Page 169 of One Minute Out

I fight away the frustration and think about my predicament. The large enemy quick reaction force hasn’t attempted another breach of the building, but I know it’s just a matter of minutes before they do.

I hit the transmit key for my radio. “A.J. What do you see out there?”

The team sniper responds quickly. “I can only see the back of the property. The QRF went around to the front three minutes ago.”

I tap the push-to-talk button again. “Carl, say status.”

“Oil leak is dealt with. Not too bad. This bird will fly, but I won’t want to do much in the way of acrobatics.”

Rodney says what I’m thinking now. “Harry, there are a lot of ways into this building. If fifteen or twenty guys hit in a coordinated fashion, the three of us are gonna get our asses overrun.”

He’s right, of course. We can’t hold back that entire force if they come hard from different directions.

I decide to call Talyssa to tell her that finding Roxana and the Director is her responsibility, because I’m not making it out of here alive.

But before I do, a statuesque blond woman in an evening gown pulls on the torn arm of my tunic. “You think you men are the only ones who can fight?”

I don’t have time for this. “What are you talking about?”

“I can fight, too.”

She looks like a twenty-year-old fashion model, and I discount her immediately. “I love the spirit, miss, but those guys out there are gonna be Mexican cartel, and they know how to handle their weapons.”

“So do I.”

Incredulous, I say, “You can shoot an M4?”

“I’ve never tried.”

I start to turn away. “Yeah, let us handle—”

“But I can shoot your AK. I spent two years in the Ukrainian army.”

I turn back to her, astonishment evident on my face. “Doing what?”

“Infantry.”

Kareem hears this. “No shit?”

She looks into my eyes and lifts her chin. “I can handle that rifle on your chest, but you won’t let me because you men are too proud to—”

I pull the sling over my head, removing the Kalashnikov from my body. “You’ve got me all wrong, sister. I couldn’t be happier you want to fight. Hell, I’ll let you run this shit.” I hand the weapon to her.

She takes it, slings it around her neck, drops the mag to check the ammo, and then clicks it back into place. I look around to the nine other women up here at the top of the stairs. “You guys got any handy skills?”

Three hands rise. A woman tells me she spent two years in the Polish air force, where she learned basic firearms handling. Another, the sixteen-year-old I found hiding in the grotto, says her father is Bulgarian police and she’s probably shot a pistol as much as I have.

She’s wrong, but her attitude is right, so I pass her my Glock.

Other women head off to pick up weapons and ammo from dead men on this floor, and soon one brings me an AR-15 along with two extra magazines to replace the weapon I handed off to the tall Ukrainian. Rodney and I position our four new shooters behind cover facing both wings, and Kareem shows a few more how to handle guns while the first three keep watch down the stairs.

The rest drag furniture out of bedrooms, sliding it across the floor. A dresser, a table, a TV stand: it’s more concealment than it is cover, but it’s something, and Rodney helps them line it all up on the stairs to provide cover from below.

I radio A.J. and tell him I have nine guns in the fight now, and he responds by letting me know he’s moving to Carl and the helo. It’s the right call to shut down the sniper’s hide at the back of the property, and for the two of them to link up. We won’t be flying thirteen people out of here with a four-seater helicopter, but when the time comes, one more low-and-fast pass with the helo and a rifle may help disrupt the enemy attack.

It takes the cartel boys a few minutes to plan their second wave, but they do a decent job of it. First the power goes out on the property, and then the front door opens again, while the shooting simultaneously begins from both hallways.

But the enemy’s advantage is greatly decreased by the fact that they have three narrow attack points, and we have three weapons pointed at each one. All nine of us fire like mad, dumping so many rounds downrange that it overwhelms the two or three men who can fit abreast at each attack vector.

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