Vengeance: A Derek Stillwater Novel (Derek Stillwater Thrillers Book 8) (27 page)

The explosion was immense. The
ambulance skidded sideways, then stopped. Derek jumped out of the ambulance, running toward the cloud of smoke and dust two hundred yards away. Debris, bits of dirt, metal, wood, concrete and plastic rained down around him. Arms protecting his head, he moved closer.

Sholes! Brigham! Had they still been there?

He could barely see through the cloud of dirt and smoke.

The ambulance pulled alongside him, the fog lights cutting a swath through the haze. “Get in,” Noa said.

“We’ve got to help here,” Derek said, thinking,
That bastard, Nazif, he knew we were close to him.

The thought was followed by:
Was Bob in the truck that exploded?

He clambered back into the passenger seat, jaw clenched, muscles tight. Noa nudged the ambulance forward, the area filled with flaming debris.

And then a ghostly figure appeared in the headlights. Two. Three.

Brigham and Sholes and Slater. Brigham and Sholes were supporting Slater between them.

Rushing to help, they saw that Sholes’ and Brigham’s faces were covered with small cuts, their eyes bloodshot, hair clotted with dust and dirt.

But Slater was worse, a blood-soaked tourniquet wrapped around her left thigh, her left hand also covered with a rag dyed scarlet.

“She’s going into shock,” Brigham said. “That a real ambulance?”

“Get her in the back,” Noa shouted.

The sounds of vehicles and sirens filled the air.

Derek helped place the marine onto the gurney in the back. Brigham turned to go. “I’ve got to go see if any of my team made it. Or any of the Egyptians.”

Nodding, Derek began first aid. A quick look at Slater’s hand suggested she’d lost at least a couple fingers. The wounded leg was pretty bad, too. It was beyond his limited first aid training, but he did the best he could as Noa worked on the hand.

Sholes, crouched next to him, said, “I think we’re losing her. She was closer than we were. I don’t know if somebody tripped something—”

“Nazif triggered it. He was on the phone with me.”

Leaning forward, he checked Slater’s pulse. Thready and weak.

“I think she’s gone.”

“The leg,” Sholes said.

Desperate, kneeling over her, Derek started chest compressions, but he felt it was too late. He continued anyway, sending a brief prayer to any deity listening.

An Egyptian Military medical vehicle skidded alongside. Noa shouted to them. Two medics took one look and eased Derek and Lynn Sholes aside.

They watched as they worked, pumping saline into a vein, using QuikClot to staunch the bleeding, stabilizing her.

Tapping him on the arm, Sholes said, “They need help back there.”

He nodded. Into his throat mic he said, “We’re okay. What’s going on?”

Irina: Thank God! Nazif shot down Boris’s drone. We lost him.

Hammond: We’re working on it. Jim’s on the phone with Meade.

Derek thought for a moment. “I can call him. Can Jim coordinate with Meade?”

Hammond: Give us a couple minutes.

“We’ve got plenty to do.”

Feeling some guilt,
Derek and Noa left the blast area. Noa called her people and to check on Kadish, who was out of surgery and still unconscious. One of the entire trailers must have been filled with explosives. It had been toward the back, and as a result, Noa and the Americans had been relatively unscathed, with the exception of Slater. She had been stabilized and moved to a hospital.

Several of Brigham’s team were injured, mostly cuts, bruises and burns. One of the men had an arm blown off, was stabilized and moved. Another lost both legs. They didn’t know if he would make it.

The Egyptians had gotten it worse. They had found a dozen dead and were still tracking down another dozen. Body parts were everywhere.

General el-Sisi had taken over direct control of the recovery.

“Everybody check in,” Derek said into his mic. “What’s going on?” He was exhausted, his body ached and his back throbbed and screeched at him every time he moved.

Hammond: Working on it. Jim’s arguing with someone at Meade.

Irina: Hang on, just a second, I think …

Boris was pissed
off. The fucker had shot down his drone! Those damned things were expensive.

He tossed the control box into his truck, stomped around to the back and unpacked his second one. He had a fleet, had been training a hand-picked group of
FSB
agents at the embassy. He had eight in his fleet—seven now, he supposed—and always kept a couple with him.

Within three minutes the second drone was in the air and heading to the stadium. Scanning the video feed, he spotted a couple possibilities several blocks away. The fucker had been in a dark blue Mercedes sedan. He thought it was an E-class, maybe ten years old.

“There!”

On the phone, he shouted into Konstantin’s ear. “I’ve got him!”

Derek and Noa
rushed to the ambulance and roared away. In the passenger seat, Derek checked his gun. “How are you on ammo?”

“Top me off,” she said, handing over her gun.

In Noa’s bag were extra cartridges for the handguns and clips for the MP5s. He reloaded, checked them and handed her gun back.

Hammond: I’ve got him up on our commercial satellite, too. He’s on El-Nasr Road heading northwest. Where exactly are you?

“Almost on El-Nasr, about three kilometers back.”

Irina: Boris can’t keep up, but he’ll keep an eye on him as best he can.

Hammond: Once you get closer, Meade is ready.

“Or if he stops,” Derek said. “We’re on it.”

Sholes: What the hell is going on?

Derek told her.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Not wasting time and you weren’t around. Deal with it.”

Sholes: You’re a pain in the ass, Stillwater.

Irina: (laughing)

“What do we have on the car?”

Irina: Boris says the car’s coming up on the El Saaqah Street exit … past it.

“What do we know about the area? What’s in that area?”

Sholes: Sun City Mall, bunch of hotels like the Sheraton and the Fairmont Heliopolis. The airport.

Noa glanced at him. “The mall?”

Frowning, Derek said, “Anything else? Anything military related?”

Sholes: Military Academy Stadium. And the Military Academy.

Derek and Noa shared a look. Derek shook his head. “Stay on him. But that’s a real possibility.”

It wasn’t hard
to miss the Sun City Mall. It was a huge complex with circular viewing decks, all done up in vibrant blue and glowing reds, a giant gold circle with gold
SUNCITY
in English marking one wing.

“Please tell me he’s not going to the mall,” Derek said.

Irina: The Egyptian Military Academy. Pretty sure.

“Well start looking around for trucks, because Nazif loves truck bombs.”

Hammond: We’re on it. Meade is ready when you are.

Glancing sideways at Noa, Derek said, “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Taking out the scavenged phone, he hit the Redial button, expecting that Nazif, who was so savvy in so many ways, would have tossed his old phone by now. To his surprise, Nazif answered. “
Allo?
”

“You missed me again, asshole.”

Silence.

“Still there, buddy?” Derek asked.

“I am on my way to kill your boss.”

“Glad to know he’s still alive.”

In Derek’s other ear, as Nazif talked:

Hammond: Meade says he’s very close to the Military Academy, on Salah Salem Street in front of the Sheraton Heliopolis.

Irina: Boris confirms.

Noa steered the ambulance in that direction. They were only about a kilometer away. Derek could see the hotel, and not far from there, the Military Academy Stadium, not as large as the International Stadium, but plenty big.

Sholes: We’re on our way. El-Sisi is sending teams as well.

Derek forced his attention back on Nazif.

Nazif said, “He won’t be for long. And I’m not waiting for you, Stillwater. I’m done. I’ve accomplished most of what I’ve wanted to accomplish this day. Just rest assured that as long as I’m alive you will always be looking over your shoulder.

Derek swayed as Noa veered onto Salah Salem Street.

Hammond: Meade says he’s pulling into the grounds of the Military Academy.

Sholes: I’ve been there. Plenty of vehicles and barracks. Lots of Quonset huts and open training grounds and buildings.

Irina: South entrance. Entering now.

“You do understand,” Derek said, “that if you kill Mandalevo, your brother will be returned to Guantanamo Bay and you’ll never see him again.”

“I’m sorry about that. If you see him, tell him I’m sorry. I did my best.”

“Why don’t you turn yourself in. I’m sure you’ll get a chance to talk to him in Cuba. Maybe even get adjoining cells.”

“I think I am done speaking with you now, Stillwater.” And the phone went dead.

Irina: Just after you go onto the grounds, there’s a large copse of trees. He drove in there. There might be a vehicle in there, but it’s hard to tell.

Noa roared into the compound, passing a large shed-like structure on the right. “There,” Derek said, pointing.

Nazif and Hafaz
slipped the Mercedes beneath the cover of the trees. Nearby was parked a military truck exactly like the other two that he had detonated.