Their reaction was sudden and the same. They all turned at the noise. None of them could see anything of the explosion as it echoed down the trail. It was too far away, and the trees blocked their vision beyond a few meters. It wasn’t loud due to the distance, but the blast from the claymore was expected, and they’d been waiting for it.
Mike glanced at his watch. “Sooner than I expected. They must have been moving fast after they figured we’d doubled back.”
Tom’s lips formed into a tight smile. “That will slow them down.”
Al nodded his head once. “Got what they deserved.”
Mike caught both men's stares. “You know the plan. The door to the escape tunnel is just ahead.” He knelt, and Niki climbed off his back. “We rush the door, enter the code, and get to the end of the tunnel as fast as possible. If anyone is monitoring the camera, they’ll see us for sure. Save something in the tank to get up the stairs and into Hotak’s office. There’ll be guards somewhere in the place, but hopefully, most of them are out here looking for us. I doubt anyone will be on guard outside the door. If there are, blast them.”
Mike stepped to the front behind Tom and Al. Julia and Randall would follow helping Niki. As plans went, he thought, this wasn’t the worst plan ever. It certainly wasn't the best. But, as his old Ranger instructor had said, improvise, adapt, and overcome. Or something like that.
He faced forward. Once he rounded the bend in the trail, he’d be able to see the cut in the side of the mountain. The trees wouldn’t protect them from sight anymore.
Three, two, one, go. He leaned forward and began a slow run toward the bend in the trail. He held his AKS close muzzle pointed down the metal stock close to his shoulder. As he rounded the corner and increased his speed. The gun barrel lifted ready to fire.
The sight in front of him almost made him fire his weapon. Bodies lay on the ground to the side of the hatch. He dropped the barrel after he recognized the blood. Someone had pulled the bodies out of the tunnel. The grenade had done a number on them their clothes and flesh were shredded. The severity of how bad depended on where they’d stood when the grenade went off. As he got closer, he noticed some of the wounds had been pretty gruesome.
Mike ran to the keypad. Al dropped to a knee weapon pointed at the closed door. Tom grabbed the lever ready to pull down. He was breathing too hard and made an effort to control it by inhaling and exhaling through his nose.
He entered the code. The sound of metal on metal came from the latch. Tom pulled the lever and yanked the door open.
“Clear.” Al Jumped up and ran into the tunnel. Mike followed. Tom left the door open for the others and stepped in over the bottom of the metal frame.
At the end of the tunnel, Al turned the first corner weapon up and climbed two stairs at a time. The stairway was set up the same as the stairs they’d used earlier in the complex. Go up a set of stairs hit a landing, up, more stairs, another landing, only this time there were no intervening floors.
At the last landing, they stood in a short hallway a metal door facing them.
Mike took a deep breath and held it then let it out in a whoosh. Al and Tom were breathing just as heavily as he was. They weren’t young anymore. No matter how much martial arts training and other workouts he did it was never enough. Father Time was always trying to pull him down. He wasn’t ready for Father Time or Hotak's door, but he couldn’t wait any longer. The air escaped his nose and he started forward. He took the door handle, twisted it, and pulled. The door flew open. Mike moved right, around the door frame weapon up and ready his front sight searching for a target. He walked down the side of the wall to the corner.
He knew Al would go left since he’d gone right. He heard Al moving to his corner. Tom moved left outside the door and remained near the doorway his weapon searching.
Mike got to his corner and scanned the room. He saw Tom and Al out of the corner of his eye. They were scanning, searching for any threat.
“Clear.”
To Mike’s left was Hotak’s desk. On it were the things, you’d expect to find on an executive’s desk. A computer, calendar, and assorted other knick-knacks littered the expensive looking monstrosity. Behind the desk was the oversized window overlooking the valley. Expensive art hung from the walls. Small wooden tables lined the perimeter of the room. On each were miniature sculptures, figurines, and small picture frames holding black and white photos. On a table of its own, a jewel-encrusted scabbard with a gold and jewel knife handle rested on a gold stand. In the middle of the room was a large ornately carved wooden conference-style table. Matching chairs with thick blue cushions, one at each end and three to either side waited for someone to pull them out and sit in them. Persian rugs littered the floor of the room.
A dark stained elaborately carved door was across the room from Tom. “Check it.” AKS in his shoulder Mike shifted the muzzle. Another closed door was on the opposite wall of the window. Al moved to it. That door was also a dark brown, but it was metal. The reinforced door and frame locked shut with two sliding bars. One was high one low. They were ready to slide across the entrance into locking clamps.
Tom opened his door a crack. “Leads into a living room with more doors, three across and one to the right.” He left the door partially open to keep watch.
“Keep an eye out.” There’s too many ways in Mike thought. He kept watch down the escape tunnel waiting for the other three to come up. “Al check the other door.”
Al opened the door and smiled. “Hallway leading to a double stairway. Looks like an elevator halfway down.” A chuckle escaped his lips. “It stinks like jet fuel.”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“Outstanding.” Mike’s mouth formed a wicked smile.
Tom laughed.
“The other three will be here in a few, and we’ll get started.” Started with what he wasn’t sure, probably with the desk. At some point, someone would be up here to ruin their fun. He tugged the claymore bag around his back for the hundredth time. The thin cloth strap cut into his sweaty shoulder no matter how he wore it. He aimed the AKS down the tunnel until he saw the three stragglers. “I got them.”
“Roger,” Al said.
Niki hung onto Julia. He noted her bum ankle now had less of a limp and more of a limp drag as they made their way forward. Randall stood at the top of the stairs looking down. Mike thought he must have been listening. He made no reaction other than to turn and follow the women. Mike caught his eye. He lifted his shoulders and shook his head.
The two women walked by. “Take her to the desk and sit her down. Randall, get on the computer, rummage around through the drawers, and find something we can use.”
He threw the claymore bag onto the desk. It was getting annoying. He had a red mark on his neck. “If it’s not in English have Niki help you.”
Tom snapped his fingers twice and put his hand back on the pistol grip of his AKS.
Tom was intent on something on the other side of his door.
Hotak? Mike joined him. He caught Al’s attention and pointed at the escape tunnel.
Al pushed the two bars shut, locked them, and jogged over to the open door to the tunnel.
Julia raised her eyebrows.
He motioned for her to stay with Al.
“I got noise in one of the rooms.”
Mike moved around him and peeked inside. “Too many entrances. Too big.” The living room had a huge television on the same wall as the window in the office. A game console sat on a table in front of the TV an off-white leather couch faced the table and the TV. Behind it was an L shaped couch of the same color a couple of comfortable looking chairs. They took up the rest of the space between a handmade coffee table and the couch. Along the wall near them was a long bar. Spread around the room were Persian carpets, art, and other paraphernalia of the super-rich.
“Which door?”
“Not sure.”
He raised his hand, pointed to Julia, and used his finger to motion her over.
“See that door?” He nodded to the lone door opposite the television.
“Huh huh.”
“Tom and I are going to check those three doors.” His barrel swung across the opposite wall. “You are going to stay here and cover that lone door. If it opens, anyone who tries to come out blast it. No hesitation.”
“Got it.”
Tom tapped him on the arm. “How do you want to handle this.”
Mike looked into the vast wide open room. “Door on the left we’ll work our way right.”
“Loud or quiet?”
He glanced at Julia. Her eyes stayed focused on the door. Either way, they were probably screwed. There were too few of them, too many doors, and bad guys coming. “Take my lead. Each door I’ll go left you go right.”
“Roger.”
Mike led, his rifle centered on the leftmost door he knew Tom was watching the other two doors as they moved.
Three rapid-fire gunshots cracked from behind them. Wood splintered and a high-pitched scream emanated from the other side of the door Julia guarded.
Julia’s rifle stuck out from the doorway she stood behind. The door she was guarding had three holes in it.
A second muffled scream came from the room. The scream became crying. A woman? If they didn't clear the three rooms first anyone in them could come out behind them. Whoever it was could have been bleeding out. Dammit.
“You! Come out of there with your hands up!”
He watched the door. Nothing.
“Come out!”
“Julia, maintain control of that door.”
Tom nudged him.
Mike looked back and nodded. He raised three fingers and counted down. His hand formed a fist, grabbed the door handle, and pulled it open. He button-hooked around the opening Tom behind him. It was a child's bedroom. There was a Persian flare to the room same as the office and living room. Western toys lay scattered on the floor, a computer sat on a desk in the corner of the room. They checked for anyone hiding. Empty. The next two rooms were bedrooms one a child's and one an adult’s room both empty.
They stacked at the bullet-pockmarked door, Julia had her weapon raised but still aimed at the door.
“You in the room come out now!”
“No! If you come in here, I’ll kill you.”
Mike heard the fear in the half scream half cry.
“If you don’t come out I’ll throw a grenade in there.”
Another voice whispered inside the room.
Mike snatched a small metal figurine off a table. Tom’s face was grim. He nodded.
Mike counted down to a fist, pull the door open, and threw the figurine into the room. It slammed to the floor, bounced forward, kicked off a chair leg, and settled to the right. Two muffled screams followed the bouncing object. Mike stormed in, turned to the right Tom to the left.
Two kids lay on the floor. The bigger kid was curled in the fetal position. The younger one kneeled over the top of him trying to protect his brother from the men entering the room. Next to the boys was a man in a well-tailored suit. A bullet had torn out his throat. Red covered the front of his suit and the floor around him. His mouth and eyes were wide in disbelief.
Mike bent at the waist for a closer look. It wasn’t Hotak.
“Clear.”
The room was as big as the living room and more ostentatious. Everything a rich asshole could shove into an oversized room was there. A bed as big house, rugs covered the floor, and several covered parts of the walls. All the furniture looked handmade the art looked old and priceless. Pictures of battles hung from all four walls. They depicted Afghans fighting anyone who had the poor sense to invade their land. Mike recognized some of the invaders, the British, Alexander’s Greeks, and the Soviets. Others he had no clue. Outsiders have tried to rule Afghanistan for thousands of years and proved over and over, they're nobodies punching bag.
The boys looked to be around eight or nine. They could have been younger or older. He wasn't good at telling kid’s ages.
“Julia get in here.”
Julia stopped at the doorway. Her eyes turned red. She almost leaped toward the kids.
“Stop.”
She froze.
“Tom, check the little one.”
Tom pulled the boy off his brother as he did a knife came from his shirt sleeve. The blade darted forward and stabbed at Tom.
“Ahh.” Tom threw the kid halfway across the room into a black leather chair. The momentum of the throw caused the high-backed chair to fall backward. It balanced on its rear two legs, then drop spilling the boy out on the other side.
“Almost killed by a fucking three-year-old.” He bent down and picked up an expensive European-made knife. “Little bastard stabbed me in my rifle.” There was a gash in the plastic forearm.
“I’ll check the other boy.” Mike put the end of his rifle on the boy’s neck. “Roll over onto your back.” He pressed down with the rifle. “Do it.”
The boy rolled over. Splinters from the door stuck out of his cheek and neck. The blood on his face mixed with his tears. He wiped the diluted red streaks with his sleeve as his hand slid into the opposite sleeve.
“Stop. Pull your hand out and whatever weapon you have.” The younger boy jumped up and rushed at Mike. Tom reached out, snatched the front of the boy’s man dress, and threw him past the upset chair onto the bed.
The boy on the floor pulled his hand out dropping his knife. Another expensive one. Mike kicked it away.
“Mike.” He’d heard that tone from Al before. “We got company.”