The Teeth of the Tiger - Tom Clancy [121]
He walked right in now, straight at the bastard.
For his part, Zuhayr stopped fighting the suddenly massive weight on his weapon, and stood as straight as he could, looking in the eyes of his killer. "Allabu Ackbar," he said.
"That's nice," Brian replied, and fired right into his forehead. "I hope you like it in hell" Then he bent down and picked up the Ingram, slinging it over his back.
"Clear it and leave it, Aldo," Dominic commanded. Brian did just that. "Jesus, I hope somebody called 911," he observed.
"Okay, follow me upstairs," Dominic said next.
"What-why?"
"What if there's more'n four of 'em?" The reply-question was like a punch in Brian's mouth.
"Okay, I got your six, bro."
It struck both of them as incredible that the escalator was still working, but they rode it up, both crouching and scanning all around. There were women all over the place-all over meaning as far from the escalator as possible "FBI!" Dominic called. "Is everybody okay here?"
"Yes," came multiple, separate, and equivocal replies from around the second floor.
Enzo's professional identity came back into full command: "Okay, we have it under control. The police will be here shortly. Until they get here, just sit tight."
The twins walked from the top of the "up" escalator to the top of the "down" one. It was immediately clear that the shooters hadn't come up here.
The ride down was dreadful beyond words. Again, there were pools of blood on a straight line from perfume to handbags, and now the lucky ones who were merely wounded were crying out for help. And, again, the twins had more important things to do. Dominic led his brother out into the main concourse. He turned left to check the first one he'd shot.
This one was dead beyond question. His last ten-millimeter bullet had exploded out through his right eye.
On reflection, that left only one, if he was still alive.
He was, despite all of his hits. Mustafa was trying to move, but his muscles were drained of blood and oxygen, and were not listening to the commands that came through the central nervous system. He found himself looking up, somewhat dreamily it seemed, even to him.
"You have a name?" one of them asked.
Dominic had only halfway expected an answer. The man was clearly dying, and not slowly, either. He turned to look for his brother-not there. "Hey, Aldo!" he called, to no immediate response.
Brian was in Legends, a sporting-goods shop, taking a quick look. His initiative was rewarded, and he took it back to the mall corridor.
Dominic was there, talking to his "suspect," but without getting much of a response.
"Hey, raghead," Brian said, returning. Then he knelt down in the blood beside the dying terrorist. "I got something for you."
Mustafa looked up in some puzzlement. He knew that death was close, and while he didn't exactly welcome it, he was content in his own mind that he'd done his duty to his Faith, and to Allah's Law.
Brian grabbed the terrorist's hands and crossed them on his bleeding chest. "I want you to carry this to hell with you. It's a pigskin, asshole, made from the skin of a real Iowa pig." And Brian held his hands on the football as he looked into the bastard's eyes.
The eyes went wide with recognition-and horror at the moment's transgression. He willed his arms to move away, but the infidel's hands overpowered his efforts.
"Yeah, that's right. I am Iblis himself, and you're going to my place." Brian smiled until the eyes went lifeless.
"What's that about?"
"Save it," Brian responded. "Come on."
They headed for where it had all started. A lot of women were on the floor,