A barrage of gunfire split the air above the SUV. Bullets riddled the rear of the car, and the driver cried out. He ran in front of the headlights and jumped for cover behind the front right wheel. The driver was holding his stomach with one hand, but his pistol remained in his other. The moonlight was bright enough for Triggs to see the pain on his pinched face. A moment later, his head slumped forward onto his chest. Triggs had no way to know if he was dead or simply unconscious, but what she did know was that she needed to help her son. There were an unknown number of assailants and only the two of them left. She duckwalked to the driver and grabbed his pistol. She ejected the magazine and checked how many rounds were left.
Six.
She pulled the slide back just a touch to see if there was a round already in the chamber. It was too dark to be sure, so she didn’t chance it. She much preferred to lose a round than to pull the trigger on an empty chamber. She reinserted the magazine and racked the slide back, chambering a new round. She risked a look over the hood, only to feel something bite into her shoulder. The force of the impact spun her around, and she fell to the ground, dropping her pistol. She felt as if she’d been kicked by a horse. The edges of her vision were going black, excruciating pain radiating from her shoulder. She sobbed for breath, fighting off unconsciousness.
I’ve been shot, she thought. She hadn’t even seen where the shot had come from, and for some unknown reason, she found that to be so unfair.
“Mom!” Max shouted in horror, bringing her back to reality.
“I’m okay, just a flesh wound,” she called out, knowing that wasn’t the case. Never in her life had she been in such pain. Her right arm was dead and useless. She felt hot blood running down the length of her arm as she staggered to her knees. Her head was spinning.
“Go this way,” her son shouted at her. He seemed angry at her for some reason.
She looked at him. He was pointing toward the brightly lit Baha Mar resort two miles to the northeast of their position.
“Go, I’ll cover you.”
“No, I’m staying—”
“Goddamn it, Mom! Just go!” he yelled. “Go! I’m right behind you.”
What else could she do? She had no weapon, her right arm was as stiff as a tree trunk, and Max had promised he’d be right behind her. She took off toward the resort, doing her best to stay in the shadows, where it would be more difficult to see her. After a minute, she looked back, surprised at how little distance she had put between herself and the SUV.
“Max!” she called out, not seeing him. “Max!” It had been at least a few seconds since she’d last heard gunshots.
Suddenly, a small white burst flared in the night, followed by a brilliant white exhaust plume. She knew instantly what it was. RPG. Her heart sank as she helplessly watched the rocket-propelled grenade scream toward the SUV. There was a flash of red-and-yellow light as the grenade hit its target.
Max!
A tick later, she felt the shock wave of the explosion against her chest. She was pushed back, the air knocked out of her lungs. She tripped on a root and fell backward, knocking her head on a rock. Winded, she lay there for a minute or two, numb.
Get up! Get up! Triggs urged herself. She forced herself to sit up and shook her head from side to side to try to clear her vision. Every move she made exhausted her.
“Max! Max! Where are you?” she yelled, not caring if the attackers heard her. “Max!”
Against the light of the burning SUV, she saw the shapes of at least four men. Then a muzzle flash. And another. She gasped. Though she wanted to get to her son, she knew it was hopeless. If the RPG hadn’t killed him, whoever had ambushed them just had. The guilt she felt for abandoning him was crushing, and Triggs found herself choking up.
No time for this. Move! Regroup. Find out who did this. Kill them all.
Using all of her strength, she stood up but didn’t waste energy on wiping away the tears that had found their way onto her cheeks. She hurried down a steep embankment, keeping one eye closed in an effort to safeguard a bit of her night vision. She hadn’t been up for more than half a minute when her feet stumbled over something and she fell down, rolling and hitting rocks and branches. The pain in her shoulder was overwhelming. Blackness threatened to swallow her whole. She landed in a bed of rusted cans and bottles. Litter was all around her. Dead batteries, empty plastic bags, foil packets, rotten food. The smell was awful. The odors of decaying trash and animal filth all mixed into one.
Get up! You wanna live. Get up!
Then Triggs was upright again, climbing the bank on the other side, clawing her way out of the garbage. Voices behind her forced her to go faster. The beams of powerful flashlights crisscrossed around her. Then the first gunshot cracked. The bullet hit a glass bottle behind her, sending some type of lukewarm liquid onto her ankle. More gunfire. Fast and brief. Bullets chewed the ground a few feet to her right. She hurried faster. There were only a few more feet before she reached the top and the safety of the other side. In the distance, other lights appeared. Blue and red flashing lights. At least two police cars were fast approaching, their sirens blaring. She didn’t stop to see what happened. She hoped for the best for the officers, but she wasn’t confident they would survive their encounter with whoever had ambushed her.
Where are the marines? What’s taking them so damn long?
She went down the steep hill, careful not to fall face-first. She couldn’t afford to wait for them. How would they find her, anyway? The Baha Mar resort was still far away. In her condition, it would take way too long to reach it. She needed help. Mercifully, there was a small road perpendicular to the highway they’d been traveling on. She hadn’t seen any car driving on it yet, but she figured it was because the road wasn’t visible from the other side of the hill.
My phone! My goddamn phone! She reached for it in her back pocket. She looked at the screen, half expecting it wouldn’t have any service. But the phone was still working and had three solid bars. She thought about calling the embassy but changed her mind. She needed Pierce Hunt. And medical attention.
She’d started to pull up Hunt’s phone number when she saw a pair of headlights moving in her direction. The headlights picked out the turns in the road, and Triggs quickly estimated that if she hurried, she could intercept the car. She selected Hunt’s phone number and pressed the call button. Then she half walked, half jogged down the hill toward the road.
CHAPTER FOUR
John F. Kennedy Drive, Nassau
New Providence, Commonwealth of the Bahamas
“Goddamn it, Mom! Just go!” Max Oswald yelled. “Go! I’m right behind you.”
He watched his mother, one of the most powerful women in the United States, totter away in the darkness.
Once she was a safe distance away, he came out from the rear of the SUV and walked to his men, who had taken cover behind the two sedans.
“Who the fuck shot my mother?” Max hissed, furious.
These three men were the best. All were former special operators. Mistakes like this weren’t supposed to happen.
Chiang Tay, a former Special Operations Force commando from Singapore, put up his hand. At five feet six inches, Tay wasn’t tall, but he was built like a bull, with the thick neck, broad chest, and powerful arms of a man who had spent years in the wrestling room.