Page 67 of The Devil's Ransom

Rodavan was trapped between the door and the terrace. He tried to run by one of the men but was caught, lifted off the ground, and slammed to the floor. Pushka made it to the terrace, panting in panic. He threw his bag over the wall, leapt on a table next to the iron gutter pipe, and was ripped off it with the force of a hurricane. He slammed into the concrete, rolled over, and found himself staring at the barrel of a gun held by a blond woman. He saw her snarl, then her finger tighten on the trigger.

He held his hands up and said, “No, no, no. Don’t.”

A black man appeared, touching her shoulder. She relaxed. The black man said, “You speak English?”

Pushka shook his head. The black man said, “Then what was ‘No, no, don’t’? And why are you shaking your head at the question if you don’t understand?”

He punched Pushka in the face, bouncing his head on the concrete. He said again, “Do you speak English?”

Pushka nodded. The black man said, “Good. Let’s go inside.”

Chapter39

I took one look at the cloistered space and knew that the minute we hit the stairwell to the safehouse we’d alert them. They weren’t stupid. They were computer geniuses, after all. So I’d decided to go in hard, like a hit in Fallujah, Iraq. No subtlety, no sneaking around. Just set up squirter control to contain any escape routes, then storm the place full-on, using speed, surprise, and violence of action. Once we broke the plane of the stairwell, I’d assume we were compromised, as I did when cracking a gate in Fallujah.

I’d set things in motion, getting Brett and Jennifer in position, then Veep, Knuckles, and I sat for a little bit at an outdoor café in a courtyard adjacent to the Makarun alley waiting on the squirter team to climb the wall. I was a little bit antsy because if they had some perimeter warning out the back, we might be screwed, but I figured if they realized we were coming up the wall, they’d come running out the front. The stairwell was a choke point that would prevent escape, but it would create problems, as we’d have to take them down right here in the tunnel, with the patrons in the restaurant in full view.

Knuckles twiddled a bread knife in his hands, saying, “Full-on assault here. That’s a little bold.”

I chuckled and said, “Oversight Council gives us Omega. We determine how to execute. Yeah, full-on assault. We break that stairwell, and you know they’re going to run.”

He smiled and said, “I’m not complaining. I get a little sick of the ‘snoop and poop until we get shot at’ scenario. I’d rather be the ones doing the shooting from the outset.”

I squinted my eyes, and he held up his hands saying, “Metaphorically speaking. I’m not going to blast away just because.”

Our earpieces came alive. “Squirter control in place. Cleared to breach.”

I clicked on and said,“No issues?”

“Nope. No compromise. Standing by.”

I looked at Veep and Knuckles and said, “Looks like it’s showtime.”

I glanced around, saw nothing of concern, and went back to the net, saying, “We’re on the way.”

We sidled up to the tunnel entrance leading to the restaurant and the stairwell. We went down the tunnel, stopping right at the gap of the stairwell and seeing a guy sitting on the bottom steps bouncing a rubber ball. I had no idea if he was early warning, but didn’t think so. If they had an alert, it would be through cameras and motion sensors, not some guy on the steps. They were sophisticated in high-tech solutions, not social ones. He was probably just some worker hanging around.

I stopped in front of the man and held out a fifty-kuna note, saying, “Go get yourself some gelato.”

He smiled with rotting teeth, took the cash, and walked back up the tunnel. I turned to Veep and Knuckles saying, “Okay, it’s on the third floor. Hard breach. Veep, you’ve got the door. Knuckles, you’ve got breach.”

We stepped into the stairwell, getting out of sight from the restaurant courtyard, and Veep circled his backpack to the front, pulling out a small battering ram that looked like a two-foot iron telephone pole with handles at the front and back. Knuckles withdrew his suppressed Glock, looked at me, and I stacked behind Veep, bringing out my own.

I said, “Execute,” and Knuckles took off up the stairwell, leading the way with his Glock, Veep right behind him, all of us running like gazelles being chased by a cheetah. We reached the door in seconds, but knew we’d already been seen, either by a proximity alert or an actual camera. Knuckles put his barrel on the door for security and Veep came from behind him, swinging the ram in a vicious arc, shattering the locks. He spun aside, dropping the ram, and Knuckles raced in, me right behind him.

Knuckles saw one man coming around a table full of computers, immediately focused on his hands, realized he was unarmed, and grabbed him by the throat, slamming him to the floor. I went right, getting around him and trying to reach another man racing with a backpack to the terrace. He made it, but I knew that would be no escape.

Veep came in, running to the bedroom. He came out, said, “It’s clear,” then, “The computers are smoking.”

I looked at the table and saw all four of them daisy-chained together with a computer cable, the first one looking like it was melting, the second showing a great deal of smoke, and the third just starting to puff. I grabbed the fourth and jerked it off the table, separating the cord.

To Veep I said, “Close the door.” He did so just as Brett came in frog-marching the man who’d fled, his face showing the start of a shiner. I recognized him from our operations on the bar terrace in Zagreb. He was the one who’d been shot.

I said, “Put them both in a chair. Veep, see if that last computer is still worth a shit.”

Veep went to the table and I turned to the men, saying, “Youtwo chuckleheads have caused a lot of problems for me and my friends.”

The one from the terrace said, “We have done nothing. You are robbers. You have broken the law.”

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