He held a finger up and motioned for them to follow him. He crept down to the end of the hall, indicating for them to pause as he looked, then turned to them.
Leta saw the fallen man move, but before she could warn the other guy, the man had raised his hand and fired, hitting the guy in the back.
Clara fired back, hitting the prone man in the head and taking half of it off.
Leta set the sample cases down and ran to the stricken man. She ripped his vest open to check his wounds.
“Go!” he gasped, blood bubbling from his lips.
“Sorry, buddy,” Leta said, “but you just got yourself a trip to the OR.”
Two more men appeared at the end of the hall, and Clara aimed her gun, then immediately relaxed upon recognizing them. “We need help! He’s been hit.”
They rushed in. “Get a gurney!” Leta ordered. “We have to get him into surgery, now!” One of them raced away to go get one.
“We have to get up to the roof!” Clara said. “We can’t let these samples fall into the wrong hands.”
“You go. Get one of them to help you carry them. I’ve got to get this guy into surgery.”
The other man returned with a gurney and with their help Leta got the stricken man situated on it. She pointed to the second man, then to Clara. “Go with her. Get her and the samples to the roof.” She started pushing the gurney. To the other guy, she said, “You, come with me, and get us to the OR.”
“Shit.” Clara shoved the cases in her hands at the two other men. Now a third one had joined them. “Get them on Victor’s helo. Stay with them, carry them yourselves, until you hand-deliver them to Mama and the others. I’ll get her to the OR and assist her. I know where it is.”
The men looked terrified as they stared at the cases. “What?” the first one asked.
“Roof. Helo. Now. Don’t drop them, don’t leave them, don’t lose them. Go!” Clara pointed at the third guy. “Cover them! Get them to the roof and on that fucking helo!”
The men took off as Clara grabbed the other side of the gurney and helped Leta steer it toward the elevator, taking point to swipe her badge and get them through the closed doors. “We’re gonna get our asses spanked over this by our men. You realize that, right?”
“I don’t care. I won’t let him die. A spanking is well worth that.”
What she didn’t want to think about, much less say aloud, was that she hoped her men would still be alive when this ended to spank her for not leaving.
And that she and Clara would still be alive, too.
Chapter Eighteen
Uncle and Archie raced toward the maintenance bay, where another casualty had been reported. Whoever this was, they were coming in hot and heavy.
Uncle didn’t need to be a genius to know what their target was.
“Bubba said Silo hired a CIA guy to put together a team,” Archie told him as they ran. “Their objective is the Kite lab. Personnel and samples.”
“Of course it is,” Uncle said. “Any idea how large a team?”
“No. Bubba’s guys tortured the handler, but all he knew was their final price and that there were at least five of them. Supposed to make it look like an insurgent attack, grab the research team and samples and data, shoot the place up in the process, and get them out to St. Louis.”
“To the church stronghold’s lab.”
“Yep.”
“I’m getting sick and tired of this asshole,” Uncle said. “I’m ready to go AWOL and take the fucker out myself, fail-safe or not.”
“Stand in line,” Archie said. “Besides, can you even go AWOL when you’re already OTG?”
“I don’t know but I think I’m going to find out.” They heard gunfire as they approached the department and ran up behind one of Archie’s guys.
“Status?” Archie asked him.
“Two in there, for sure, at least three or more, whereabouts unknown. They got in and past us before we realized it. Rest of the team has already spread out to other floors looking for them.”
Archie grabbed a radio off his belt and keyed it. “This is Archie. Call a code indigo-zulu, not a drill. Repeat, this is not a drill.”
Within seconds, Uncle heard doors starting to swing shut and lock along the hallway behind them as the same voice that had announced the lockdown sounded over the PA system.
“Attention all staff. Code indigo-zulu. Repeat, code indigo-zulu. This is not a drill. All doors will now close and lock. Remain where you are until the all-clear has sounded. Thank you for your cooperation.”
“What about your guys?” Uncle asked him.
“Just like you, we have all-access badges. The maintenance guys they’ve killed so far won’t. They’ll be trapped in between doors.”
“Or in a room, or a section of hallway.”
“We’ll go room by room if we have to and clear every last damn one of them,” Archie said. He tapped one of his guys on the shoulder. “Throw a flash-bang in there.”
“Roger roger.” He pulled one from the pocket of his tactical vest and heaved it into the room. It went off, and the two men rushed in, followed by Uncle and Archie.
One of the leading men fired before Uncle could even see their targets. Seconds later, it was over. One of the attackers was dead, the other captured.
Uncle walked over to the survivor, who lay face down on the floor, his wrists and ankles bound with heavy-duty zip-ties. “How many of you are there?”
“Fuck you.”
Uncle shot the guy in the back of the right knee. “Want to try that again?”
The man howled in pain. “Fuck! Six more besides us!”
“We know your goal is the Kite research team. Anyone else involved besides you guys?”
“Fuck, man, I don’t know! We weren’t told that. We were told to get the target personnel, and samples and data, make a mess and shake the tree while we did, and get out. Only Bowlins knows what else.”
“Where’s he?”
“Headed upstairs with the others.”
Archie looked at Uncle and nodded.
Uncle put two bullets into the back of the man’s head.
“Strip them, and then take them to the incinerator,” Archie told his guys. “Get their hands, though. Bag them and put them on ice until we can ship them to DC for fingerprint and DNA analysis. I want to know who these fucks were.” He got on the radio and got the rest of his team working their way upstairs toward the Kite lab.
“Remind them that Zed’s up there somewhere.”
“They know him.”
“Yeah, but the other SOTIF teams won’t.”
Archie followed up with that, one of his guys immediately responding that Zed was currently with them.
“Roger roger,” Archie said. “On my way up now.” They heard a muffled explosion from somewhere else in the building, which kicked them into high gear, heading for a stairwell.
“What the hell was that?” Archie called over the radio. “Somebody talk to me!”
“Fourth floor, southeast stairwell,” someone replied. “We’re on it.”
“It’s a diversion,” Uncle said as he followed Archie up, taking the stairs two at a time. “Get everyone moving upstairs. Now. We can’t let them get between that floor and the roof.”
“Remind me who of your people up there are armed?”
“Clara. And Snarky has a gun.”
“In other words, she can’t shoot.”
“Her first lesson was today.”
“Terrific.”
They raced up the stairs, stopping only when Archie got a call over the radio from his pilot. “Three precious package SOBs, two SOTIF, heading out.”
“Wait, three?”
“Yeah.”
“You should have five.”
“Two stayed behind to come next trip. Said they needed to get stuff.”
“Fuck,” Uncle muttered, starting up the stairs again and already knowing before Archie demanded a confirmation from the pilot which two stayed behind.
r />
Why the hell didn’t you go?
Clara had proven herself calm in tight situations in Mexico. But Leta was a doctor, not a fighter. That morning at the gun range had already proven that much to them.
Another radio call-out. One of Archie’s men had been hit by gunfire just outside the lab area before a civvie dropped the unfriendly.
Uncle stopped again. “What did he say?”
“Repeat that,” Archie ordered.
The guy did.
“Where’s Surgery?” Uncle asked.
“First floor. Behind the Emergency department.”
Uncle turned around to head downstairs. “Find Zed and have him meet me down there. Clara will be a high-value target for them, and Leta will be taking your guy to the OR.”
Archie reached out and grabbed his arm. “I need every man clearing this facility. There’s at least five more still out there. I’ve got over five thousand civvies in this complex right now. I can’t have them holing up somewhere and taking unarmed hostages when I know the three scientists are in the air and safe.”
“Dammit.” Uncle knew Archie was right. Turning, he followed the man back upstairs.
* * * *
“You realize this is fucking stupid, right?” Clara said as she stood at the end of the gurney closest to the elevator door.
“I have to get that bullet out of him and stabilize him.” The guy had passed out. Leta wasn’t sure what got nicked, but they needed to get him into the OR, stat. The spreading pool of blood under him on the gurney meant he didn’t have a lot of time. She’d pulled a knife from his belt and sliced off one of his trouser legs to make a makeshift pressure bandage to hold against the wound.
“The staff will be locked down, unable to move.”
“Then we operate without them.”
“You an anesthesiologist, too?”
“I did a couple of turns, yeah.”
“Great. Lucky for you, I know some basics.”
“Then we’ll make a hell of a team, won’t we?”
The elevator door slid open. When Leta tried to push the gurney forward, Clara held up a staying hand and eased her head out enough to look, keeping her gun ready. Then she grabbed the foot of the gurney and pulled as Leta pushed, leading the way down the maze of halls.
When they reached the surgery department, they found the pre-op area deserted.
“What the hell?” Leta asked. That time of morning at the hospital in Ft. Myers, they would have still had a very busy surgical schedule ahead of them.
“Lockdown procedures. They’ll have moved anyone ambulatory into the ER at the first code. Fortified walls there. Like a damn bank vault.”
“Oh.” They continued through to an unoccupied OR. It looked like two of the six surgical suites were already in use. “We can’t break their sterile fields,” Clara said. “We’ve been up in the Kite lab. Small risk, but we can’t risk it. We’re on our own.”
Inside the OR, they got the guy transferred to the table and shoved the gurney out of the way. Clara stripped off her gloves, dropped them onto the floor, then donned a fresh pair. She grabbed a pair of bandage shears and started cutting off the man’s shirt to bare their patient’s torso while Leta went to scrub in.
Hell, she’d stop the bleeding, get him stabilized, and keep him alive until they could get a full surgical team in to take over and take care of him.
She didn’t want to lose him.
She stripped off her gloves and mask into a biohazard bin. After finding protective gowns, masks, and gloves, she scrubbed and donned them, backing into the OR where Clara had the man stripped from the waist up and had drenched the area with antiseptic prep solution.
“We need vitals,” Leta said. “And we need to type and match him.”
“Working on it, give me a sec.” Clara finished the skin prep and peeled off the gloves she’d worn, and the face mask. She dropped them to the floor and grabbed another mask, and gloves. “So much for sterile field,” she said. “They’ll have to burn this damn place when we’re done.”
“How much surgery experience you have?”
“More than I wish I did, and almost all of it emergency. A good chunk of those with me acting as the surgeon. Meatball medicine at its finest.”
“Why aren’t you a doctor?”
“I keep asking myself that.” Clara got a set of electrodes slapped on the guy and started the monitor, as well as hooking up a BP cuff.
“Come on, come on,” she muttered at the display before it cycled through and showed his stats. “BP low, pulse thready.”
“Fuck.” Leta would have to find what she needed, meaning having to scrub in again. Turning, she started rooting through cabinets to find an intubation kit. “Get an IV started on him. I’ll tube him. Where are the fucking tube kits?”
“Probably out there if they’re not in here.” Clara pointed at the door leading to the scrub and pre-op area.
Leta headed out there, blocking the door with a rolling stool so she wouldn’t have to keep opening it with her badge to get in. Sure enough, in the pre-op area she found intubation kits, IV supplies, and anesthesia meds in a locked supply cabinet that her badge opened for her like magic.
She raced back in, quickly getting him intubated while Clara started pushing IV drugs to keep him sedated. Leta’s hands shook as she worked it down his throat, until she saw his vocal cords. “I’m in.” She bagged him and with relief saw his O2 stats start to climb before Clara was able to get the vent machine going and hook him up.
“Tape that in place while I find a trauma kit.” Leta turned to the cabinets again and rummaged around until she found what she needed. Once Clara had everything taped into place, she helped Leta get him positioned and prepped and the site area draped.
“Okay, watch him while I scrub in again, then you scrub in.”
“I’ve had my mitts all over him,” Clara said.
“Like you said yourself, Kite.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Leta stood on the left side of the table, and had just taken a scalpel from Clara. With Clara on the other side of the table and handing her instruments as well as handling suction, that’s when Leta noticed movement in the scrub area.
The door swung open. The armed man stared at them. “Back away from him. You’re coming with me. I saw you upstairs, in the lab area.”
This obviously wasn’t one of Archie’s guys.
Leta didn’t move. “I’m in the middle of a surgery.”
“And if I shoot him, he won’t need it, will he?”
Leta shifted, the feel of her gun’s grip digging into her right kidney. She’d stripped off the lab coat and pulled on the surgical gown over her clothes.
“Okay. Just…can I adjust his anesthesia so I don’t lose him?”
“Move slow.”
She backed toward the head of the table, putting her right hand down, like she was checking something. Heart racing, it felt like time slowed, blurred as she kept her left hand up and away from her body, directing the man’s focus.
When she turned toward the man again, time sped up, shifting into turbo as she leaned close to the table, reached behind her, and drew, turned, and fired.
She didn’t hit him with the first shot, but that was okay, because she kept pulling the trigger. It startled him enough that it allowed Clara a chance to draw and shoot him.
The man collapsed.
Clara ran over, putting one more round into his head before she pulled his gun away from him and kicked his body out through the door, closing it. “Dammit!”
Leta stood frozen, her gun stuck open, empty.
Clara rounded the table and, after holstering her own gun, took the nine from her, releasing the slide. “Use the sink in here,” Clara told her. “We’re beyond sterile field now. If there are any others, they’ll come running.”
Leta stared at the blood smear, fresh, still trickling down the inside of the door. A few holes in it, too, from her rounds. She wasn’t sure how many tim
es she’d hit the guy, but—
“Leta!” Clara’s sharp voice brought her back into focus. “Guy on the table. Wash up.” She tucked Leta’s gun into the back of her waistband and grabbed the rifle the guy’d had. That gun she checked, then rolled over a cart next to her and laid the gun on top of it. “Won’t get caught unaware again,” Clara darkly swore.
Leta stripped off the gloves, washed up, and pulled on new gloves. Trying to calm herself and still her shaky hands, she focused on the guy and what she had to do.
“Deep breaths and don’t hyperventilate,” Clara said. “The shaking will get better in a minute. That’s the adrenaline. Focus. You can do this.”
Leta shook her hands out in front of her before holding her hand out, palm-up. “Scalpel.”
Clara dropped it into her palm. “Atta girl.”
Chapter Nineteen
Zed stuck with Archie’s guys, heading down to the fifth floor where they had at least one of the gunmen pinned in a stairwell.
Until the guy blew the door out of the frame and escaped into the corridors.
They finally managed to trap him in a storeroom, where they had to throw a couple of flash-bangs to subdue him before shooting him.
Zed hated like fuck he had to leave Leta upstairs and unguarded, but Clara was good with a gun. Their helo jockey would be there soon, and then Archie’s men would get them all evac’ed and to safety.
Until they received word that there were eight gunmen total in the attack. Leaving another four unaccounted for.
And then they found out Clara and Leta didn’t make it to the roof and leave with the others.
Zed knew he couldn’t think about that. He needed to focus, work with the other men as they started clearing the floor and trying to find the rest of the attackers. It took them another twenty minutes before they had seven confirmed dead.
It looked like Bowlins, the leader, was the only one still unaccounted for. Zed and Uncle had managed to reunite, and had rejoined Archie.
“Find that fuck,” Archie said to his guys over the radio. “He doesn’t get out of here alive.”
Seconds later, the radio crackled to life. “Shots fired in Surgery.”