“Warris’s?” Brown whispered to me.shrugged. We checked our magazines, then headed, still pushing the wheelbarrow.next tunnel grew much more narrow, and weto turn sideways to pass through one section. As thewall dragged against my shirt, I imagined the tun-tightening like a fist, the air forced from my collaps-lungs, and I began to panic. A quick look to thesaid relief was just ahead.had to abandon the wheelbarrow, of course,
GH OS T RE CONonce we made it onto the other side, the passagemuch wider, as revealed by Brown’s light.nose crinkled as a nasty odor began clinging toair, like a broken sewer pipe, and the others cringedwell. Our shemaghsdid nothing to help. I didn’t wantbelieve that the Taliban had created an “outhouse”the cave, but judging from the smell, they mightresorted to that.stifled a cough as we shuffled farther, almost reluc-now. The odor grew worse. We reached a T-shaped, where the real stench came from the right,I thought my eyes were tearing.shoved down his shemagh, held his nose, andthat he did not want to go down the right tunnel.that’s exactly where I signaled for him to go.shook his head vigorously.widened my eyes. Do it.then I began to gag, caught myself, and weon. I held the shemaghtighter to my nose andwithout much relief.voice came from behind us, the words in Pashto:
“What’s going on now?”turned back and Brown raised his light.was a young Taliban fighter, his AK hanging fromshoulder as he raised his palms in confusion.squinted at us more deeply until Brown directedlight into his eyes.couldn’t see, but I think Hume shot him. Thump.. The body count was racking up too swiftly fortaste, but the presence of those boots gave me hope.
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left that guy where he fell and forged on towardterrible stink.
“I can barely breathe,” said Hume.
“Just keep going,” I told him.ground grew more damp, and up ahead, aboutmeters, were a pair of broad wooden planks tra-another hole in the ground, the result of yet acave-in, I guessed. Just before the hole anotherjogged off to the left, with faint light shifting atfar end. At the intersection, I saw that the other tun-to our right curved upward and the night sky shone—a way out, but on which side of the mountain? I was disoriented.then from the other side of the hole and the plankstwo Taliban, rifles lowered but still ready to snap up.were talking to each other when they spotted meBrown, and one looked up, shouted something.shot the guy who screamed.fired at the other one... and missed! Thattook off running and hollering like a maniac.from behind us, down in the hole, where theof human feces and urine rose to an ungodly, a muffled cry rose and echoed up across the rock.
WENT Y-SEVENcharged after the guy who’d sprinted away, my heartin my ears. The tunnel curved abruptly toleft and then made an abrupt right turn. The guya ladder at the tunnel’s dead end and started up. I shot him before he made it halfway, and he camewith a heavy thud, shaking and raising his handssurrender. Under different circumstances, I mighttaken him prisoner. Instead, I shot him again, thenaround, saw the lantern lighting the path in oneand more stacks of opium, along with crates andof ammunition.shouted a name, then asked, “Where are?” in Pashto.stole a quick breath, glanced up.
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, framed by the hole in the ceiling, was a mandown, his bearded face glowing in the lantern. Imy teeth and shot him, too, in the face. He camedown and crashed onto the first guy. He was, gray beard, his body trembling, nerves misfiring.riding the massive wave of adrenaline, I mountedladder, which I guessed led into another chamber. Iabout to reach the top and turn around when some-rushed into the tunnel below, startling the hell outme.
“Boss!” Brown whispered.came down two rungs, my heart palpitating. Brownwaving at me to come back, his teeth bared.
“What?”mouthed the words: We found him!my first tour in country, my team captured anpoliceman who’d been working secretly as anfor the Taliban. He shared with us thefrom his boss: “I want you to torture them withso horrible that their cries of agony will scarethe birds from their nests, and if any one of them, he will never again have a night’s sleep.”guy described in vivid detail the creative meth-he and his comrades employed to slowly and system-kill their prisoners. The generous use of electricity,, water, and clubs would’ve made even the moststomached soldier grimace as he listened to the.
GH OS T RE CON, when we found Warris, my imagina-had already run wild...I’d forgotten they wanted him in good condi-. They still wanted to negotiate, and I’m sure Zahedheavily influenced by the company he kept, other-Warris would have been much closer to death. Ione look past the planks, and in the tiny shaft ofcreated by Brown, I grimaced tightly.was sitting naked in a foot-high pool of water,, and feces. He’d been gagged, his hands cuffedhis back, and when he saw us, saw me remove my, his eyes lit with recognition. He struggled tofeet and began crying. His face was bruised and bat-, but otherwise he had all his appendages and couldmove.’d never seen a soldier, especially one from my own, look as helpless and pathetic, and I suddenly didn’twhat he said about me—politics and bullshit be. We were going to get him out of there, out of, out of that godforsaken country.’d brought about fifty feet of paracord in one of the, but we didn’t need it. Hume rushed back to fetchladder. The hole was about nine feet deep, the ladderseven feet long, so we’d get him out the easier way.Hume standing guard, Brown and I lowered our-down the ladder, and I descended to the bottom, just above the cesspool. I could barely look at War-. “It’s all right, buddy. We’re getting you out of here.”removed his gag, and he swallowed and said, “Thank.” He began crying again. “I won’t forget this.”
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“Don’t worry about it.”
“But Scott, I can’t lie about it... about what hap-. I can’t live with myself if I do that...”tone hardened. “You know what I think? I thinkif I save your ass right now, and you still turn me in,’ll be harder to live with than just lying. And really,you have to do is keep your mouth shut. That’s it.think about that...”bit his lip, then suddenly nodded.
“Can you climb?”
“I think so.”
“Then let’s move.”’d used a pair of our plastic zipper cuffs, and,a penlight in my mouth, I carefully sawed through. With that done, I started up the ladder, and hebehind me. I ordered Hume to go fetch somefrom one of the guys we’d killed, along with anshirt to use as rag. God, we needed to wipe him. He reeked. Hume hurried away, and once we pulledout, he backhanded the tears from his eyes and, “I’ve been down there most of the time. Theyme up to make the videos. I’ve barely had any-to eat or drink. I’m dying.”
“Easy, we’ll get you something,” whispered Brown.
“They got MREs down here.”two minutes, Hume came dashing back withclothes and a concerned look. “I heard some cryingthere,” he began, cocking a thumb over his shoulder.
“You know what I’m thinking...”
“Give me that goddamned ladder,” I barked.
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“Captain, do we really have time for this?” asked Brown.
“Indulge me for three minutes,” I said. “While youhim up and get him dressed.”dragged the ladder back up to the next hole in the, ascended, and stepped into another chamber withboxes of MREs. A narrow tunnel led to a second,wider area where a few lanterns burned brightly.mouth must’ve fallen open.ranging in age from perhaps twelve or thirteento seventeen or eighteen were dressed in tattered, bound and gagged, and sitting along the wall, asleeping, others staring blankly at me, and a fewcrying through their gags.the far end of the room was a sleeping area piledwith pillows and blankets, and I shuddered as Iwhat went on there. Zahed would, of course,any wrongdoing; he could blame it all on his men,that in some respects he did not have control over. And, of course, he’d be lying. He allowed this toon, and in doing so, created a nightmare for the par-of these poor girls.caught a blur of movement from the corner of my, and then from a tunnel exit near the back camefighter. I raised my silenced pistol and put twoin his heart. I wanted to put fifty.whirled back, lowered my shemagh, and in Pashtoto the girls, “I will help you.”girl in particular fought more violently againstbinding and gag. As I crossed to her, she began tofamiliar, and then, with a start, I knew she was
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’s daughter, Hila. I heard him screaming again,
“They took my daughter!”’d tied up the girls with cheap nylon rope andthem with scarves. I untied Hila’s gag, and sheher mouth, licked her lips, and began to speak inrapid fire that I didn’t understand.
“It’s okay...” I said in a soothing tone.surprised me. “Thank you. I... what they did...cannot see my family again...”
“You speak English?”
“My father taught me.”grinned weakly in understanding. “Okay. That helps.I know is, we’re going to get you out of here. All of. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell them for me?”nodded. I finished cutting her arms and legs free.stood and spoke rapidly to the girls, who all began. Brown came rushing into the chamber, tooklook at the girls, at me, and said, “Jesus Christ.”
“We’re getting them out.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Nope.”
“Aw, this has really gone to hell! We came here for, and we’re going home with them!”turned back to face me. “You came here for?”leaned over and nodded slowly.glanced away, a pained look coming over her face.
“He is very bad man.”
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“Yes, he is.”pursed her lips, glanced back at the girls, as ifit over, then said, “I know where he is...”the intelligence assets of the U.S. government hadunable to locate the fat man, in part because thethey gathered was being corrupted by Broncohis associates. Nevertheless, I would never, for the lifeme, bet that the location of my target would be spoon-to me by a teenaged girl who’d been taken prisoner.I reflect and calculate the odds of what had hap-, how I’d met Shilmani, how Hila had come to rec-me, what had happened to her and how she’d comelearn where Zahed was located, I could only blame fate.the merciless universe.if I hadn’t listened to her, if I’d just draggedout of the cave and gotten out of there, I would’vehad to deal with keeping Warris quiet—not the rest of it.
“Help me cut ’em free,” I told Brown. “Come on,on.”words escaped my lips, and not two seconds, the chamber quaked and dust fell from the ceiling.
“What the hell?” Brown gasped.
“Captain!” cried Hume. “I hear gunfire coming fromoutside! And mortars!”
“We have to move now, Scott!” added Warris.
“We’re coming! We’ve got some girls up here. They’redown. We’re getting them out!”
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Brown freed the girls, Hila told them where to go,one by one they took off running.
“They made us drink wine,” she told me as I cutgirl free. “They made us do things.”
“I know. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay. I am filthy. I am not a woman any-. I am a dog.”looked at her, grabbed her hand. “You’re not a dog.”
“But I can never go home.”started removing the gags from the remainingand reassuring them, while the guys kept scream-for me to come. The final two girls dashed off.
“All right, get them and Warris out of here. Ramirezthe rest of Bravo should be waiting for you,” I told.
“What about you?”lifted my chin to Hila. “She knows where Zahed is.”
“Boss, what if she’s wrong?”widened my gaze on Hila. “Are you sure?”gave an exaggerated nod. “I hate him. He wasfirst one to have me. I know where he is.”
“Oh my God,” Brown muttered under his breath.
“I’m going with her.”
“Not alone,” said Brown. “You fight with your buddy.”shoved my silenced pistol into Hila’s hand. “That’s. She’s my buddy.”looked at me, scared, the weight of the pistolher shoulder to droop.
“You’re crazy,” said Brown. “This is crazy!”
“Just listen to me, Marcus. I need you to protect
GH OS T RE CON. I need you to get him out. I’m worried about, you know that.”
“I know, boss. I won’t let Joey do anything stupid.”
“Good. ’Cause I’m betting Warris won’t talk.”
“Me, too. He owes us. Big-time.”
“All right, so when you get out, contact Gordon. Tellto track my chip. You’ll know where I am.”
“Will do.” He thrust out his hand. “See you soon,crazy mofo.”gave him a firm handshake. “Thank you, Marcus.”I turned to Hila. “Which way?”father raised three sons and a daughter, and my sisterwas unquestionably Daddy’s little girl. The oldwas a hardcore disciplinarian with us boys, but mycould get away with bloody murder. As a kid Inever understand his leniency toward her and wasjealous of it. As I got older, I didn’t begrudgesister anymore. In fact, it took my entire life for merealize that Dad was a cynic who simply needed myto remind him of all the beauty still left in the.wondered if Shilmani had felt likewise about Hila.she led me through the next tunnel, I wondered if’d be able to look Hila in the eye after what had hap-to her. I knew the culture. I knew what happenedgirls like her. But I didn’t want to believe that.held up my pistol, and I had my rifle at the ready, with the penlight attached. She led me down two
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tunnels, and we descended yet another ladder intosmall room with crates piled to the ceiling.
“Guns,” was all she said.
“So you came through here?” I asked.frowned a moment, then realized what I was ask-. “Yes, yes.”
“Zahed is here? In the mountain?”stopped and shook her head.
“No?”
“No.”
“Then where is he?”
“He is in Sangsar.”mouth fell open. “Aw, no. That’s no good. Whatyou think we’re going to do? Walk right down thisand into the village?”guess I had spoken too fast. She frowned in thought,finally said, “No, no. We don’t walk. We’ll run.”tugged my arm, but I stopped dead.
“We can’t go to Sangsar.”
“Yes, we’ll go!”
“How?”made a gesture with her hand. “Under...”
“You mean there’s a tunnel that leads all the way?”beamed at me.I was heading off to Sangsar, Brown, Hume, and, along with the group of girls, were rushing backthe tunnels, following the beacons we’d left.
GH OS T RE CONguys were not happy with my decision to free theand attempt to save them, but they obeyed orderslater told me they would’ve done the same thing. Itsickening to realize what’d been happening in there.had told them that my decision to search foralone was foolish and indicative of my poor judg-. Brown had told him that saving his sorry ass wasindicative of my poor judgment. I liked that.Hila and I kept moving, I reminded myself that, you could not generalize and say that all Talibanto rape young girls, but we could definitively stateZahed’s men had taken it upon themselves to estab-a terrible prison for them. The acts were inexcusablewhen I looked at Hila, even for just a second, Ito kill Zahed more than anything. He was, inmind, the symbol for all that was wrong with the, all that was wrong with the war. And my hatredhotter as she dragged me by the wrist and led methe next tunnel.emotions were all over the place at that moment.felt as though I’d been chasing the fat man all my life,soon there’d finally be closure, but then I worriedHila and imagined my own death, the gunshot to my, the throbbing pain, the blood seeping into my.passageways grew shorter, each ending abruptlyanother ladder that we took down, always down,it was clear we were descending the mountain frominside. A lantern lit the passage at each ladder, andencountered no resistance. I grew more at ease—
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at the end of the next passage we spotted a manup a ladder.fired at him first, the kickback of the pistol star-her. She hit him in the shoulder with the first, but the second went over his head and ricochetedthe wall.put two rounds in his chest, and he fell backwardthe ladder. I ran over there, checked below. No other. Thankfully, he’d been alone.wasn’t until I started back that I felt the pain in myand stopped, directed a second light down, and sawI’d been hit, probably from that ricocheting round.saw it, too, and started crying and pointing to, as if to say, It’s my fault.
“It’s okay,” I said. “Just caught me a little. See? Inout?”reached into my back pocket, where I kept a smallbag filled with antiseptic wipes and bandages. Ithe kit to her. “Fix me up. Quick,” I said.nodded and got to work, applying the antisepticthe bandage. The wound looked worse than it was, butstill hurt like a mother. When she was finished, I thankedand she grabbed me by the other arm. “This way.”climbed down the next ladder and found our-in a concrete drainage pipe that left me hunched. The pipe ran straight away for as far as I could see,I guessed that it led all the way under the villageand into Sangsar proper. I still couldn’t receive anysignals on the Cross-Com, so I just took it offshoved it in my hip pocket.
GH OS T RE CONpipe was littered with rocks and lined with a fineof sand, but there was certainly no water, so although’d described it as a drainage pipe, its primary use was: smuggling. There were both boot and tire tracks insand. They’d brought wheelbarrows into the pipe orwheeled carts to move their opium back and forth.had to get word of this passage back to higher, inevent I didn’t make it back. I’d thought bombingtunnels we’d found would help stop the attacks on, but we’d barely put a dent in Zahed’s clandes-highway. But this pipe, this could be the main, I thought.were losing our breath, and as we picked up theand continued on for meter after meter, I repeat-glanced over my shoulder to watch the light driftand the darkness consume the rest of the shaft.
“Are we getting closer?” I asked her.looked at me. “Close?”
“Zahed is here?” I asked.
“Soon,” she said.
WENTY-EIGHTwe had been considering a major offensive againstTaliban, they had, unsurprisingly, been thinkingthe same thing. And unbeknownst to us, they hadto launch their attack only a few hours after I’dmy team into the mountains. Call that ironic andtiming.gave them pause, however, was our placementthe Bradleys in the defile and the firing of that flare.simple diversion had changed the enemy’s entireplan. We later learned that they thought we’dtipped off, and that had sent Zahed into a state of. From what we could gather, he launched a half-offensive, committing only about half of his
GH OS T RE CONto the fight, while pulling the rest back to Sang-to help ensure his escape.I was unaware of those facts as Hila took methe concrete pipe. Had I known that Sangsarbe swarming with at least two, maybe three hun-of Zahed’s best trained fighters, I might’ve givendecision more thought.I was blithely unaware.Hila had assured me that the fat man kept onlyor three guards around him at all times.three hundred.ahead, my light finally picked out the edge of the, which led directly into another tunnel, one onlythree meters long.air was filled by other scents I couldn’t quite dis-: incense, cooked meat, burning candles, some-. And then I paused, glanced back at Hila. “Here?”raised an index finger, and her gaze turned up.nodded. The concrete pipe had led to a tunnel thatbelieved emptied into a basement.a gesture for her to remain behind me, I shiftedinto the tunnel, reached the edge, then hunkeredand slowly lifted my penlight.
“Whoa...” The word escaped my lips before I couldit.were in a basement all right, a huge one. Fifteen-high concrete walls rose around the perimeter, and Ithe depth at more than one hundred feet. Thehad been converted into a subterranean warehouse,
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long rows of opium bricks, crates of ammunitionguns, and more MREs, along with dozens andof wooden boxes whose contents were a mystery.shifted to one box and opened it to find a bagin English: ammonium nitrate fertilizer. I. Fertilizer for making bombs.the back of the basement rose a wooden staircaseup to a door half open, flickering light wedgingthe crack. When I looked back, Hila was rightme. She hadn’t held back like I’d asked.glanced up at the wooden planks and ceiling, listenedpeople shifted and creaked overhead. Hila’s breathinglouder. I leaned down, grabbed her wrist, and ledalong a row of opium bricks, then crouched down atback.
“Zahed is up there?”nodded.thought of the Predator, of somehow getting a signalto that controller, getting him to bomb the whole placewe escaped back through the drainage pipe. Simple.. The only problem was I couldn’t confirm that theman was up there. I wanted to see him for myself.
“Is it a house up there?”
“Yes. He stays in a big room.”
“All right.” I didn’t think I could get more out of her,she wanted to come with me.
“No,” I told her. “You stay here, be quiet, and waitme... okay?”looked about to cry.
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“Please...”
“Okay.”I stole away, shifting quickly from row to row ofand opium bricks, I asked myself, What the hell amdoing?door at the top of the staircase creaked open, andTaliban fighters came charging down the stairs with a. I tucked myself deeper into the crates and justthem jog through the basement and head straightthe tunnel. I looked far down the row at Hila, hiddentwo crates now. She’d heard them but she didn’t. Perfect. That kid had a lot of courage, all right.gave myself a once-over and tightened the shemaghmy face. I was about to step forward and mountstaircase when I thought better of it and shifted backmy spot. I was panting. What the hell had just hap-? Had I just chickened out? I wasn’t sure. I dugmy pocket, ripped down the shemaghagain, thenthe Cross-Com and gave the verbal commandactivate the device.monocle flickered, came to life, but the HUDno satellite signal. I was still too deep. I removedpocketed the unit, then took several long breaths. Imy magazine, my second pistol with silencer,ready to rip open my shirt to expose the web gearand the half dozen grenades I carried.more, the door above opened, and three morefighters came running down and dashed acrossbasement, on their way toward the tunnel.
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kept telling myself that if I waited any longer, the fatwould be gone. Either he was up there right nowhis bags, or maybe it was all for naught. Maybe’d already left., there was only one way to find out.arm was stinging again as I hustled up the stairs—reminder that getting killed was going to hurt. Oh,. I shivered and passed through the door.long hallway stretched out in both directions. A liv-room lay to the left, with tables, chairs, even a verylooking leather sofa and flat-screen TV mountedthe wall, all very posh despite the mud-brick walls.burning from wall sconces lit the pathway to my, where a large kitchen with bar and stools, againWestern, was set up beside another eating area.shouted behind me. I turned to him, a guymy age with a salt-and-pepper beard.asked me something, then asked me again.shook my head. He shoved me out of the way anddown the hall. I ran after him. “Wait!” I cried in. “I need to see Zahed!”he kept running. I slowed, reached the edge ofkitchen as something or someone moved behind me.whirled.stood there, pistol in one hand.
“I told you to stay down there!” I cried through a.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go see Zahed! I know!”
GH OS T RE CONgrabbed my wrist and tugged me toward the hall-ahead.grabbed her by the mouth, pulled her into the, then ducked down beneath the bar and stools. Iher over, my hand still wrapped around her mouth,said, “If they see you, they’ll kill you.”didn’t move.slowly removed my hand.
“You have to go back,” I told her, pointing downthe basement.shook her head.gestured to my eyes. “If they see you, they will kill.”
“I know what you said. I don’t care. I am dead already.my family. To everyone who knows me. Let me help. Let me get revenge against Zahed.”decision pained me. If I dragged her along, thewe were spotted we’d be accosted, maybe even. I could concoct some story, but I didn’t like that. I’t want her around. I couldn’t bear to see her get, not after what had already happened to her.told myself that if I could save her, maybe it allsomething. Maybe I wasn’t just a puppet whosewere being pulled by asinine politicians.she could save me time, get me to Zahed more. I would have to comb through the entire house.seemed to know exactly where he’d be.made the decision for me. I released my grip onat the sound of approaching men, and she boltedthe bar before I could grab her.
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men passed, heading toward the basement door,she ran out into the hall, waving to me.it was the middle of the night in a small town deep indesert of southern Afghanistan, and I was chasing agirl carrying a pistol through a terrorist’s. If I started a conversation like that, would youme? I wouldn’t believe me.ran all the way down the hall, made an abrupthand turn, and when I followed, I found her stopped, raising her pistol at another man coming toward us.shot him right in the heart. As he fell, she ran past, down another hall with doors lining both sides. Iindeed crazy. I’d turned the girl into a cold-blooded; then again, maybe Zahed was responsible for that.we ran I couldn’t help but realize this wasn’t abut a mansion, perhaps the biggest place in thetown, although you wouldn’t know it when look-on Sangsar from above. The buildings were so closelythat it was hard to tell where one ended and thebegan. The doors here were ornate as well, heavy, deeply carved. The fat man had spared no expense.reached a door at the end, pushed through it,ran inside.called after her, reached the doorway, turned intoroom, and found her at the far end, running towardwindow, a real window, which was rare to find.were in a massive bedroom with a four-poster, heavy furniture, and yet another flat-screen TV.
GH OS T RE CONwas like a room in a five-star hotel that had been builta neighborhood of utter squalor. Very surreal. I’m sureof the village didn’t have electricity, but Zaheddid; either that or he ran his TV off a generator.rushed to the window to find Hila pointing. “There!”cried. “There!”a long, tree-lined courtyard, past fig trees andwall covered in rose bushes, were the silhouettes ofmen standing near a wrought-iron gate.of them had to be the fat man. He was tall, six feetat least, and huge, more than four hundred pounds, I.of luggage were lined on the walkway beside. They were waiting to be picked up.it. I tried the window. Locked. I couldn’t findway to open it! I turned back—when I did, a man was standing in the door withAK pointed at us. “What’re you doing?” he asked in.shifted in front of Hila but didn’t raise my rifle.
“The infidels come from the basement,” I tried to say.man took a step forward and frowned. Aw, no. I’ve made a mistake. Maybe I’d told him his mothera whore, I wasn’t sure.I could react, another man jogged up besidefirst and began screaming and tugging at his buddy.stole a look out the window.car had rolled up outside.first guy shouted at me again. I threw myself toside, raised my rifle, and fired a salvo into him and
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buddy, no silencer, just me and the AK dishing outloud and clear. Both went down, but the first guystarted firing—Hila let out a scream.both men fell, I clambered up, shouldered my, and rushed to Hila, who’d fallen onto her back andclutching her side. I immediately pulled away herand saw that a round had pierced the right side ofabdomen, no exit wound.chanced another look out the window. The wrought-gate was open. The three men were fighting over, their voices raised as they rushed to get incar while two others hurried to load the luggage.
“This hurts,” said Hila. “Please. Can you help?”
“It’s not that bad. You’ll be okay.”clutched my hand. “Please. I need help.”
“But I need to go,” I told her. “He’s outside. He’sto get away...”grabbed my hand even tighter as tears welled ineyes.
WENTY-NINE’d thought Hila would beg me to stay with her, but sheher gaze and said, “Okay. Get him. Then cometo help me.”
“I will.”
“Okay.”understood now. She had wanted to die, but ironi-the gunshot now gave her the will to live. I draggedbehind the bed, out of view from the doorway, andI grabbed the pistol I’d given her, tucked it into my, and bolted to my feet. I seized a pillow fromfour-poster bed, then braced the pillow in front offace. With a running start, I launched into the air andout a string of curses as I crashed through the win-and landed in a shower of glass on the dirt below.
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three figures ran toward the car now, a black, probably fitted with bulletproof glass. I cameup with the pistol in my hand and shot the twoloading luggage.driver opened his door and raised a pistol. I shot, and then, as I sprinted toward the gate, I got myclear look at the men:.Asian buddy “Mike.”the fat man himself, decked out in silk robes andturban and with a beard that splayed across his. He wore big gold and diamond rings, and whenfaced me, he frowned for a second as both BroncoMike reached down to draw weapons.
“Unh-uh,” I said, tugging down my shemagh.
“Aw, Joe, I can’t believe you’re this stupid,” said Bronco,raising his palms now. “Didn’t you get your new? We got you pulled off this job. Finally...”
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