Rodney’s voice is on the radio now, just audible through the gunfire raging outside. “All hostiles on the roof are down; we’re entering via the stairwell, west side of property.”

A.J. speaks up next. “I’ve got inbound forces, two vics, leaving the bunkhouse. Unknown number of hostiles; they loaded up the trucks out of my field of vision. They’ll be on your poz in under a minute unless I can slow them down. Will advise.”

Shep transmits, the thumping rotor pounding through my earpiece. “Harry? You inside, or did you hit the wall?”

I respond softly, not sure what threats lie ahead. “I’m in. Keep up that air cover as long as you can.”

“Roger that,” Shep says.

I call to A.J. “Overwatch, I need you to buy us some time with the hostile QRF. It’s gonna take a while for three dudes to clear this place and organize the hostages.”

A.J. replies coolly, “I’ll see what I can do. Targeting the engine blocks on the trucks.”

I push the worry about the enemy outside of the house from my mind, and I focus on the enemy inside with me now. Moving up the well-lit passage with my rifle optic up to my eyes, I see door after door in front of me, like a hotel hallway. The door just ahead on my right opens and, without a moment’s hesitation, I lunge at it, impact the person on the other side, and push them up to a wall.

It’s a young woman with blue eyes filled with terror. I hold my gloved left hand over her mouth while she deals with the shock of everything that’s happening around her.

She’s wearing a T-shirt and panties, her sandy brown hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and it appears as if she’s just taken a shower.

It’s not Roxana, and I have no idea if I saw this woman in Mostar or not.

Leaning close to her, I say, “English?”

When she nods, I ask, “How many guards?”

I take away the hand, and she speaks with a pronounced accent, which I take to be Czech.

“I, I don’t know. Many. And new men here. White men. Maybe seven, eight? They have guns. They dressed like johns.”

“How many johns are here now?”

Again, she says, “I don’t know. Not many. Maybe five?”

I transmit quickly to Kareem and Rodney. “Be advised. Enemy personnel mixed in with the johns. Treat every male you see as potentially hostile.”

Rodney responds, “This ain’t our first rodeo, Harry.”

These are the guys who gunned down over a dozen traffickers in Manila; they don’t need me telling them to keep their weapons at the ready.

I stop transmitting and try to extract more target intelligence from the woman in front of me. “How many females here now?”

“Nine,” she says, and then she shakes her head. “No. Two came yesterday. Eleven. Eleven now.”

“Where are they?”

“Most are on second or third floor, but some of the johns take the girls to the grotto on the ground floor. It’s on the other side. There might be girls there.”

“I need you to get dressed, then climb into the bathtub and wait for someone to come collect you.”

“Where are we going?” Her voice cracks with fear.

“You are going home.”

She looks at me with bewilderment. “You are . . . you are the good guys?”

To this I only shrug as I turn away. “We’re more like the ‘slightly better than them’ guys.”

I leave the room to the sound of her running on bare feet, deeper into the room and, hopefully, to her clothes and shoes.

Telling this girl I was going to get her home might have been a bit ambitious on my part, since me and my mates are probably outnumbered four or five to one right now, but hopefully it will have the effect of getting her moving.

FORTY-NINE

   Roxana Vaduva had run naked into the bathroom, and here she quickly dressed in warm-ups and a pullover that she’d left lying over the edge of the bathtub. When the gunfire began she dove to the floor and covered her head, and then a helicopter chopped the night air right outside the bathroom window. She crawled to the door and locked it, but only seconds later she heard a man’s voice. “Maja! Get out here!”

It was Jaco; he sounded breathless, excited, but not afraid.

She looked at the locked door but didn’t move towards it, hoping he’d go away.

The South African’s voice rang out again, but this time he was right outside the bathroom. “Open it now or I’ll kick the bladdy thing down and wring your neck!”

She unlocked the latch and opened the door.

Jaco reached in and took her by the arm, then yanked her out of the bathroom, out of the bedroom, and into the hall. The two entered the stairwell, and Roxana struggled to keep up with the tall bald-headed man.

The gunfire outside was mixed in with the sound of the helicopter receding.

“Where are we going?” she demanded.

He kept rushing down the stairs, her wrist tight in his hand, and he said, “Not a word out of you or I’ll break your jaw.”

Roxana said nothing else.

Jaco took a radio off his belt as they reached the ground floor and began running through a large entry hall towards the front door of the house. “Lion One is exiting.”

“Roger,” came a reply from one of his men. “The heli flew off to the north, I think he landed. Can’t see him.”

“Good,” Jaco said, “because we’re goin’ south.”

Sean Hall’s voice came over the radio now. “I’ve got the Director in one of the G-Wagens. We’re outta here!”

“Wait!” Jaco demanded, then ran out the back door of the building with the girl in his grasp, a pistol high in front of him.

* * *

• • •

Carl banked sharply over the property to the east of the mansion, and Shep hung his upper torso out of the helicopter to line up his optics on a man racing up the drive on a four-wheeler with a rifle on his back. He took the shot, hit the four-wheeler but not the man, then told himself he needed to concentrate his fire on a larger group of hostiles moving in from the east, because there certainly were plenty of targets.

A.J. came over the headset now. “Papa, the two QRF trucks are down. I put rounds through both engines, but the men are out and moving on foot. Twenty of them, easy. I’ve lost them behind a hillock between me and them. You’ll have to try and rake them before they get to the house.”