Dale Brown - Act of War

“Two…no, three persons getting out,” Falcone reported. Jason had switched back to his own cameras so he could continue observing the main entrance to the refinery. “Two of them are armed. I’ll get ’em.”

“Rat Nine, can you assist?” Jason radioed.

“A-firm,” the driver on the westernmost dune buggy responded.

Jason switched back to the view from Falcone’s cameras. He saw the first two persons getting out…and was stunned to see a man virtually dragging another person with him with his left arm, while holding what appeared to be an AK-74 assault rifle in his right. Just as he was thinking about asking Falcone to zoom in on the two, that’s exactly what he did. “Looks like this butthead’s trying to take a hostage with him,” Falcone radioed. “Looks like a woman. That’s not nice. I’m moving in.”

Jason switched the images from Falcone’s camera back and forth to his own cameras so he could maintain watch on both. The woman clearly didn’t want to go with the guy, but she appeared to be stunned or woozy or something…no, he saw, she was handcuffed and manacled. “Falcon…”

“I got him, Jason,” Falcone responded. “Looks to me like she’s a hostage. Fucker. I’ll teach him to take a woman hostage.”

“Don’t forget about the third guy,” Jason reminded him. “Let’s have a look at him.”

“Rog.” Falcone zoomed his camera out and turned toward the stricken vehicle…

…just as the third terrorist fired what appeared to be a rocket-propelled grenade or TOW missile at Falcone! The missile flared; Jason saw a streak of fire, and then the camera went blank. “Falcon!” Jason cried. “Rat Nine, Rat Nine, what happened?”

“I…I’m okay, Jason,” Falcone murmured. “I’m…oh, crap, that hurt…”

“We got ’em, TALON One,” the driver of the westernmost dune buggy radioed. They had opened fire on the assailant with their Bushmaster automatic grenade launcher, peppering the terrorist with half a dozen high-explosive projectiles from short range. The terrorist was bracketed with explosions and was last seen flying through the air and landing several meters away in a blackened, smoking lump. “Splash one tango.”

“Don’t kill the other ones!” Jason shouted. “I’m after them! Check on CID Three.” Jason took off running to the west at full speed.

On the western flank of the refinery complex there was an access road, a stretch of sand and dirt used by the construction crews, a highway, and then the beginnings of temporary trailer housing for the refinery workers. By the time Jason ran over there, the two escapees had made it to the trailer area. “Ari, I need a Goose overhead my location,” Jason said. “They’re in the housing area.”

“Roger, on the way,” Ariadna responded. “It’ll be about two to three minutes.”

That was going to be way too long. Jason started running through the closely packed trailers, dodging around knots of onlookers who had come out of their homes to watch the spectacular explosion at the refinery. “Ana badawwer ‘ala muktal aqliyyan. I am looking for a terrorist and his captive,” Jason said in Arabic in a loud electronic voice. “Did anyone run through here with a captive in handcuffs?” People started either running away or pointing in all directions. Jason gave up and ran down another street, asking the next group of people he saw.

“Jason, I’m picking up a vehicle, traveling west at high speed about fifty meters west of you,” Ariadna radioed.

“It’s the only lead I’ve got. I’m on it.” Jason ran, following Ariadna’s directions. After crossing another highway, he found himself in a mostly business district, with dozens of small shops and restaurants, then another wide boulevard, and finally at the edge of the Giza necropolis itself. The floodlights were still on the Sphinx and Great Pyramids, creating an otherworldly image against the pitch-black Egyptian night sky. Hundreds of tourists and residents pointed at Jason in wonderment; a few screamed, a few started clapping, thinking he was part of some street show; others threw fruit or rocks at him. Traffic started backing up as drivers stopped to stare.

“Got him!” Ari radioed. “He’s on foot, thirty meters northwest of you!”

Jason leaped across the boulevard over the stopped cars, narrowly missing tourists on the other side where he landed, and started running across the excavation sites and monuments in the necropolis. He heard gunshots and saw the terrorist right in front of the Temple of the Great Sphinx, still dragging his hostage, and two police officers writhing in pain on the ground. Jason leaped over an excavation, took three large steps, and leaped again—right in front of the fleeing terrorist. Gennadyi Boroshev’s face was illuminated by the reflection of the spotlights shining on the face of the Sphinx.

“Ja ub’ju ee, esli Vy budete dvigati’sja!” the terrorist screamed in Russian. “I’ll kill her if you move!” He pointed the muzzle of his AK-74 at his hostage…

…who was, Jason saw with complete surprise, Kristen Skyy! “Jason!” she shouted. “Thank God you’re here!”

“I’m here, Kristen,” Jason said. “Stay calm. I’ll get you out of this.”

“I’ll kill her!” Gennadyi Boroshev shouted, his eyes wide in fear, his chest heaving from the long run. “Stay away from me or I’ll blow her brains out!”

“Jason…”

“Put away your weapon,” Boroshev ordered. “Now!”

“Don’t do it, Jason,” Kristen said. “Kill this bastard!” But Jason let his Bushmaster grenade launcher backpack detach itself and clatter to the ground.

“Vy ne mozhete ubezhat’,” Jason said in Russian. “You can’t escape.”

“Oh yes, I will,” Boroshev said. “This is the famous Kristen Skyy. The world loves her. She will die if you do not let me go, and the world will hate you. Now back away, and tell all those other police officers to back away too. I want a police car and driver to take me wherever I want to go. When I’m safe, I’ll release her.”

“He can’t release me, Jason,” Kristen said. “I know too much.”

“You! Get out of that thing!” Boroshev ordered. “Out!”

“Don’t do it, Jason,” Kristen said. “He’ll kill all of us if you do!”

“Zakrytyj!” he shouted. “Shut up! Get out now or she dies!”

“Kill him, Jason!” Kristen screamed.

The next few seconds were a blur. Several Egyptian General Security Forces and Cairo police officers shouted warnings, shining flashlights at Boroshev and Jason, covering both with pistols and automatic rifles. Boroshev shouted something in Arabic and tried to turn Kristen around so he could use her body to shield his…

…but he half-stumbled on a piece of limestone. At that moment, Kristen twisted her body to the left, pushing Boroshev in the same direction he was already stumbling…

…and at the same time the GSF and Cairo police officers opened fire. Boroshev screamed as the bullets plowed into his body…

He pulled the trigger of his AK-74 as he fell. Kristen Skyy’s hair flew as if blown by a sudden gust of wind, and the muzzle flash froze her face in a terrifying mask of surprise as if caught by a strobe light.

“Kristen!” Jason shouted. He was out of the CID unit within seconds and by her side. He pulled off his T-shirt and pressed it against the side of her head, but he knew there was nothing he could do.

Her lips were moving, and he stooped closer, putting his ear to her lips. He heard the words, heard something…and then felt her last breath on his face.

Jason held her close to him, oblivious to the growing throng of police and civilian onlookers, oblivious to the majesty of the Sphinx right over his left shoulder. He didn’t move—couldn’t move—even after several Task Force TALON dune buggies arrived to help clear the crowds away. He didn’t move until Ray Jefferson himself arrived and held Kristen so Jason could climb inside CID One. After he did, he lifted her up himself as carefully as he could and strode through the crowds, heading east again toward their rendezvous point.