Page 64 of The Fourth Option
One of the men on the tailgate raised his AKM.
Walker’s hand flew to the Glock, indexed the grip, cleared leather, and fired three times at the AKM-armed man on the tailgate. All struck center mass. He pivoted and went for the second target, who was now scrambling from the rear of the truck, fumbling with his weapon. Walker fired again, hitting the man in his chest, neck, and head.
“Get down!” Walker screamed at Naji.
The leader had moved to the far side of the truck with surprising quickness, stuffing the cash in his tunic while shouting orders in Urdu.
A driver opened the door, stepped out, and raised a Kalashnikov.
Walker crouched and fired as Staub’s rifle erupted behind them, sending rounds through the Land Cruiser’s window and door, shattering the glass and punching through the thin steel, taking the man in his stomach and chest. He fell to the ground in a heap. Walker finished him with a head shot.
“Move!” Staub yelled from the rear vehicle.
Walker grabbed Naji by the arm and hauled him to his feet as Staub’s rounds tore through the Land Cruiser. The leader tried to run up an embankmentbehind it, but took six rounds of 5.56 in his back. He continued to claw his way up as two more of Staub’s rounds caught him in the head.
Walker could hear the voice on the radio and didn’t need to speak Urdu to understand what was being said, but there was no one left to answer.
He heard the Montero approach, engine racing.
“Naji, let’s get to the truck,” Walker urged.
Naji stumbled and fell. Walker was hauling him to his feet when the unmistakable shriek of an RPG ripped through the air overhead. The rocket-propelled grenade nicked the top of the Mitsubishi’s roof like a stone skipping on a pond, then slammed into a boulder on the far side of the road, detonating on impact.
Where the fuck did that come from?
Gripping Naji’s arm, Walker yanked him toward their vehicle. They had to get off the X. They had to move. Hitting a moving target was much more difficult than a stationary one.
“Go, go!” Walker yelled at Staub as he passed in front of the approaching Montero, catching Rina’s eyes behind the burqa as she looked past him to her stranded daughter in the Hilux, the eyes a mix of terror and rage.
Get to the truck. Get to my rifle.
The sound of the second RPG was more sickening than the first. It came from the outcropping above them. It had targeted the Hilux, the truck with Zahra inside.
Walker was only two steps into his sprint when the RPG hit.
The warhead impacted just in front of the driver’s-side door and detonated with an intense flash followed by an instantaneous plume of black smoke that engulfed the front portion of the vehicle, the shock wave and rapid combustion of gases throwing the hood skyward.
Zahra.
Walker turned and dropped to a knee. He caught sight of movement in the rocks above and returned fire with the pistol. The slide locked to the rear as he heard Staub’s rifle pick up cover from just outside the SUV. He pulled the Glock into his workspace and pressed the magazine release with his thumb, stripping the magazine. His hand continued to the pouch on the left side of his belt, grabbing a full one and slamming it home. He then pulled back on the slide to release it and chamber a round.
Get to Zahra.
He heard Naji scream his daughter’s name as the older man scrambled to his feet and stumbled toward the wreckage. Walker saw movement from the back side of his truck. Zahra had escaped the vehicle and was running toward her father.
There is a distinct difference between the sound of an AK-type rifle and the larger-caliber PKM belt-fed machine gun.
It was the man behind the general-purpose machine gun who took Naji’s life.
The first rounds fell short, eating into the hard-packed dirt between Walker and his source, then adjusted. The first round caught Naji in the leg when he was mere feet from his daughter. As Walker ran, he watched Naji stumble, the projectiles taking him in the hip and lower back and working their way up the right side of his spine, neck, and finally his head. He was dead before he crashed atop his young daughter.
Staub’s rifle picked up again, sending rounds up at their assailants, providing cover fire as Walker slid to a stop in the dirt and rolled the rug salesman over.
Zahra was still, and for a moment Walker thought she was dead too. There was blood trickling out of one ear and her face was dirty and dark from the explosion. Her eyes blinked. She was in shock.
Walker threw his hands under her neck and legs, scooping her from the ground and sprinting to Staub’s vehicle as his partner continued to send rounds into enemy positions in the rocks above.
He threw open the right rear door and pushed Zahra in with her sister, jumping in after her.
