Hell's Choir (NICHOLAS SHARP THRILLER SERIES Book 3) by Mark Mannock

Author:Mark Mannock [Mannock, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Shotfire Books
Published: 2020-11-05T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

We weren’t out of the woods yet, but now we had an opportunity. By the time we reached the vehicles, Jumaa had the camouflage netting off two of the vehicles.

“Jumaa, get everyone into the Land Rover and the long-based Jeep next to it. It’ll be tight.”

I ran around to the front of both cars. The Land Rover had its keys still in the ignition, and it took me all of five seconds to hot-wire the Jeep.

“Where’s Blake?” I asked.

“Once we got here safely, he went back to help. I assumed he was with you.”

“Shit,” it appeared the vice president wasn’t much good at following orders either.

“Into the car now, everyone,” I yelled.

“What about Blake?” asked Greatrex.

“You guys get going, take these people out of here. I’ll go back for him.”

“I’m coming.”

“No, you need to drive, now move the hell out of here.”

Damn it all.

Suddenly, a rattling spray of bullets pounded the Jeep’s tailgate. I whirled, firing a burst blindly into the darkness. I tried to fire again, but all I heard was the click of an empty chamber.

Like ghosts in the blackness, four figures appeared out of the shadows. They all had automatic rifles pointing at the women and children.

“Put your weapons down now.”

It was Atha Riek.

We’d come so close.

There wasn’t much to say. No negotiation would get us out of this, we had no choice but to drop our weapons. I glanced behind me. The youngsters were crying, their mothers staring helplessly at the terrorist who had been their captor for so long.

If I was going to die at this moment, it wasn’t going to be without a fight, but I just couldn’t figure out where to begin.

The man on Riek’s left carried a heavy wound in his shoulder. I hoped I’d done that. The two terrorists on his right looked unscathed. From his furrowed brow and twisted grin, it was clear Riek was pissed.

“Nicholas, please comfort that young girl to your left.” Jumaa’s voice sounded more agitated than conciliatory.

About a foot behind me a small girl, around six years old, was sobbing. I appreciated Jumaa’s intent, but I didn’t want to make the child into a target any more than she already was. Then I figured it out. Nicholas Sharp: slow on the uptake.

I edged to my left. Before I had taken a second step, Jumaa pulled the knife from his belt and hurled it. The blade hit Atha Riek in the stomach, blood pouring from the wound as he lurched backward. The terrorist’s surprised offsiders gaped before reacting.

The big fella had also foreseen Jumaa’s intentions; before the two terrorists on Riek’s right got off a shot, Greatrex dived to the ground, swept up his gun and cut them both down in a burst of automatic fire. I heard the familiar hollow click as he ran out of ammunition. It didn’t matter. I lunged forward and grabbed Riek’s remaining man in a headlock, punching into his wounded shoulder repetitively. Within a few seconds, the pain rendered him unconscious.

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