Full Black - Brad Thor [54]
Chase slashed the second Islamist’s throat with the jagged, broken glass base of the hookah as the two remaining men turned on him.
They charged in unison. Chase caught the first man with a low thrust kick to the knee and the other with a foreknuckle strike to the throat.
The man who received the kick to his knee fell to the floor screaming in pain. The other man, who had been struck in the throat, was a different story. His windpipe should have been crushed, but Chase had failed to grab his hair or his clothing and pull him into the strike. The man had recoiled just as the punch came in, lessening its severity. Like an enraged bull, he gathered himself and charged again. This time, Chase would not screw it up.
As the man came in, he bent his head and ran at Chase with his fingers spread and his hands outstretched like claws. Wherever he had grown up, apparently it was his mother who had taught him to fight.
Chase slipped between the man’s arms and caught him right beneath the chin with a perfectly placed uppercut. Chase drove him backward with two jabs to his face.
The man swung wildly and got lucky, punching Chase in the side of the head. The blow hurt like hell and immediately his ear felt as if it was on fire. Chase let his anger get the better of him.
Spinning, he kicked the man directly in the center of his chest, sending him out through the glass window down to the street below.
Chase knew he couldn’t have survived the fall and didn’t bother to look to see if he had. There were five men left in the apartment and he moved quickly. He wasn’t about to wait for them to come find him.
He had made it almost all the way to the doorway when he saw the barrel of the rifle. He wasn’t surprised that the terrorists had had guns hidden away. Grabbing the weapon, he tried to twist it away from his attacker.
There was a rapid burst of fire as the rifle erupted. Where all of the rounds went, he had no idea. All he knew was that one had torn right through his right bicep and hit the bone. The pain was excruciating, and he immediately lost the use of his arm.
Sweeping his left arm, he came up underneath the barrel and knocked it off him just as another volley of shots was fired. The noise at such close range was deafening.
By moving the weapon, Chase had his opponent off-balance. Finding the weapon’s upper handguard, he pushed down with all his might, forcing the man to lean forward. As he did, Chase snapped his head forward. There was a spray of blood and a sickening crack as Chase connected with the bridge of the man’s nose.
It was game over. Chase snatched the rifle away from him. Balancing the buttstock against his left shoulder, he depressed the trigger and put a three-round burst right through the man’s chest.
He then spun and capped the jihadist with the blown-out knee who was coming back at him from behind. Five down, four to go.
He could sense movement from out in the hallway and didn’t bother looking to see who it was. Propping the gun up against his shoulder once more, he fired a burst directly through the wall.
There was a scream and the sound of a weapon clattering to the floor. Shooting without identifying the target was usually a bad thing, but Chase didn’t give a damn. Even if he had capped Karami, this was kill or be killed.
He doubted Karami would have come down the hallway himself. That’s what cannon fodder was for. He hoped he’d just nailed Sabah, but he doubted it. It was probably one of the two goons from the garage.
Bending his left arm into an L shape, he positioned the stock in the crook of his elbow, up against his good bicep. Popping the weapon around the edge of the door frame, he sprayed the hall with another burst.
He waited for any return fire, and when none came, he risked a quick look. His guess had been right. Lying facedown on the floor in a pool of blood was the man from the garage who had gone out and bought him the bandages and energy drinks. Six down.
Chase now had a decision