Ramirez nodded. He looked up as the door to the command center opened. “You might as well get inside the trailer, out of the cold.”
She glanced back at the terminal. She wanted to be ready if Bran needed her, ready for Hallie and Ty and Chris and little Sarah. Unconsciously, her hand slid down to her cell phone. “I’ll go inside in a minute.”
The third man was shorter than the other two, and older, his beard longer. Bran watched him prowling the corridor, AK-47 strapped to his chest. He opened the door to an equipment room, disappeared inside, and reappeared seconds later. Bran eased back into the shadows, waiting for his prey, patient, listening, hearing the shuffle-glide of his feet on the concrete floor.
Bran counted the seconds, the cadence of the footfalls, calculating the time and distance to his arrival. His quarry paused, carefully checking for anyone who might be hiding. Anyone who might pose a threat.
Come on...come to Papa. He was close now. Bran could hear him breathing. He was nervous. His movements no longer rhythmical, but jerky, uncertain. He had figured it out, knew someone was there, behind a false wall that disguised an air-conditioning unit. The man stopped to aim his rifle.
Bran fired. Three short bursts, chest-high, right through the wall. He stepped into the passage, saw the man lying on the floor but still breathing, finished the job with another short burst. Then he moved on.
Three terrorists down. SWAT could enter through the lower level, spread out and make their way to various metal stairs leading up to the gate level, giving them at least three solid approaches.
He took out his phone to call Ramirez, but it vibrated before he had time to press the contact button.
Ty. “They’re getting antsy. Haven’t been able to reach the three men downstairs.”
“They’re enjoying their seventy-two virgins.”
Ty grunted his approval. “They’re sending a man down to check. He’s heading for the stairs across from me, next to gate 47.”
“Got it.” Bran headed for the stairs next to the supply elevator he figured would be closest to the gate.
This guy wouldn’t be as easy as the others. He’d be wary, ready for danger. Adrenaline pulsing. Anticipating the stalk. Eager for the kill.
Which could all be used against him. Bran waited as close as he could get to the bottom of the stairs, just a few feet away, out of sight around the first corner. His prey would just be gearing up, not quite ready for the hunt to begin.
Definitely not ready for it to end.
Footsteps rang on the metal stairs. He counted them down,three, two, one. Bran hit him like a tank crashing into a concrete barrier, body-slamming him into the wall, headbutting, plowing a fist into his ribs, breaking at least three. The guy’s pretty face hit the floor, caving in one of his cheekbones and knocking him unconscious. Bran finished him with the knife, grabbed the terrorist’s cell phone, and faded away.
Sergeant Ramirez strode away from his men, back to where Jessie stood near the stairs to the command center, her hands shoved into the pockets of her puffy jacket.
“You were right,” he said. “Garrett took out four of the terrorists—half what they had to start with. He’s cleared a way for us to get inside the terminal. We’re dispatching men now.”
Her heart was beating too fast. She could hardly breathe. She took a deep breath and tried to control the fear squeezing her lungs.
“So you’re going in?”
“We’re moving into position. Nazari is holding on to a cell phone set to detonate the bombs if the Pentagon doesn’t agree to his terms. Even if a sniper takes him out, he might have time to hit the send button and the bombs could explode.”
Fear trembled through her, came out as a breath of white in the freezing air. So many lives at stake, hundreds of them. Ty and Hallie and the children. Brandon. Her heart squeezed. “What are you going to do?”
“We’re setting up a signal that can block cell service for a mile in any direction.” Ramirez’s jaw hardened. “Nazari can hit the button, but the signal won’t go through.”
“How long will that take?”
“They’re working on it.” He looked at her hard. “You believe in God?”
She managed to nod.
“You might ask for a little help. We’ll need all we can get to make this work.”
Ramirez strode away, and Jessie started praying.
Using the tail of his Henley to muffle his voice, Bran hit the call button on the terrorist’s phone, putting him in contact with whoever picked up on the other end.
“The phones do not work well down here,” he said in Arabic, tapping the cell and distorting the words so his voice couldn’t be identified. “I will check, make sure there are no problems.”
