Nick picked out three more items from the equipment bag. “He sure didn’t. Be back soon.”
At the entrance, Nick opened the door from the side, bursts from what sounded like AK47’s blasted the door and door frame. The moment the firing stopped, Nick went into a shooter’s crouch at the door’s side, catching one of the guards with a full burst from his MP5. Holding position, Nick smiled. He knew exactly what would happen next. The other guard would launch out to empty his AK47 at the door. Seconds later, the other guard did exactly that. The MP5 burst nearly decapitated the guard. Nick ran through the opening and down the hall to where another door led to the main warehouse space. He immediately took fire from a line of crates on his right.
“Hey Ben, you in there buddy? C’mon out. Let’s talk.”
“We know about your plan to kill me!” Sahraoui’s voice came from behind the crates.
“I’ll make you a deal. You and your buddies come on out. I’ll shoot all of you in the head. It will be over in an instant. If you stay where you are and keep shooting at me I will torture you for a while first. What’ll it be?” Nick snorted amusement as the curses rained down on him in at least three languages, followed by another barrage of AK47 fire.
Nick threw one of the military flash-bangs on the other side of the lined crates. He ducked down with hands over ears. The aftermath of screams triggered the second flash-bang throw. Nick then ran in a zigzag pattern to where the men had been hiding. They were all still alive but in various stages of distress. Sahraoui appeared to be in the best shape. He had dived between two crates when the first flash-bang exploded. Sahraoui rocked back and forth, his hands clamped tightly at the sides of his head. Nick executed the two guards with a burst to each of their heads. Nick walked over and kicked Sahraoui in the side. He jackknifed to cover the new pain.
“Hi Ben. It’s me, the nasty old Nick McCarty. You were right to try and kill me. You can take some solace in the fact if you had hired a real sniper, you might have succeeded. As it is now, you made everything messy. I will have to make things super messy now so as to confuse the authorities called to the scene. I have an idea. It’s not very good one, but what the hell, at least it may make some of the locals shake their heads. I know you can’t hear anything yet, can you?”
Sahraoui comically shook his head no even though he was not looking at Nick, proving he could still hear. Nick kicked him in the ribs.
“Who tipped you off?”
“Sen…Senator Cameron! I…I called her because of Omar Fontaine’s death. When I told her about our… scheduled meeting, she sent me your picture, and told me who you were. She said… it would probably be you coming to kill me.”
Sahraoui kept rolling around in agony. Nick restrained him with plastic ties, hogtying his bound wrists and ankles together at his back while wishing he had Senator Cameron there too. He left him and went to the entrance, waving a hand first so his companions would know not to take pot shots at him. Nick opened the back door to the vehicle again, noting Clyde looked better than he had.
“Hi guys. Any movement on the roof, Ken?”
“I thought I saw him drape a hand over the ledge, probably to pull himself upright. It dropped off and I haven’t seen him since. He did not exit the building at the front.”
“How are we at unwanted visitors? I had to use a couple flash-bangs to make the scene safe for approach.”
“Nothing so far,” Ken answered. “The warehouse line on this end appears to be deserted which I imagine was their plan. What do you have in mind?”
“I need a plausible goofy scene I can leave for a mystery. I’ll have to go collect my buddy on the rooftop to be a participant. Can you hang in there for a while longer, Clyde?”
“I’m good. My head hurts like hell, but other than that I’m five by five.”
“I’ll be as quick as I can. Say something, Phil. You don’t look so good.”
“I hate you.”
“That’s the spirit.” Nick ran across the street to the building.
At the entrance, he proceeded with caution, clearing his way through the empty building with care. Nick checked the elevator but there wasn’t any power to the building or elevator. He then ran up the steps, only to halt in surprise at the second floor landing. A sweaty, wounded man with a Kevlar vest in disarray lie prone on the cement landing, gasping for breath. Nick checked the man over, disarming him of the handgun he had in a belt holster. The more serious shoulder wound and slight wound at his armpit still oozed blood but were bleeding at a slow rate due to the clothing.
“It sure was nice of you to drag your ass down this far, pal. I appreciate it.”