Target Eleven (The Spy Game—Book #11) by Jack Mars

Author:Jack Mars [Mars, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2024-12-06T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Jacob knew he was in trouble the instant he saw ChingisBeshimov come through the door. The Kyrgyz let out a roar and pulled out a pair of UZIs.

Jacob had dealt with Chingis before, and had a sneaking suspicion that “Overkill” was his middle name. That guy was going to spray the entire break room with bullets, taking out him, Jana, Boucher, and probably a few of the guards as well.

Chingis didn’t care. He had a bloodlust for Jacob. Something to do with that knife scar Jacob had given him across his face a few years back. He held a grudge for some reason. An unhealthy obsession. Maybe he should get therapy.

Jacob decided that getting sprayed with bullets wasn’t how he wanted to finish the day, so as the man mountain drew his guns, Jacob tossed a chair at his head. That was all the therapy Chingis would get from him.

The chair crashed against the killer’s skull, making him stagger back. Any other man would have been floored, but not ChingisBeshimov. Jacob threw himself across the room and tackled the guy.

That did the trick. They both went down, the sound of the UZIs going off jabbing in his ears. They stitched twin lines in the ceiling, taking out one of the fluorescent lights and sending a snowfall of particles from the ceiling panels.

As soon as they both hit the floor, Jacob shifted and got his legs onto the Kyrgyz’s arms, pinning them. The psycho didn’t stop shooting, though, and one of the guards went down with a bullet in the foot.

Jacob heard the sounds of fighting all around him, the snap of a pistol shot, and the crash of furniture.

He didn’t have time to look. Chingis bucked like an unbroken stallion and nearly threw him off. Jacob held on for dear life, keeping his legs on the guy’s arms and clamping down with both hands on his opponent’s wrists to keep him from maneuvering his guns to point at him.

This wasn’t going well. While he managed to keep from getting cut apart by a pair of UZIs, the Kyrgyz bucked and thrashed. It was all Jacob could do to keep him on the floor. He couldn’t disarm him; he couldn’t even move or look away. He was a sitting duck to Ibn Omar or any of the guards.

Just then, one of the guards fell on him. Not tackled, but fell, screaming and holding his face from some blow by one of Jacob's colleagues.

That did the worst possible thing—it knocked Jacob right off of Chingis. With startling speed, Chingis whipped around, got on his knees, and aimed both UZIs at Jacob’s head.

Jacob pushed the guard at Chingis and the man jerked a little dance as the bullets meant for Jacob hit the guard instead.

Jacob rolled to the side and lashed out with a foot, connecting perfectly on the Kyrgyz killer’s chin.

That knocked him silly. Jacob didn’t flatter himself, though. Even that hard of a kick wouldn’t take out a man like Chingis for long.

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