Page 59 of Azrael

Samurai took a deep breath, then nodded.I pushed the door open, weapon raised, and stepped inside.

The room was small, concrete on all sides, illuminated by a single bare bulb.In the center sat Mazida Quadir, bound to a metal chair.Her face was barely recognizable beneath the bruising and dried blood.Her clothes were torn and stained.Despite everything, her eyes remained defiant as she looked up at our entrance.

“Took you long enough,” she rasped, her voice cracking a little.

Stripes moved past me, his face softening as he knelt before her.“Mazida.We’ve come to take you home.”He spoke gently, as if to a child, while his hands worked quickly to free her from her restraints.

“How did you know we’re here to rescue you?”I asked.

She snorted.“Three men: Russian, Japanese, and Middle Eastern.You’re clearly not from here.Otherwise, the three of you wouldn’t be working together, much less breaking into this room.”

I stood watch at the door while Samurai assisted Stripes.Behind me, I could hear Mazida’s sharp intake of breath as they helped her stand, the muffled sound of pain she tried to suppress.

“Can you walk?”Samurai asked.

“If it gets me out of here, I could fly,” she answered, though her voice wavered with the effort.

I checked the corridor.“Clear for now, but we need to move fast.”

Stripes supported Mazida on one side, Samurai on the other.Her legs threatened to buckle with each step, but determination kept her moving.I took point as we retraced our steps to the stairwell.

Sirens were closing in on our location, and I quickly altered course, moving toward an emergency exit.Behind us, the sound of boots on the stairwell announced the arrival of more guards.I dropped back, stepping behind a concrete pillar.

“Go,” I told the others.“I’ll cover.”

The first guard appeared in the corridor, and I dropped him with a headshot.A second followed, more cautious, firing wildly in my direction.Bullets chipped concrete near my position, sending fragments stinging against my cheek.I waited for a pause in his fire, then leaned out and put two rounds center mass.

I caught up to the others at the emergency exit.Samurai was working on the alarm system, trying to prevent it from triggering when we opened the door.Mazida had slumped against Stripes, her strength failing.

“Almost got it,” Samurai muttered, sweat beading on his forehead as he spliced wires.The door clicked.“Done.”

Samurai pushed the door open carefully, scanning the exterior.“Clear.Vehicles in position fifty yards south.”

We emerged into the cool night air, moving as quickly as Mazida’s condition would allow.I could hear sirens in the distance, see flashing lights reflected against nearby buildings.The police perimeter was closing in.

“There!”Samurai pointed to where two motorcycles and a van waited in the shadows of a loading dock.“Looks like Eli at least somewhat came through for us.”

I hoped like hell it was Eli.If not, I wasn’t sure who would be helping us.Had Stripes told him where we’d be?I wasn’t going to stop to ask questions.We needed to get the hell out of this country.

We were thirty yards from the vehicles when a spotlight caught us, the harsh beam momentarily blinding.A loudspeaker crackled to life, the man speaking in a language I barely remembered from my childhood.

“What the fuck did he say?”Samurai asked.

“Police.Stop where you are.”My brow furrowed.“At least I think that was it.”

Instead, we ran.Bullets pinged off the concrete around us as officers opened fire.I returned fire, not aiming to hit but to force them to cover, buying precious seconds.We reached the vehicles, Samurai and Stripes carefully loading Mazida into the van.

“Go!”Samurai ordered.“We’ll rendezvous at the airstrip.”

I hesitated, not wanting to leave them.

“Now, Azrael,” Stripes snapped, his accent thicker than ever.“We need all vehicles moving to split pursuit.”

I nodded, jumping onto one of the motorcycles.Samurai took the other.We roared away in different directions as the van peeled out, drawing the majority of the police pursuit.I cut through back alleys and service roads, losing the single patrol car that attempted to follow me.

Twenty minutes later, I arrived at the small municipal airstrip on the outskirts of town.A sleek private jet sat on the tarmac, engines already running, stairs deployed.Samurai arrived shortly after me, his motorcycle skidding to a halt beside mine.

“Any sign of them?”he asked, voice tight with worry.

---