Page 74 of Edinburgh Escape
“I believe the Donchenko Bratva gang has arrived,” Ace said. “Any chance of entering through the rear?”
“Yes, if we move quickly. Right now, there are only two guards back here, and they’re heading into the building. We’re moving in.”
“Jack and I will back up, swing around and cover you from the rear,” Ace said. “We’re leaving Ramsey and Dax to cover the front in case someone makes a run for it with the hostages.”
“Ewan, Atkins, Fearghas, let’s go.” Callum led the way, submachine gun poised and ready.
The guards who’d been outside moments before had disappeared through a smaller door next to the overhead doors. The muffled sound of gunfire inside the building made Callum’s gut roil. He hoped Maggie and Bryce were lying low, out of the line of fire.
As Callum reached the smaller door, the two guards who’d gone in burst through it. When they saw Callum, they raised their rifles.
Too late. Callum released a short burst of rounds from the submachine gun. The men jerked, dropped their rifles and fell forward.
Callum stepped past them, ducked low and slipped through the door, moving quickly to the side.
A man hiding behind a stack of wooden crates, leaned around the corner every so often to pop off a round with his handgun. He didn’t notice Callum as he slipped up behind him, hooked his arm around the man’s neck and squeezed tightly.
The man fought, but without air, he couldn’t call out.
Fearghas grabbed the gun from the man’s hand as Callum dragged him out the back door.
“Where are the girl and the little boy?” Callum asked. He loosened his arm enough for the man to respond.
He coughed and said something in Russian.
“He just called your mother a whore,” Atkins said.
Callum tightened his hold around the man’s neck and lifted him off his feet. He kicked his feet and clawed at Callum’s arm, but Callum didn’t relent, adrenaline pumping through his veins, his temper growing shorter.
As the man’s attempts to escape slowed, Callum loosened his hold barely enough to allow the man to breathe. “Last chance,” Callum warned him.
“In the van,” he gasped in heavily accented English.
Callum shoved him toward Fearghas. “Shoot him, stab him, turn him over to Donchenko Bratva, I don’t care. Just don’t let him leave until I get Maggie and Bryce out.” Callum entered the door again and took up the position the Russian had held long enough to study the dimly lit interior of the warehouse, where a turf war was in full swing, bullets flying indiscriminately. When he spotted the van, he let out a quiet curse and spoke into his radio headset. “I’ve spotted the van Maggie and Bryce might be in. It’s halfway across the building. It appears the two gangs are divided in the building, shooting at each other. The van is near the middle of the battle.”
“Getting to that van would be suicide,” Fearghas said. “What’s your plan? I’m in.”
“You’re right, there’s no way a sane person could get to the van by just walking over to it. But it’s faced forward, with an overhead door directly in front of it. If we could get to the van, we could ram it through the door and out into the street.”
“Callum, you’re not getting to the van,” Atkins said. “There are so many bullets flying, you’ll have lead poisoning before you can get inside it and drive it through the doors.”
“I might not have to get inside it.”
“How else will you crash it through the doors?”
Callum stared at a giant forklift near the back overhead door. “All the rest of you have to do is cover me while I get to that forklift.”
“Callum, you’re fucking crazy,” Ewan murmured through the headset.
“You got a better idea?” Callum asked. “I’m listening.”
“You know how to drive one of those things?” Atkins asked. “If you don’t, I do.”
“I worked in my uncle’s bottling company for three summers and on weekends,” Callum said. “I know how to drive a forklift. Cover me.”
“We’ve got your six,” Ace’s voice came through the headset. “We’re right behind you.”
Callum glanced right, then left and then aimed for another stack of crates across an empty space.
