Page 3 of Ford

Nez was coming in with Lt. Gen. Shanin. “We have three targets down here. Two children evac-ed.”

“I have one hostage,” said Trini.

“Add three more,” Sonny said.

A scream alerted Ford, and he caught sight of a girl dressed in the blue uniform of the school being dragged into another hallway by a man wearing a black and white keffiyeh.

That left five hostages still at large, and three Tangos, one of them in Ford’s sights. “I have a squirter going out the back of the building. I’m on him.”

“Right behind you, Delta Three,” said Kenny C.

Ford headed toward the gap, eyeing the corridor. He found it empty. “Moving,” he said.

“Move,” answered Kenny behind him.

Ford proceeded through the hole, weapon out, fighting for vision through the smoke. “What do you see, HQ?”

“Two bodies, fifteen feet ahead of you and still moving down the hallway,” came Berkowitz’s voice.

Ford slammed against the wall as bullets peppered past him.

Kenny fired back, secured behind some fallen rubble. “Go!”

Ford sprinted to an open doorway and found himself inside a science room. Another door led to the next room.

More shots spiraled down the hall, and then shouts.

“I’m pinned down, Marsh,” Kenny said. “I’ve got extra Tangos on my six.”

“Delta Six and Delta Four, take out those targets,” Nez said, sending Sonny and Trini back into the fight. “We found four more children.”

That left just the one—and Ford wasn’t letting her die at the hands of some jihadist.

He headed to the door and eased it open. The firefight in the hallway had the attention of the man who’d backed into the next room—also a science room given the lab desks and Bunsen burners.

The hostage taker had shoved the frightened girl against the wall, his fist to her chest, and was firing one-handed down the hallway.

Aim small, miss small. Ford sighted him, pulled the trigger.

The terrorist slammed against the frame of the door and collapsed as the little girl screamed.

Ford crossed the room in seconds and pulled her up, against him, away from the dead man.

“You’re going to be okay.”

She was crying, of course. Big brown eyes, long black hair, and she looked at him with so much hope and awe and fear that the old wounds just broke open and poured out.

I’ll save you, RJ!

Not now. He shook the past away and pulled the little girl tighter against his body armor.

Shouts and gunfire burst from the hallway.

“What’s your name?”

“Anastasia.”

“Okay, Anastasia, get behind me. And don’t move.” Because he hadn’t a clue how he was going to get her out of here.

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