arcing toward Janus, Nate let off another shot.

Janus yelled angrily as a splotch of blood appeared in his upper right chest. He made another try for the gun, and Nate pulled the trigger again. This time the bullet only grazed the other man’s ear.

Someone was running down the hall from the direction of the cells. Janus looked over, shoved himself away from Nate, and sprinted for the stairs. Nate got off another shot just before Janus moved up out of sight, but missed.

As he started to stand, Quinn ran up and held out a hand. “Here.”

Back to his feet, Nate said, “He’s mine.”

“I know where Harris is,” Daeng told Orlando.

They had just finished moving everyone to the room at the bottom of the wall. The three op agents were in pretty bad shape, but were at least able to walk. Peter, on the other hand, was still unconscious and had to be carried, though he was showing signs of coming out of it.

“What about Romero?” she asked.

“Him, I’m not sure, but he’s probably in the same area.”

She thought for a moment. Her concern was that while Quinn and Nate went after Janus, Harris and Romero might escape.

“I don’t want them to get away,” she said.

“No. That would not make me happy.”

She looked around the room. If the men they’d just rescued were civilians, no way would she and Daeng leave them. But they weren’t. They were professionals. Damaged professionals, yes, but that didn’t mean they’d forgotten how to fight.

She pointed at the dark-haired man sitting on the floor next to Peter. “You. Lanier, right?”

He looked over. “Yeah.”

“Think you can handle a gun?”

“I’m not dead, am I?” he said.

Quinn was five steps from the top, Nate just in front of him, when they heard Janus yell.

“Intruders inside! Coming up the stairs now. They have taken the prisoners! Someone call back men who are out searching!” Then, not quite as loudly as before, he said, “Give me your gun.”

Son of a bitch! It was exactly what they wanted to avoid.

At the top of the stairs were a stone room with two windows and an open doorway on either side. Through the far doorway, Quinn could see Janus and four other men on top of the wall. Janus had a rifle, taken, no doubt, from the now unarmed man standing behind him.

The rifle was trained on the stone room, and as soon as Quinn and Nate stepped out of the shadows of the staircase, it barked to life.

The bullet whizzed between the two of them, sending them both diving to the side. They crawled through the room to either edge of the outside door.

There were several more shots, the bullets smashing into the building, both outside the room and in.

Quinn motioned for Nate to stay where he was. He pointed at himself and the window that overlooked the beach. Next, he pointed at Nate and mimicked shooting.

Nate gave a nod.

“On my signal,” Quinn mouthed. He went over to the window and looked out. There wasn’t much of a ledge there, but it was enough.