Patriot games - Tom Clancy [259]
"Well, where are they, man?" Alex asked.
Miller looked around in stunned amazement. Two of his men were dead on the floor, their guns were gone-and so were
"Where the hell are they!" Alex repeated.
"Search the house!" Miller screamed. He and Alex stayed in the room. The black man looked at him with an unforgiving stare.
"Did I go through all this to watch you fuck up again?"
The three men returned a few seconds later and reported the house empty. Miller had already determined that his men's guns were gone. Something had gone wrong. He took his people outside.
Paulson had a new spot and finally could see his targets again. He counted twelve, then more joined from the house. They seemed to be confused as he watched the images on his night-sight gesture at one another. Some men were talking while others just milled around waiting for orders. Several appeared to be hurt, but he couldn't tell for sure.
"They're gone." Alex said it before Miller had a chance.
O'Donnell couldn't believe it. Sean explained in a rapid, halting voice while Dobbens looked on.
"Your boy fucked up," Dobbens said.
It was just too much. Miller slipped his own Uzi behind his back and retrieved the one he'd taken from the Secret Service agent. He brought it up in one smooth motion and fired into Alex's chest from a distance of three feet. Louis looked at his fallen boss for a second, then tried to bring his pistol up, but Miller cut him down, too.
"What the hell!" the spotter said.
Paulson flipped the rifle's safety off and centered his sight on the man who had just fired, killing two men-but whom had he killed? He could shoot only to save the lives of friendlies, and the dead men had almost certainly been bad guys. There weren't any hostages to be saved, as far as he could tell. Where the hell are they? One of the men near the cliff's edge appeared to shout something, and the others ran to join him. The marksman had his choice of targets, but without positive identification, he couldn't dare to fire a shot.
"Come on, baby," Jackson said to the engine. The motor was still cold and ran unevenly as he shifted to reverse. The boat moved slowly backward, away from the beach. Ryan had his Uzi trained on the other boat. The man there appeared again, and Ryan fired three rounds before the gun stopped. He cursed and switched magazines before firing a number of short bursts again to keep his head down.
"Men on the cliff," the Prince repeated. He'd taken the shotgun and had it aimed, but didn't fire. He didn't know who it was up there, and the range was too great in any case. Then flashes appeared. Whoever it was, they were firing at the boat. Ryan turned when he heard bullets hitting the water, and two thudded into the boat itself. Sissy Jackson screamed and grabbed at herself, while the Prince fired three rounds back.
Robby had the boat thirty yards from the beach now, and savagely brought the wheel around as he shifted the selector back into drive. When he rammed the throttle forward, the engine coughed again for one long, terrible moment, but then it caught and the boat surged forward.
"All right!" the aviator booted. "Jack-where to? How about Annapolis?"
"Do it!" Ryan agreed. He looked aft. There were men coming down the ladder. Some were still shooting at them but missing wildly. Next he saw that Sissy was holding her foot.
"Cathy, see if you can find a first-aid kit," His highness said. He'd already inspected the wound, but was now in the stern, facing aft with the shotgun at the ready. Jack saw a white plastic box under the driver's seat and slid it toward his wife.
"Rob, Sissy took a round in the foot," Jack said.
"I'm okay, Rob," his wife said at once. She didn't sound okay.
"How is it, Sis?" Cathy asked, moving to take a look.
"It hurts, but it's no big deal," she said through her teeth, trying to smile.
"You sure you're okay, honey?" Robby asked.
"Just go, Robby!" she gasped. Jack moved aft and looked. The bullet had gone straight through the top of her foot, and her light-colored shoe was