What about those inside?
He flipped switches to the interior cameras. Many of them were also down, but a few screens showed views of the mansion. Smoke obscured several of the cameras, but he caught sight of a large form shambling down a staircase from the third level.
Kowalski...
The view also showed what awaited him below.
Oh, no...
10:28P.M.
Kowalski leaned a large palm on the wall, struggling to stay upright. He clutched his Desert Eagle in his other hand, but it felt like an anchor. His vision remained watery. His hearing was muffled, as if he had been dropped down a well.
And I almost was.
While spying upon the neighboring apartment building, he had spotted the smoky blast from an RPG launcher. As the grenade rocketed his way, he dove for cover. Fire and glass exploded behind him, blowing out all the windows along this side of the embassy. The blast threw him hard against the wall. Between the concussion of the detonation and the blow to his head, he passed out for several breaths. The world had gone dark, then returned, all muted and wobbly.
He had gained his feet and stumbled away from the spreading fires, intent to join the others and, if possible, get a little payback.
As he descended, he rubbed blood from an eye, squinting through the stinging smoke. The arm holding up the Desert Eagle slowly sank.
Still, he noted the smoke stir near the bottom of the steps. He caught the glimpse of a figure in body armor. He fired before the assailant came fully into view. His Desert Eagle’s fifty-cal rounds needed little precision. It was a weapon meant to inflict maximum damage.
The weapon blasted and bucked in his hand.
The body below got knocked back, wafting the smoke enough to reveal the ruins of a successful headshot.
Unfortunately, the fierce recoil of his handgun ripped the weapon from his weakened fingers. The Eagle fell and toppled down the steps—landing at the toes of a second man in black armor who appeared from the stairwell’s opposite side.
An assault rifle pointed up the steps.
Kowalski had nowhere to go.
He raised his empty hands and flipped the guy two birds.
“Screw you.”
The bastard savored his kill. “Nyet, screw—”
A large shadow struck the man from the side, taking him down hard. A bloodcurdling cry erupted from him. The shadow thrashed atop him, ripping into his throat until that scream became a gurgle, then silence.
“RELEASE,” came a familiar command.
Kowalski stumbled down the rest of the steps to meet Tucker. Kane leaped off the dead man, tossing his furry head, shaking blood from his muzzle. Behind him, Elle Stutt stayed close, her eyes huge. Marco kept tight to her side.
Kowalski struggled to clear his addled head. “What’re you—”
“They’ve got the exits covered on the first floor,” Tucker warned. “With heavy fighting. But there’s a second-story balcony on the side of the building, over an alley, with a fire escape leading down. This way.”
Tucker snatched up the dead man’s rifle and headed off.
Kowalski hurried to follow, stopping to collect his pistol from the floor.
After crisscrossing several passageways, they reached a set of French doors leading out to an iron balcony. Kowalski watched the hall behind them, while Tucker searched below.
“Looks clear at the moment,” he whispered.
“Let’s hope we get more than a moment,” Kowalski muttered.
