Quicker (an Ell Donsaii story) (22 page)

As soon as Phil’s wrists were free he leapt up to sprint to the front. He had no doubt that Ell’s bursts had taken down two of the guards but there were seven of them! They’d be on her in a moment and his heart trip-hammered at the thought, eyes seeking one of them to tackle.

He stumbled to a halt. They were
all
down!
Holy shit!
he thought as prickles ran down his neck.

Ell! He saw her kneeling over and pointing a pistol at one of the terrorists who was saying, “Kill me!”

Distractedly Phil wondered what she had done with her automatic weapon and where she’d gotten it, he briefly pictured it hidden in the muck at the bottom of the portapotty? But for there to be a weapon in the portapotty, someone would have had to put it in there before this even happened - so that couldn’t be? Could it?

For a moment Phil wondered if she would shoot the terrorist as he requested, but then she stood up, looking desperately around. Phil asked, “What do you need?”

“We’ve got to let the police know to break in here and rescue us!” She spoke so rapidly he could barely understand her; it took a moment after she stopped speaking for him to process it.

“Are they outside?” Phil asked in astonishment. “Why haven’t they already broken in and rescued us?”

“This place is like a fort! It would have taken so long most of you would have been dead before they could...” Her pressured speech was interrupted by a roaring sound, then a loud crash as some long object ripped through the steel door in the corner. It deployed an enormous barb as it retracted and the door ripped outward. A moment later small objects flew through the door.

Absently, even as he saw Ell turn away, eyes scrunched shut and fingers in her ears, Phil wondered what they were.
Damn! Of course! Flash bangs!
he thought as he closed his own eyes and covered his own ears a moment too late to protect them from the painful sound and light. Blinded and deafened he didn’t see the SWAT team members run through the door. He wasn’t really aware of them until one of the team, none too gently, shoved him down to a prone position on the floor.

Grimly, Chief Bowers followed a couple of stretchers through the small door into the terrorist hideout, expecting pandemonium and blood everywhere. To his astonishment he saw the athletes standing in a large group, talking excitedly while waiting to get their plasticuffs removed. The medics huddled over one red, white and blue uniform along one wall and by another in the middle of the room. SWAT team members stood over a number of prone or supine individuals in dark civilian clothing, mostly in the front of the room, though a couple were in the corners of the room. Medics worked on those individuals too. He found the SWAT team leader, “Report?”

“Uh, yes sir.” He pulled off his helmet and rubbed his scalp, “Two hostage casualties. The girl, shot in the abdomen during the broadcast, and one of the shot putters, shot in the ass. Looks to be a flesh wound only.”

Good Christ!
Bowers thought to himself.
Maybe my career will survive this fiasco after all.
“The terrorists?”

“Shot to shit, sir. Most of them will make it though. Damned shame.”

“What!?”

“All shot up but one sir. That Jamal guy that claimed to have turned. You know, the one we were interrogating outside?”

“What the hell!? How’d he get in here?!”

“Says he brought Donsaii in like we picked up on the net.
Says
it was her idea.” He lifted an eyebrow in doubt.

“Shit! Is she in here too?” the chief asked rhetorically as his eyes had already found her standing with the rest of the athletes. He waved off an answer, “Never mind, who shot these bastards up? We need to give ‘em a medal or
something
!”

“Nobody seems to know, sir. At least whoever does know ain’t talkin’. Maybe the bastards got in a fight with each other?”

“You’re shittin’ me!”

“No sir.”

“Where’s that boss terrorist?” The swat leader waved over toward the bus and Bowers stalked over that way. Hamid lay on the ground; one of the medics was taping an IV to his arm. His swarthy face had paled and blood soaked the thighs of his pants. “What happened, you ‘guiding lights’ of the Moslem faith get in an argument with each other?”

“No! It was Donsaii! She tried to murder us all! I demand an attorney.”

The medic said, “You should answer the man.” He moved Hamid’s left leg and the terrorist gasped in pain.

“You are torturing me!” Hamid gasped.

“No sir, just trying to realign your broken legs.” He nudged the right leg and Hamid gasped again. “Just not sure which way they go.”

“It was Donsaii!” Hamid squeaked, “I’m telling the truth. She had a weapon and shot us all!” Hamid’s jaw trembled in reaction.

The medic looked up at Bowers, “Same shit, different tune. He’s sure fixated on Donsaii though. Seems to think she’s Satan incarnate. Dunno why.”

Bowers looked at Hamid musingly, “What kind of injuries these assholes got anyway?”

“This guy? Both femurs and a wound through the meat over his hip that exited through his holster and gun. Next guy over, shot, hit his gun and knocked him on his ass. Gonna have a major damn bruise but otherwise nothing permanent. Next guy, shot through both arms, broke both humeri. Guy by the door, left chest, right chest, probably won’t make it.” He pointed with his chin, “Shot in femur. Next one, also “hit in the Beretta,” huge freaking bruise. Must be some kinda record, four of these guys got shot in their weapons. What’re the chances of that?! Guy in the corner by the storm drain is ‘Swiss cheesed,’ three holes in the torso and one in his Kalashnikov, almost certainly won’t make it.”

A chill ran over Bowers, despite the warm air. He turned and walked over to Donsaii. “I thought I put you in ‘protective custody.’”

She hung her head. “Sorry. You did. I thought I could get them to take me and let some of the other athletes go. Didn’t work.”

The chief grunted. “What did happen? How’d they all get shot up?”

She shrugged, “I was in the portapotty. Then there was a lot of shooting.”

Bowers eyes narrowed, “The head bad guy says
you
shot them.”

She looked up at the ceiling a moment, “When I came out of the portapotty I got one of their pistols.” She shrugged, “When I saw they were all ‘out of action’ I threatened the head guy with the gun, trying to get him to connect the camera to the net so I could call you guys to come in and rescue us and bring medics for Anna.”

“Anna?”

“The gymnast he shot. Anna Kernova. She’s one of my teammates.”

“Hmmpf.” He looked away, “We’ll just have to download the AIs to find out what really went down I guess.” He looked back at her quickly to see if she would be wincing as she realized he would find out anyway.

She looked blandly at him, “Good idea chief.”

Chief Bowers talked to several of the athletes who all had variations of the same story, “No, I didn’t see who was shooting. When I heard the shooting I hit the floor. Donsaii? I did see her go in the portapotty right before the shooting. Whoever did it, tell ‘em thanks!”

Back at the command truck Bowers remembered that all the athletes had had their AI’s removed when they were taken captive so there wouldn’t be anything to download from those AIs. He was surprised to find that the terrorists had very low level AIs that they pretty much used only for communication. Only two of them even had video recording, Hamid and Jamal. Jamal’s was useless, when the shooting started, he dove back into the bus and it recorded only images of the floor boards of the bus. Hamid’s video was facing the wrong way when the first burst went off. He began to turn toward the shooter but apparently he was hit by a bullet and nearly knocked down. He was starting to turn back toward the shooter when the second burst of gunfire was recorded on his audio track. The Kalashnikov’s distinct rip could be heard overlapping the second burst of fire but then it cut off. Hamid’s video blurred with motion artifact as it swung toward several Kalashnikovs leaning against the bus. Bowers thought he saw a figure wearing red, white and blue crouched near the portapotty in one of the frames, then a final burst of two shots apparently hit Hamid and drove him to the floor. A few moments later Donsaii could plainly be heard yelling, “Phil,” and moments after that she appeared in Hamid’s video log, pointing a Beretta at him and demanding that he connect to the net. Hamid said, “No, Kill me!” and Donsaii just went away.

Bowers said, “What was that automatic weapon that shot them? I recognize the sound of a Kalashnikov on the audio at one point, but I haven’t heard that other weapon before.”

White from SWAT said, “The only weapons we’ve found so far are Beretta 9mm pistols and the Kalashnikov assault rifles. The Arab by the storm grate had a Kalashnikov which had been fired, five rounds short of a full magazine. One of those rounds seems to have ricocheted off the floor to hit the shot putter in the butt. One of the Berettas had been fired and was fourteen rounds short of a full clip. No other weapons had been fired. Audio records nineteen shots total, so the Beretta and the Kalashnikov account for all rounds.”

“Wait, this Beretta had been modified somehow to fire as an automatic weapon?”

“No sir.”

“Are you saying that someone pulled a Beretta’s trigger so fast it sounded like an automatic weapon?!”

He shrugged, “It seems so, sir.”

“Holy crap! With bullets spraying around like that it’s a miracle we don’t have scads of collateral damage due to friendly fire! I wanted to figure out who did it so we could give them a medal but now I’m thinking we should charge them with reckless endangerment!”

White wiped his forehead, “Uh, Chief. That Beretta fired fourteen rounds. We count
exactly
fourteen rounds striking terrorists. No stray rounds. All rounds striking Arabs near the shooter hit them in the extremities or hit their
weapons
. The only rounds striking ‘center body mass’ were those hitting the guards thirty to forty feet away who were armed with assault rifles that the guards already had in their hands. Maybe this was luck, but if someone did this shoot purposefully it is the finest bit of real situation shooting I’ve ever heard of! To be honest, Chief, I really don’t think that anyone could actually do it, so I guess it musta’ been luck but...” He shook his head. “But if someone really can shoot like that, I sure want to meet them and ‘make friends.’” He stared into space and muttered, “Sure as shit don’t want to be their enemy.” He looked back at Bowers, “Hey, pistol shooting is an Olympic sport. Were any of the Olympians in that room on the shooting team?”

Bowers called out to one of the techs, “Gene, find out if any of the Olympians in that room were on the shooting team.” Then he narrowed his eyes. “White, that gymnast Donsaii was the only non-terrorist known to be up front when this went down! She was in the portapotty. Have you seen what she did yesterday in the arena to win four gold medals?”

“Sure Chief, but there’s a huge difference between jumping around and shooting. Has she had any weapons training?”

“She attends one of the military academies so I expect she’s had some. We’ll find out how much.”

Gene said, “Chief? None of the athletes in that room were on the shooting team. Olympic shooting events don’t start for another 4 days.”

Chapter Eight

The police wanted to hold the athletes for “questioning” and for “protective custody” but the athletes themselves, as well as their coaches raised a storm of protest at this proposed disruption of the games. After all, disruption was exactly what the terrorists had wanted. But by the time the police relented and let the athletes go Phil was almost late to his afternoon match. When he walked out, they had a bus waiting to take him right over to the arena and, in view of events, the wrestling officials were understanding about his late arrival. At first he worried that the morning’s events would derail his concentration but the simple expedient of imagining his opponent to be a terrorist focused his attention nicely and resulted in a brutal takedown followed by a sudden pin of his adversary. He left the ring feeling somewhat sorry for his dazed opponent.

After a few words with his coach he was finally able to pick up his AI, put on his HUD and check what the news was saying about the terrorists. The first item he came across was an announcement, “We are relieved to report that the US Olympic athletes who were captured by terrorists have been rescued. They were for the most part uninjured except, of course, for gymnast Anna Kernova whose shooting was broadcast by the terrorists and attributed to failure to meet their demands. Also wounded was shot putter James Olnos, struck by a stray round during the rescue. Both of the injured athletes have been taken to an undisclosed medical facility where, we are told, Ms. Kernova is currently undergoing surgery. At present no details regarding the rescue are available though experts confess to being astonished that it was accomplished without more bloodshed amongst the athletes. The location in which they were being held has been described as ‘fortress like’ and we are endeavoring to learn what methods the police used to break in so rapidly that they were able to subdue the terrorists before they killed or maimed many or most of the athletes. Apparently, almost all of the terrorists themselves were injured by gunfire and are also being removed to an undisclosed medical facility.”
What the hell?
Phil thought,
how could they possibly not know that Ell rescued us?
He pulled up another webcast on gymnastics. “As you probably know by now, all the female American gymnastic athletes were among the athletes abducted by terrorists this morning and Anna Kernova, the vaulting specialist was injured. The rest of them missed their events but officials are discussing ways for them to make up…” Someone tapped Phil on the shoulder.

When he looked up a pretty young woman, one of the “guides” who escorted athletes from place to place, said, “I’m sorry Mr. Zabrisk, a couple of reporters would like to interview you. Are you able to take a few questions?