Page 11 of Don't Look Back

Her terror was compounded this time. She wasn’t just scared for herself. Rand intended to take on a man armed with a freaking machine gun. Sure, he was a SEAL, but he wasn’t wearing body armor, and he didn’t have a gun.

She wasn’t foolish enough to think she could help him, but she felt cowardly hiding under a desk while he was exposed.

Another burst of gunfire sounded from below. Was anyone else in the building? Was he hunting someone in particular, or just seeking random victims?

For all she knew, there were other people hiding in nearby cubicles.

Her original flight to Malta would have landed an hour ago. Right now, she’d be at baggage claim, or maybe stuck in the passport control line.

Her precious passport. A document she’d wanted since she was eight years old and her father took off on yet another trip to Europe, leaving her and her mother behind.

When she was sixteen, she’d asked her mother if her dad had another family—and she didn’t mean the relatives who lived in a reunified Berlin that he’d supposedly visited.

Her mom had assured her that her father was faithful, making the statement with complete conviction. It had surprised Kira when she found her dad’s collection of passport books. He had nearly as many stamps for Malta as he did Germany. Maybe his other family was in Malta.

With both parents now dead, learning the truth wouldn’t hurt anyone except herself. The other papers she found didn’t confirm or deny the existence of another family. But they raised other questions.

Would she make it to Malta and learn her father’s secrets? Or was she destined to die in violence after all?

Would Rand, a man who must have been sent on dozens of ops as commander of a SEAL team, die here too? After all his years of service, would he end up the random victim of a homegrown terrorist?

The tango was in the hallway, just outside the door. His steps were slow and deliberate. He wanted to be heard. Wanted to be feared.

That’s what the bursts of machine gun fire were about. Attention.

Rand wouldn’t be surprised if the guy wasn’t military at all. A civilian playing dress-up. If he had a civilian Navy ID, he’d have base access and could pass through security no problem, then change into a borrowed uniform. They only randomly searched vehicles.

The door swung open, and the muzzle of an M4 carbine poked through. A singsong voice rang out, and Rand’s entire body went cold.

“Kiiiirrraa. Oh, Kiiirrrrra. Come out come out wherever you are…”

Any hope this was random was lost. The guy was after Kira.

His phone line was open, and the team at Naval Special Warfare Command—NSWC—was listening. He hoped the mic had picked up the singsong words, because he couldn’t risk verbally updating his commanders.

In theory, he was sitting tight behind a bank of file cabinets, waiting for armed SEALs to storm the building. He was only supposed to engage if he lost the first round of hide-and-seek. But no way would he let the guy get near Kira. Especially now that it was confirmed she was the target.

“Kiiirrrrrraahhh. Where arrrrre you?”

Another blast of gunfire. Ceiling tiles rained down in the center of the room, not far from where Kira hid.

The sound faded, replaced by footsteps. He was moving along the wide side aisle that ran between windows and cubicles.

Kira didn’t make a peep of sound when she must be terrified.The shooter had called her name.

She wasn’t trained for this.

The shooter walked along the aisle that passed Rand’s position. In addition to the scissors, he’d found an obsidian paperweight the size of a baseball, but with an edge. It looked like an artifact Morgan had shown him back in Djibouti, but shiny black instead of basalt.

Next, he quickly liberated the wheeled base from an office chair. It might make for a decent decoy in the uncarpeted aisle, but it wouldn’t roll straight for any distance. He’d have to be damn close before Rand launched it. Nearly as close as he’d have to be to use the scissors or rock.

Rand’s body was coiled, waiting for the gunman’s approach. Just like on most ops, surprise was on his side. No special operators were supposed to attend the training. The guy probably thought Kira was alone, or with her NAVFAC civilian base sponsor.

The tap of his steps grew steadily closer. Now Rand could hear the clink of the rifle as the stock bumped the spare magazines he probably wore in pouches around his waist.

The guy didn’t move with stealth. He either wasn’t trained or didn’t care. Probably both.

“Kiiirrraaaaaa.”

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