The Target

There was a stout wooden table that they immediately overturned, putting Eleanor and her children behind it.

 

They could all hear the gun battle taking place around them. There were screams, and the zings of bullets missing, and then the thuds of bullets hitting and then bodies falling.

 

Claire was now hysterical.

 

Tommy simply seemed paralyzed.

 

Eleanor looked at Robie; she was scared, but when she spoke her voice was firm. “How do we get my children safely out of here, Agent Robie?”

 

Reel was surveying the staircase. She had already reloaded and she’d also taken pistols from the slain agents. She flipped a spare to Robie.

 

Robie said, “We’re working on it, ma’am. We will do our best.”

 

He tried the walkie-talkie three times but no one answered.

 

Eleanor looked at him in disbelief. “But that means…” she began, shooting a worried glance at her daughter, who was still sobbing uncontrollably.

 

Robie nodded and said quietly, “They’re all gone.”

 

He punched 911 on his phone. It just rang. “They must be swamped with calls,” he concluded.

 

He looked at Claire and Tommy.

 

“Tommy?” The boy didn’t look up.

 

“Wolverine! You with me?”

 

He looked at Robie and gave a small nod.

 

Reel said, “Claire? Claire? Hey, Stevie Nicks! Listen up.”

 

Claire gulped, stopped sobbing, caught her breath, and finally looked at her.

 

Reel ran her gaze along the three of them. “We can’t sugarcoat this. The situation is bad. We’ve got some cover here. And we’ve got some weapons. We don’t know how many there are out there. But there’s got to be more of them than there are of us.” She looked at Robie and then continued. “But we are here with you and we will stay with you the whole way. To get to you, they have to go through us. Okay?”

 

The three slowly nodded.

 

“Now stay down behind the table.”

 

A few seconds later, three shots rang out and a man tumbled down the stairs and came to rest at the bottom.

 

Robie looked over to see Reel lowering her weapon, smoke still rising off the muzzle.

 

She said, “He was trying to be quiet, but didn’t quite manage it.”

 

Eleanor said, “I don’t hear any sirens.”

 

“The police force here consists of about thirty sworn officers,” said Reel. “There were ten assigned to your detail. They might already all be dead. The other side has MP5s, which can do a lot of damage in a short period of time. And pistols are pretty much useless against them. The rest of the cops might not be here yet.”

 

Robie looked around the room and was also listening for footfalls from above. The ceiling was thick. He didn’t think the other side could fire through it. They would have to come down the stairs. But they had already sent one man in and they knew how that had worked out. Robie and Reel had the advantage here because of the curved staircase. Their enemies couldn’t attack them en masse or straight on. The curve allowed Robie and Reel to fire before the attackers could line up their shots.

 

They suddenly heard a loud bang from upstairs and then people screamed and then there was gunfire. And then more screams. And more gunfire.

 

And then silence.

 

And then they heard voices. But the words were not English.

 

“Shit,” muttered Reel.

 

She looked at Robie. His gaze was on a shelf in the corner.

 

On the shelf was a stack of old clothes. She once more glanced at Robie, who nodded.

 

Reel ran and grabbed some of the clothes. She flipped out her knife and started cutting them up.

 

“What are you doing?” asked Eleanor.

 

“Getting us some protection,” Robie answered.

 

“But those won’t stop bullets,” said Eleanor.

 

When Reel was done they worked the small strips of cloth into their ears and then tied other pieces that Reel had fashioned in the size and shape of kerchiefs around their necks. They helped Eleanor and the kids do the same.

 

“What are these for?” asked Tommy.

 

“Flash-bangs,” answered Reel. “That’s what we just heard. They’re really loud and the light flash is blinding. And there’s a lot of smoke. The other side obviously has them.”

 

“They’re used to disorient,” added Robie. “And they do that job well.”

 

They heard more shots come from upstairs and then a number of footfalls.

 

Robie and Reel eyed each other and then pushed Eleanor and the kids flat to the floor. “Cover your eyes and nose with the cloth and put your hands over your ears. And stay down.”

 

Robie and Reel took up their positions, each with one hand on their kerchiefs to pull them up quickly. Only they wouldn’t have much time to recover and return the fire that was surely going to follow the flash-bangs. But then they didn’t have any other options.

 

They heard the door open and then down they came.

 

Not one flash-bang or two.

 

There were three of them.

 

Robie and Reel hit the floor a second before the trio of explosives detonated. The combined sound was deafening, blowing right through the bits of cloth pushed into their ears, and the hands that covered those ears couldn’t do much to deaden the noise. The smoke penetrated right through the flimsy cloth and into their mouths, noses, and lungs. And the flashes of light were like looking into the sun even though they were staring at the floor.

 

Eleanor and her children screamed and then all three passed out.

 

By the time Robie and Reel staggered to their feet, coughing and sickened by the blasts, smoke, and light, they were surrounded and outgunned.

 

MP5s against pistols.

 

North Koreans wanting bloody revenge.

 

It was over.