Samurai Game (GhostWalkers #10)(98)
Author: Christine Feehan

Bile rose in his throat. He shoved down the anger. It wasn’t as if this was the first time he’d seen such things. If he left them there, they were going to die in the ensuing explosions. If he tried to rescue them, he was putting not only himself but his entire team in added danger. Swearing under his breath, he made his decision. If one of them made a sound, he’d kill them both and then do his job. But if he could, he’d get them out of there.

He took a breath, chose his spot, and moved with blurring, wrenching speed. He found himself in the corner, crouching behind a rusty water barrel, just a few feet from the girls. He made the smallest of movements, just enough to attract the nearest one’s attention. He’d already planned his move if she screamed. He’d be across the room, slashing the two men’s throats before he turned back to the girls. The compound had to be used to them screaming for a moment or two.

He had one finger to his lips, but he didn’t hold out much hope. He knew he looked like another monster raiding their farm, killing their families, and subjecting them to a life of abuse and rape. The girl nearest him turned her head, her eyes widening until she looked as if only the whites of her eyes were showing. He shook his head, keeping his finger over his lips.

She swallowed hard and nodded, turning her head to press her lips against the other girl’s ear. She whispered. The other girl jerked, her gaze jumping to him. Immediately she began to shake. For a moment time stood still while she battled for control. He willed her to be silent. She swallowed several times, and pressed her lips tightly together.

Now, he had no choice at all. He had to get the women out when they ignited the thermite, not before. He couldn’t risk the other members of his team. He took a breath and moved, a knife in each hand. He was on the men before either girl could blink. He slammed the two knives simultaneously into the base of their skulls, severing spinal cords and killing them. Neither man ever saw him. He knelt to plant charges on the radios and added a few more to the structural beams holding the hut up for good measure.

Gator’s voice came into his head. Charges set, ready to drop thermite.

Kyle was next. Charges set, ready to drop thermite.

Sam sighed. Compromised. Cleaning up the mess. Go. I’ll catch up.

Not what I want to hear, Knight, Ryland snapped.

Go. Get it done. I’m right behind you, Sam assured.

Ryland answered. Charges set. Drop thermite and fall back to the ORP.

Kadan’s voice slipped into their heads. Reaper One, this is Reaper Two. Target neutralized with extreme prejudice. Reaper Two en route to PZ.

Ryland answered him. Solid, copy, Reaper Two, Reaper One oscar mike—on the move.

The thermite triggered and all hell broke loose. From his window, Sam could see the explosion killed one of the guards and brought the entire compound to life. Rebels flooded into the vehicle holding area, trying to figure out what was happening. The charges on the vehicles and those in the munitions dump detonated together, sending a giant clap of thunder reverberating through the jungle and shaking the earth.

Sam slit the ropes binding the two girls fast, yanking the two of them to their feet, and indicating they had to leave fast, to stay behind him. He went out the door, triggering the thermite as he did, which only gave him two to four seconds. The two girls stayed close on his heels as the communications building lifted up off the ground. Wood, mud, and debris flew everywhere. Vehicles shattered. Munitions detonated, sending shrapnel in all directions. The flames, concussion, and flying chunks of white hot steel tore into flesh, searing many and leaving the few survivors too stunned to do anything. The two girls held hands, one moaning low and constantly, but they ran, barefoot, half naked, staying very close to Sam.

Reaper One, this is lost Knight, oscar mike—on the move. Sam reported to Ryland.

The GhostWalkers raced away from the war zone in two man teams. Sam used the cover of the chaos and mayhem of the explosions to make it into the trees. He stepped back to indicate the girls should run—and they did, in the direction opposite the one he wanted to go. He could only assume they had someone left to run to. He had to hightail it out of there before someone assumed leadership. He’d taken two steps when a bullet whistled past his ear and he heard it hit something solid. He dropped, spinning, just in time to see a rebel go down behind him.

Haul ass, Tucker advised.

Once everyone was back at the objective rally point, they moved out in single file, hurrying as fast as the jungle permitted, staying in cover, absolutely silent while the compound behind them roared with orange and red flames, lighting the night, heading for their pickup zone and their ride home. They were exhausted by the time they made it to the appointed clearing.

Ryland spoke into the radio while the others took up guard positions. “Valhalla, do you copy?” There was ominous silence. He waited a few heartbeats and tried again. “Valhalla, do you copy?”

Absolute silence. No static. No response. His eyes met Kadan’s. “Kadan, try your radio. Mine doesn’t seem to be working.”

The men exchanged uneasy looks.

“Valhalla, this Reaper, over. Valhalla, do you copy, over.”

Again there was that ominous silence. Adrenaline flooded their bodies as realization dawned.

Ryland shook his head. “The satellite link is down.”

“That can’t be,” Gator said. “Those f**kers burned us.”

“Forbes,” Sam said. “Duncan Forbes. I should have killed him while I had the chance. He went running back to his master and Whitney pulled the plug on us.”

Ryland scowled. “We were afraid this would happen and we’ve got a backup plan. It’s just going to take us a little longer to get home. Sam, contact Azami.” He sent the men a small smile. “She’s got a freighter off the coast waiting for us and a company jet in Turkey. We’ll make it home,” he assured.

“The coast is a long way off,” Kyle said, “and there’s bound to be a few really pissed off rebels looking for us.”

“We’ve been here before,” Ryland reminded with a small, resigned shrug.

Sam used a small radio Azami had given him. “Firefly, Firefly, do you copy? This is Burning Man, over.”

“This is Firefly. Burning Man, we have you five by five, over.”

“Coming your way, over,” Sam said. “It’s a go.”

“Copy that, Burning Man, it’s a go. Waiting on you, over.”

“Give me that,” Ryland held out his hand for the tiny radio. He even snapped his fingers, impatience on his face.