Nemesis by Tim Stevens

Author:Tim Stevens
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: CIA, stories with twists, action thriller, spy thriller, Mystery & Suspense, conspiracy thriller, Fiction & Literature, Military, action adventure, espionage thriller, Thrillers, Action Suspense, Terrorism, Crime, Espionage
Publisher: Tim Stevens
Published: 2015-03-01T00:00:00+00:00

Fifteen

Purkiss murmured, ‘Where?’ and Saburova said the front door and he said, ‘Stay back.’

He rose to his feet, Asher moving swiftly in tandem and staring at him.

Donovan returned Purkiss’s stare.

Purkiss said, ‘Two men at the door.’

He was at Donovan in two strides and barrelling into him and sending him backwards into the armchair he’d risen from. He felt Donovan’s sinews tense, his arms come up and his torso twist in the automatic defensive posture that had been drilled into him over gruelling years of training. But the momentum had carried him back and the chair tipped over and Purkiss was on him with his forearm across his throat.

‘How many out there?’

He relaxed the pressure just enough that Donovan could speak.

The man’s voice emerged as a throaty hiss: ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

Purkiss had tried to bring down Donovan with the minimum of noise but it evidently hadn’t been enough, because the door to the living room swung open and the two guards from earlier came through with handguns drawn, shouting, ‘Back off, back off.’

Purkiss rolled off Donovan and dragged the older man across him where he crouched and slid an arm across his throat once more, this time from behind. He kept the man’s head in front of his so that just his eye peered past.

One of the guards was advancing on Asher, the other towards Purkiss and Donovan on the floor behind the overturned chair. Both were professionals, walking side-on with their firearms held in the Weaver stance.

The window behind Asher exploded in a screeching cavalcade of glass an instant before the sound of the shot rang through the room.

Purkiss saw Asher dive and roll and come up, fragments of glass glittering in his hair and on the shoulders of his suit jacket, and he saw Asher too had a gun, not the .22 Purkiss had taken off him but a spare he must have had in the car somewhere, a 9 mm pistol of some make. Asher pressed himself against the wall beside the window, out of range of whoever was outside.

Asher had his gun trained on the security guard nearest to him. He shouted: ‘Drop it. Drop it and tell your friends outside to back off.’

The double thump and crack of two shots in quick succession came through the broken window. Purkiss braced himself, but the shots seemed to be confined to outside.

Purkiss hauled himself up to a standing position, lifting Donovan with him so that the man hung straight in front of him. The security guard held his aim, squinting down the sight of his gun, the barrel trained on Purkiss’s eye.

Purkiss said, ‘If you shoot, I’ll know it. In the instant before you pull the trigger, you’ll give yourself away. I’ll move your boss’s head a fraction to the right, and you’ll put a bullet through his head. Don’t risk it. Don’t.’

Without waiting for the guard to reply, Purkiss hissed in Donovan’s ear: ‘How many outside?’

Donovan emitted a choked noise, half cry, half cough, and Purkiss eased the pressure a couple of millimetres.

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