Page 58 of Azrael

“You good to continue?”Samurai asked, his voice betraying no emotion though his eyes lingered on the gash across my cheek.

“I’m fine,” I replied, moving to unlock the door.We all stepped inside, letting it shut behind us.“What’s the plan?”

Stripes straightened up, his face set in hard lines.His Russian accent thickened as it always did before violence.“We have confirmation Mazida is still alive.Security cameras show seven guards on rotation, three at entrance points, four patrolling interior.But if Eli keeps his word…”

“And if he doesn’t?”I asked.

“Basement level, as your target confirmed.Single stairwell access, reinforced door.They are not expecting us to know location, but after tonight’s activities, they will be on high alert.”

“Breaching charges are ready,” Samurai said.“I was hoping we wouldn’t need them but prepared just in case.I only wish we had more men.”

“Any word from Eli?”

“Nyet.”

“Extraction plan?”I asked.If Eli wasn’t going to help us like he’d said, then we’d handle it on our own.Either way, we were getting her out of there, and all of us were going home.Now.

Stripes allowed himself a small, grim smile.“My old Bratva connections have arranged a private jet at the municipal airstrip.Once we have Mazida, we fly back to the US.”

I raised an eyebrow.“The Bratva is helping us again?What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” Stripes replied.“More old debts being repaid.Plus, these men who took Mazida -- they stepped on Bratva toes too.Enemy of my enemy,da?”

Preparations moved quickly after that.I quickly tended my wounds, changed my clothes, and donned tactical gear, strapping on a Kevlar vest that pressed painfully against my injured ribs.Fresh magazines for my pistol, extra knife, flashlight, zip ties -- the tools of extraction rather than assassination.

Forty minutes later, we were in position.The warehouse loomed against the night sky, a hulking shadow punctuated by security lights around its perimeter.From our position, I could see two guards patrolling the fence line, automatic rifles slung over their shoulders.

Samurai’s gaze held mine.“On my mark.Three.Two.One.Execute.”

Our SUV lurched forward, accelerating toward the chain-link fence.The guards spotted us too late, raising their weapons as our vehicle crashed through the barrier with a metallic scream.We were inside the perimeter.Thank God for armored vehicles!Whoever had procured this one for us had saved our asses.

Everything moved with practiced precision after that.I was out of the vehicle before it fully stopped, dropping the first guard with a double-tap to the chest while Samurai took down the second.Stripes covered our flank as we approached the main entrance.

I pressed explosives against the door, then backed off.Samurai nodded, and I pressed the detonator.The door blew inward with a concussive blast that left my ears ringing.

We moved through the smoke and debris, weapons up, communicating with hand signals.The interior was industrial -- concrete floors, exposed pipes, the lingering smell of fish processing still detectable beneath the newer scents of gun oil and cigarettes.An alarm began to wail, red emergency lights casting everything in a bloody glow.

The first resistance came at the intersection of two corridors -- a guard emerging from a side room, eyes wide with surprise.I dropped him before he could raise his weapon, the suppressed shots making dull thwacking sounds that were nearly lost beneath the alarm.

“Stairwell, twenty meters ahead,” Stripes murmured, gesturing with his weapon.

We moved forward, encountering two more guards who put up more of a fight.Bullets pinged off metal pipes above our heads as we took cover.Samurai signaled, and I laid down covering fire while he flanked their position.I heard rather than saw the resulting struggle -- grunts, a wet gurgling sound, then silence.

“Clear,” Samurai’s voice rang out.

The stairwell door was locked -- a heavy steel affair with a keypad.

“Allow me,” Stripes said, kneeling to examine the lock.From his pack, he produced a small electronic device that he attached to the keypad.Numbers flickered across its display for several seconds before it beeped.The lock disengaged with an audible click.“Thank Shade for this one.He sent me prepared for anything.”

“We have ten minutes, max.After that, we’ll likely be dealing with police.”

I took point down the stairs, sweeping each corner with my weapon.The basement level was cooler, the air heavy with moisture and the metallic scent of blood.A single corridor stretched before us, four doors visible -- two on each side.

A guard appeared at the far end, shouting into a radio.My shot took him in the throat, cutting off his warning mid-sentence.We moved quickly down the corridor, checking each room.The first contained supplies, the second empty.The third held a makeshift torture chamber -- a chair with restraints, a table of implements that made even my stomach turn.Blood spattered the floor and walls, some of it fresh.

The final door was reinforced steel with another electronic lock.Stripes went to work while Samurai and I covered the corridor.

“Got it,” Stripes whispered as the lock disengaged.

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