Solomon's Keepers Read Free Page B

best shot is to take them out when they do the alignment. I should be able to hold them from the perimeter for enough time.’
    ‘Too risky…Those suits are for toxic fuel, that’s not a bio warhead. Nah – you have to stay right where you are until air support gives you a one- ten and then split. And you need to be all the way back here and preferably further before you give them Cleared Hot because, I guarantee you, Harper needs this kill so bad he’s gonna send double strength.’
    ‘I got my orders and boy, was he clear.’
    ‘Can I have your Yamaha when you’re gone?’
    ‘Yeah, right.’
    You hear a shout and a burst of automatic fire from a weapon that isn’t Tyler’s. Then an explosion – a cartoon jag of eye-searing yellow that blinds momentarily and leaves vague shards of black falling through peripheral vision. You belatedly squeeze your eyes and duck as two more blasts bring dirt rain whispering close out front. The clamour is immediate. Voices of pain and alarm. More shots. Orders barked in panic.
    You shoulder the M-19 and scope the compound. A man holding his eyes turns his torso. A first time view of a real person in your sights. You hesitate. Another by a truck, weapon protruding, unsure where to aim, looking up, head turning. Now a choice, somewhere inside there’s a shifting of forces, not a voice but weight leant to a conclusion. Shtumph. Pan across to the far side, a glimpse of two men in shiny bodysuits running from the launcher. You leave them be and rummage in Tyler’s bag.
    You try him on the link. ‘You read me, Tyler? You taking that fire?’
    Nothing.
    You are on your feet and running. They won’t have placed your suppressed shots and if they’ve tumbled Tyler he’ll draw them to the other side. ‘Tyler you read me?’ At half way you stop and wait. A crackle of small arms fire is directed out into the desert. A random pop or two comes your way. They don’t know what’s happening. Then a chugging sound tells you they’ve got a heavy calibre up and running.
    ‘Tyler, you out yet?’
    ‘Nah, some fucker tripped a can – I’m pinned.’
    You’re running full belt. He comes and goes like a strobe.
    ‘Got your pigeon off yet?’
    ‘Asshole. Five minutes to the one-ten.’
    ‘Can you back out if I flash the front side?’
    ‘I told you to stay the fuck out of it. They’ll abort and try to split. They must know what’s coming.’
    ‘Couldn’t copy that, Tyler. I’m at the South side. Coming to your aid. Wait for the bangs and get the fuck out when they blow.’
    ‘Rees, I’m telling you…’
    You run down the line of vehicles unseen. The cans have a count of four. As you run back, you bounce the first one under a truck. There’s a brass edge to the explosion and something keeps jangling until the second blast takes over – lifting a Land Cruiser on a cushion of smoke and spares. You post your last through an open cab window and keep running.
    ‘Rees?’ Tyler, buzzing in a loose earpiece. ‘Rees, you read?’
    The mic is jiggling. Goosebumps lift the skin on your back. You throw in a zigzag, suddenly expecting a shot that doesn’t come. The rain is stubble on your face. The M-19 is bouncing in your arms.
    ‘I copy you. I hope you’re fucking clear.’
    You can hear he’s moving. ‘Thanks man – you’re a stupid fuck but I owe you. I just gave them the one-ten. Clear the fuck out of there, read me?’
    ‘I’m not stopping.’
    You come to the wire but not where it’s cut. A headlight beam sweeps past and you can hear the squeal of a vehicle lurching at speed. Left or right? You head right; fuck! Left, it must be near, thought you were retracing your fucking steps!
    You stop at a concrete post. They’re all the same and the marsh the other side has no landmarks. Now you’re thinking really hard. Fucking maps swirling. Tangled with instincts shouting and stopping you thinking clearly. You take a look back. Three sets of lights between the blaze of the