Full Black - Brad Thor [56]
If it wasn’t rigged, and they did have Chase inside, was he sitting there with a gun to his head? Would they shoot him if Harvath kicked open the door and rushed in? Without knowing how many there were, could he and Murphy take them out before they did anything to Chase?
It was a big gamble. Five men on his team were already dead. Whatever Harvath decided to do, he’d better be sure he was absolutely certain about it. He already had gallons of blood on his hands. He needed more information.
Taking a deep breath, he placed his ear against the door and listened. He heard a noise from inside. It was faint at first, but the longer he listened the louder it grew.
It sounded like a scuffle. Then Harvath realized it wasn’t a scuffle at all, but rather the sound of somebody turning the place inside out.
He signaled Murphy to be ready, and then, taking a step back, Harvath raised his boot and kicked the door in.
Nothing exploded, except the door off its hinges from the force of Harvath’s kick. He figured he had a fifty-fifty chance of being right. If someone was turning the place over, it meant he was looking for something. And you don’t bother looking for something if you’re about to blow yourself up. At least that was what Harvath hoped. Lucky for them, he’d been right.
Harvath moved quickly inside, his weapon up and at the ready. Murphy was right behind him. They hadn’t even made it through the living room when there was a burst of automatic weapons fire and rounds came slamming through the wall at the other end of the room. Harvath and Murphy hit the floor.
The Green Beret came up onto his elbows and prepared to return fire, but Harvath waved him off. They had no idea where Chase was. They couldn’t just fire blindly through the walls.
“Phoenix Three!” Harvath yelled. “Are you in here?”
“Harvath?” came the reply.
“Roger that.”
“I’m coming out. Don’t shoot.”
Chase stepped out into the hallway and walked toward them. His arm was covered with blood.
“Is there anyone else here?”
Chase shook his head. As Murphy swept the rest of the apartment, Harvath ripped open Chase’s sleeve and checked his wound.
“Does it hurt?”
“A lot. It hit bone.”
“We’ll get you taken care of,” replied Harvath. “Right now we’ve got to get out of here. Is there anything worth gathering up?”
“Maybe. I turned the place upside down fast and dirty, but couldn’t find anything. If we had more time—”
“We don’t.” Already the sounds of approaching emergency vehicles could be heard in the distance.
“The apartment is clean,” said Murphy as he rejoined them. “What do you want to do?”
Harvath knew what he didn’t want to do. He didn’t want to walk through the throngs of people out on the street, around behind the burning building and off into the woods to pick up Murphy’s car. Too much could go wrong. His car, the one with the book on the dashboard, though, was parked right outside. It didn’t matter if people saw it or gave a description to police. They wouldn’t be using it long enough to make a difference. All they needed to be able to do was make it back to the barn.
With Murphy on point, the three men exited the apartment and quickly made their way down the stairs. They laid Chase down on the backseat. Murphy rode shotgun and Harvath slid behind the wheel.
The onlookers stared, their mouths agape. They didn’t know what to make of any of it. The last thing the trio heard as they sped off were the cries of revulsion from the crowd as Harvath drove over the body of the dead terrorist still lying sprawled in the middle of the street.
CHAPTER 28
Two extensive medical kits had been allotted for the operation. One was with Riley Turner and Mansoor, who, along with Andy Bachmann, had already left for the airport near Stockholm. The other belonged to the assault team and was sitting in the back of the moving truck