I hit the transmit key for my radio. “A.J. What do you see out there?”

The team sniper responds quickly. “I can only see the back of the property. The QRF went around to the front three minutes ago.”

I tap the push-to-talk button again. “Carl, say status.”

“Oil leak is dealt with. Not too bad. This bird will fly, but I won’t want to do much in the way of acrobatics.”

Rodney says what I’m thinking now. “Harry, there are a lot of ways into this building. If fifteen or twenty guys hit in a coordinated fashion, the three of us are gonna get our asses overrun.”

He’s right, of course. We can’t hold back that entire force if they come hard from different directions.

I decide to call Talyssa to tell her that finding Roxana and the Director is her responsibility, because I’m not making it out of here alive.

But before I do, a statuesque blond woman in an evening gown pulls on the torn arm of my tunic. “You think you men are the only ones who can fight?”

I don’t have time for this. “What are you talking about?”

“I can fight, too.”

She looks like a twenty-year-old fashion model, and I discount her immediately. “I love the spirit, miss, but those guys out there are gonna be Mexican cartel, and they know how to handle their weapons.”

“So do I.”

Incredulous, I say, “You can shoot an M4?”

“I’ve never tried.”

I start to turn away. “Yeah, let us handle—”

“But I can shoot your AK. I spent two years in the Ukrainian army.”

I turn back to her, astonishment evident on my face. “Doing what?”

“Infantry.”

Kareem hears this. “No shit?”

She looks into my eyes and lifts her chin. “I can handle that rifle on your chest, but you won’t let me because you men are too proud to—”

I pull the sling over my head, removing the Kalashnikov from my body. “You’ve got me all wrong, sister. I couldn’t be happier you want to fight. Hell, I’ll let you run this shit.” I hand the weapon to her.

She takes it, slings it around her neck, drops the mag to check the ammo, and then clicks it back into place. I look around to the nine other women up here at the top of the stairs. “You guys got any handy skills?”

Three hands rise. A woman tells me she spent two years in the Polish air force, where she learned basic firearms handling. Another, the sixteen-year-old I found hiding in the grotto, says her father is Bulgarian police and she’s probably shot a pistol as much as I have.

She’s wrong, but her attitude is right, so I pass her my Glock.

Other women head off to pick up weapons and ammo from dead men on this floor, and soon one brings me an AR-15 along with two extra magazines to replace the weapon I handed off to the tall Ukrainian. Rodney and I position our four new shooters behind cover facing both wings, and Kareem shows a few more how to handle guns while the first three keep watch down the stairs.

The rest drag furniture out of bedrooms, sliding it across the floor. A dresser, a table, a TV stand: it’s more concealment than it is cover, but it’s something, and Rodney helps them line it all up on the stairs to provide cover from below.

I radio A.J. and tell him I have nine guns in the fight now, and he responds by letting me know he’s moving to Carl and the helo. It’s the right call to shut down the sniper’s hide at the back of the property, and for the two of them to link up. We won’t be flying thirteen people out of here with a four-seater helicopter, but when the time comes, one more low-and-fast pass with the helo and a rifle may help disrupt the enemy attack.

It takes the cartel boys a few minutes to plan their second wave, but they do a decent job of it. First the power goes out on the property, and then the front door opens again, while the shooting simultaneously begins from both hallways.

But the enemy’s advantage is greatly decreased by the fact that they have three narrow attack points, and we have three weapons pointed at each one. All nine of us fire like mad, dumping so many rounds downrange that it overwhelms the two or three men who can fit abreast at each attack vector.

It’s too dark to see who’s getting hit, but our outgoing fire is awesome to behold. I lost my ear protection when I crashed through the window, so I doubt the girls and I will be hearing much for the rest of the night.

None of the armed women will probably win any marksmanship awards, but they all seem to be able to dump rounds in the dark just about as well as me and my two teammates. The three with experience reload, the others run dry, and then, after I rock off my second full magazine and reload with a third, Rodney calls a cease-fire.

Shell casings trickle down the stairs for several seconds, but no more enemy contact returns.

Just then, Carl transmits over the radio. “All call signs, I’ve got multiple pax fleeing on foot to the south. I’m not going to pursue. I’ve got this bird flying, and I don’t wanna fuck it up by catching more lead.”

Kareem rogers up, and we begin getting the women ready to move.

Now I hear a shriek behind me, and I spin around as Rodney actuates his weapon light, shining it on the floor in the direction of the noise. The tall Ukrainian who’d fielded my Kalashnikov lies on her back, her irises rolled back in her open eyes, a pair of bloody bullet holes in the center of her gown.

One of the other hostages, a small Asian woman who doesn’t seem to understand English, has been shot just below her right knee, and a redheaded girl in her twenties looks like she took a ricochet to her left hip. Kareem drops to the floor next to the Asian, along with several other women, and they all work together to treat her, while Rodney pulls out his medical kit and bandages the redhead.

One of the hostages is dead, and two are wounded. Anger threatens my mission, so I force myself to take a deep breath. “We’re going to go for a couple of those SUVs out on the driveway. We’ll either find the keys or we’ll hot-wire the things, I don’t give a shit which. Everybody is coming, we’ll carry the wounded.”

* * *

• • •

It seems like a thousand police lights flash in the darkness just a mile or so behind us as we race overland in a convoy of two silver Cadillac Escalades. Our headlights are off and I’m glad I’m not behind the wheel, but soon enough Kareem and Rodney find a back road that leads off the sixty-acre ranch and we drive it to the highway, then turn to the south, heading to Calabasas to drop the injured women off at the hospital.

I make contact with Talyssa and tell her what happened at Rancho Esmerelda. I hate letting her know that her sister was hauled away during the fight by Jaco and the Director, but I do so. I tell her to stay put down in LA, ask her to watch as much news as she can about the shootout and to see if she learns anything of note that might help us find out the identity of the Director.