Never-ending-snake Read Free

scalding hot—a sure sign of danger. Ella placed her hand on the butt of her pistol.
    Adam took a step closer to Kevin, his gaze still fixed on the van.
    Suddenly both rear doors flew open and two bulky men in black overalls armed with assault rifles jumped down to the pavement.
    “Guns!” Ella dove for the asphalt asthe men began firing from the hip.
    Glancing back, Ella saw Adam yank Kevin to the ground beside the starboard side landing gear, then drop to one knee, grabbing at his thigh, instinctively reaching for theservice Beretta he’d worn for years. A second later he flinched, then toppled to the pavement, blood spewing from his head.
    Groaning from an apparent hit, Kevin curled up behind the meagerprotection of the landing gear wheel.
    Ella, her nine-millimeter service pistol in hand, snapped off three quick shots, then rolled to her left, trying to use the shadow cast from the aircraft’s tail for concealment. The two shooters stopped moving forward but kept their weapons up by their shoulders, squeezing off round after round. The pilot, in line when the men first opened fire, had alreadytaken a stray bullet to the shoulder, but the assailants were no longer paying any attention to him. Their targets appeared to be the men wearing suits. As she fired at the pair, the pilot dove back into the aircraft through the open door.
    Ella aimed directly at the closest gunman’s chest, and fired twice. The man flinched, and staggered back. A hit.
    Ella shifted, trying to get a sight pictureon the second man, who was at least ten feet from his partner. Before she could squeeze off a shot, he located her in the shadows and fired a half dozen rounds of suppressing fire.
    Ella rolled, the bullets digging up asphalt where she’d been an instant before, and returned fire. The man’s partner, the one she’d thought she’d hit twice already, hadn’t even slowed down. He took another step forward,firing four or five more rounds at Adam and Kevin, who were bunched together now.
    She squeezed off more rounds. She was scoring hits, the bullets rocked the attackers, but neither would go down. They were probably wearing body armor. Out of ammo, Ella dove for the only concealment around—the luggage beneath the storage compartment. One of the shooters was reloading, replacing the spent magazinewith another, but his partner kept snapping off one round at a time, and she had to roll again to stay out of sight.
    On her back, she released the spent magazine and groped in her jacket pocket for the spare clip. Bullets ricocheted off the pavement, striking metal, and she wondered what a hit on the aircraft would do to her chances. Hoping the airplane’s fuel tanks were in the wings, higherup, she inserted the new magazine and closed the action with a touch of her thumb.
    Ella looked around the edge of a carry-on to get a fix on the gunmen. They were retreating now, walking backwards toward the van. One of them snapped off a round, which whined overhead and forced her to duck behind cover.
    Ella knew she had to get a sight picture and go for a head shot. Her third magazine, theone with the armor-piercing rounds, was in her purse, somewhere over by the right wing. Rising to a crouch, she dove toward the left side landing-gear wheel. The metal post and wheel would give her more protection than a suitcase full of clothes. With a little luck, there was still an outside chance that she could take them down.
    One of the men reached the van and jumped into the back, givingher an opening. She brought her weapon up in a two-handed grip, but the shooter still on the ground fired three quick shots, pinning her down again before she could squeeze off a round. One of the bullets struck the tire just beside her head and it exploded, stinging her with rubber, steel cord, or both. There was a thump on the asphalt next, and she saw a roundish object rolling in her direction.Her heart nearly stopped.
    Grenade! She hugged the ground, covering her head with