Moscow by Ty Patterson

Author:Ty Patterson [Patterson, Ty]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Three Aces Publishing
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

58

‘MASKS ON!’ Zeb roared as he stamped on the gas. ‘Doesn’t he have a protection team?’

‘There were two men in his car, including his driver.’ Meghan slipped on her balaclava and tucked her hair beneath it. ‘But no other vehicle followed his Merc.’

‘Twelve shooters,’ Zeb counted. ‘Bear—’

‘Yeah, we’ll stay back. Provide covering fire.’

‘And I’ll be your secret weapon.’ Broker peered out through the sliding window between the cab and the rear of the van.

Zeb honked and brought the van to a sliding stop several feet away from the gunmen, who were firing at the Mercedes. Some of them looked up at his approach. A shooter pointed his arm at them and turned to train his weapon on them.

AK74s. They all have the same weapons.

Zeb dove out, rolling on the ground. A round spat in front of him. Another whistled over his head, and then his Glock was to his eye, front sight on a straight line to the shooter. He triggered. The gun bucked in his hand and kicked up again as he fired a one-two burst that spun the shooter around and dropped him.

‘No cops in sight,’ Broker said calmly. ‘No sirens. It’s as if they know what’s going down and they’re keeping away. Traffic has stopped.’

Zeb rolled towards the van and squeezed tight as the attackers spun around to combat the new threat.

He looked beneath the Mercedes, aimed at the legs in front of them and shot. A body fell and jerked when his round punched through the man’s chest.

He snatched a glance backwards when the chatter of HKs filled the air. Bwana, Bear, Chloe and Roger, using the doors of their van as cover, raining death on the shooters.

‘BACK!’ he heard one of the attackers shout, and the survivors stumbled to their cars, but the hail of bullets got them.

Zeb got to a crouch cautiously. None of the bodies were facing him. Even if they’re alive, they’ll have to turn to aim. That gave him the advantage.

He crabwalked, gun at the ready. Checked the first shooter. Dead. As was the second one.

He saw movement from inside the car. Pushkin’s wide-eyed face at the window, his bodyguard holding down his shoulder.

Zeb heard the slither of feet on concrete and threw himself down just as a shooter sprang from the front of the Mercedes, yelling, firing, and his shots went high in the air when his Glock’s rounds punched him back, and his body shuddered and jerked when Zeb’s friends fired at him.

Zeb looped wide, glancing down at the bodies, kicking away the AKs until he could see in front of Pushkin’s car and could confirm no more shooters posed a threat.

‘Clear,’ he said, at which Bear, Bwana, Roger and Chloe retreated into their van.

He tapped Pushkin’s window, which rolled down.

‘Don’t say my name,’ he warned. ‘There will be people recording this on their mobiles. GUVD will be able to lip-read from their videos. Where is your protection team?’

‘I didn’t need one for today.’ The pakhan’s voice was strong, unafraid.

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