Vortex Read Free Page A

exploded, sending a mind-numbing shock wave pulsing across the room. Both Roost and Bekker were up and running for the open door before the explosion’s echoes faded.
    Roost was closer and made it first. Jumping over the dead man in the doorway, he flattened himself against one side while Bekker took the other. Roost took a quick breath, then snapped his head and rifle around the doorjamb. Bekker heard a startled shout from down the corridor-a shout that ended in a low, bubbling moan as the sergeant fired a long, clattering burst.
    Bekker leaned out and saw Roost’s target lying twitching in a spreading pool of blood, hit several times by point-blank fire. The dying guerrilla had been caught coming out of the nearer of two other doors opening onto this corridor.
    Footsteps sounded behind him. The rest of his men had cleared the stairs.
    Keep moving, his mind screamed. Obeying combat-trained instincts, Bekker stepped carefully out into the corridor and covered by Roost, slid slowly along the wall toward the closest door.
    He was halfway there when another black leaped out, swinging a rifle around at him. Bekker, close enough to tackle the man, threw himself prone instead.
    Even before he hit the floor, he heard gunfire and felt bullets whip cracking overhead. The guerrilla’s eyes opened wide in surprise and pain, and stayed open in death, as the force of Roost’s fire threw him back against the wall. Bekker had time to notice the man’s bare chest and bare feet before fear and surging adrenaline brought him upright again.
    He dove over the bodies and into the doorway as he heard Roost running down the corridor. He felt exposed, knowing nobody could cover him but wanting to move quickly.
    Then he was through the door, rolling clumsily over the tangled corpses into a small room, and scrambling for any cover he could find. There wasn’t any within reach.
    Bekker fired blindly, scanning for targets behind the hail of bullets tearing up walls, mattresses, and bedding. There weren’t any. The room was empty.
    Roost crashed in behind him and the two men took a hasty look around.
    They were in a small bunk room filled with five or six neatly arranged cots and footlockers. Militant political posters decorated all four walls. A wooden weapons rack, empty, stood in one corner.
    More gunfire and grenade bursts echoed down the hall from other parts of the building. Roost paused just long enough to
    replace the magazine in his assault rifle and then dashed back out through the door. Bekker picked himself up and with one last look for concealed guerrillas, followed his sergeant.
    Dense, choking, acrid smoke swirled in the air. Bekker’s nose twitched.
    Even after more than a dozen firefigghts, he still couldn’t get used to the smell. He looked around for his radioman. It was time to start getting control of this battle.
    He found Corporal de Vries crouched next to a desk in the outer office, watching the stairwell.
    “Any word from der Merwe or Heitman?” Bekker asked.
    “Second section reports activity in the police station, but no…
    They both heard ringing and turned around to stare at a phone on one of the desks. Belcker looked at his radioman, shrugged, and picked it up.
    The voice on the other end shook, clearly shocked and more than a little frightened.
    “Cosate? What’s going on down there? Are you all right?”
    Bekker’s lips twitched into a thin, humorless smile as he heard the textbook-perfect English. He slammed the phone down hard.
    The captain looked around.
    “All right, the town’s waking up.” He shouted,
    “Roost!” just as the sergeant trotted up with two other men, a half-eaten piece of chicken in one hand.
    “Last room is a kitchen. The floor’s clear. No casualties,” he reported.
    Belcker nodded.
    “Good. Now take your squad and start Phase Two. Search the rooms, collect all the documents you find. And get Nkume up here.
    Let’s move.” He turned to de Vries.
    “The building’s secure.