Becca XXX - Hard Time Ch. 16

I moved over to the opposite door and placed my ear to it. I couldn't hear anything on the other side, but I was still cautious. After a quick push and glance down the corridor, I pressed on in search of my target and his daughter.

"Becca, we're approaching the east end of the villa. We'll catch up with you. Over." said Whitehouse.

"Copy that. Pushing into the west corridor and then out onto the decked area. From there it's a short run down the steps and onto the jetty. Hopefully the boat will still be there. Over."

"Copy that. Out."

Being in a corridor always made me feel very vulnerable during a gun battle. I was pretty sure the coast was clear behind me, but I had no idea what was waiting for me to the front. There were several alcoves which could be hiding the militia, so I kept my weapon up and my eyes scanning as far down the corridor as I could.

I saw movement to the left, about ten metres in front of me. I froze, dropped to my knees and fired a double tap into the alcove. Suddenly all hell broke loose and rounds stitched into the floor and wall in front of me. I ducked into an alcove and waited for the firing to stop.

Phut - phut - phut - phut.

Crash - thwump - thwump - thud.

More rounds came in on my position from a different angle and I knew there must have been more than one of them. I was pinned down and couldn't even wait until one of them reloaded because the other one would still be shooting at me.

"Capitol, Are you there? Over," I spoke into the net.

"Copy that. I see them on thermal," he replied, already knowing why I was calling him. "Stay put. I'm just adjusting for windage... aaaaannnnnddd... lights out, one."

Crash - splat - thud.

I heard a round punch through the wall and hit the guy nearest to me followed by a wet splashing sound before I even heard the gun shot. A fifty-calibre projectile travelling at two-thousand-eight-hundred feet per second would kill you before you even heard it.

"Aaaaaannnd... lights out, two."

Crash - splat - thud.

"Tangos down. You're clear to advance. Over."

A second shot destroyed another human body a few metres further down from the first and I burst out of my hiding place and continued my journey to the end of the corridor unimpeded.

"Thanks Capitol. I owe you one. Over," I sniggered.

"I'll hold you to that. Over," he giggled.

I stepped over the headless bodies and waited by the door which led outside.

I crouched down and listened.

I could hear feet shuffling on the other side of the door. Someone was waiting for me to stick my head out and I knew I would be walking out into a hail of bullets. I pulled back behind the wall and got back on the net.

"Capitol, can you see the south-west corner of the building? Over," I asked.

"No, there're too many trees in the way. It's out of my line of sight. Sorry, you're on your own. I need to cover the rest of the team from the east. Over."

"Copy that. Out."

I heard shots and grenades going off in the villa somewhere behind me as Whitehouse and his men fought their way towards me. Capitol would occasionally join in from his sniper position to help them out so I knew I was now on my own. There was no other route down to the jetty other than this one or back tracking, which I didn't have time for. I needed to get to the boat which I could now hear powering up its engines in readiness to leave.

With an unknown number of enemies only metres away on the other side of the door, I was just going to have to go for it.

I pulled the pin on another grenade and gripped the door handle with my freehand. I was in cover behind the wall to the right of the door which opened inwards to the left. I yanked the handle down and flung the door open before ducking back behind the wall as a barrage of rapid fire filled the door way.

Phut - phut - phut - phut.

Crash - thwump - thwump - thud.

The wood and plaster splintered all around me, but it couldn't penetrate brick so I was safe enough. They'd been expecting me to be standing in the door way as it opened and they had fired blindly at the first sign of movement. There was so much noise and confusion that they didn't hear the grenade roll along the decking until it was too late.

"SHIT... GRENAAADE," one of them shouted.

BOOM.

I leaned out at floor level and picked off any stray targets. One guy was running for cover, but I hit him in the back of the head and he slumped down onto the ground. There had been two other guys waiting for me, but both had been peppered in shrapnel although they were still alive.

Phut - phut.

Phut - phut.

A couple of double-taps to their heads put them out of their misery. I glanced around the decking and saw no other threats so I rapidly moved to the steps. Cautiously peering over the edge, I kept my weapon trained on the jetty and waited.

In the distance I could see the huge luxury boat pulling away from the dock and my heart sank. Sasha and Charles must have been safely stowed away and were now making their escape. I ran down the steps three at a time throwing caution to the wind in the hope that I could make it to the boat and jump the gap between it and the jetty, but I was sadly mistaken. No sooner had I got onto the wooden jetty when more fire rained in on me from the boat and the militia hiding behind the dock fenders fifty metres away.

The boat slowly chugged out of the marina, but I knew that as soon as it got into open water it would be a different story. Once it left the shallow marina, the skipper would open the throttles and they'd be gone.

I ducked down behind a concrete wall and shouted into the comms system.

"The target is making a move," I cried. "The boat's leaving the marina. Where the fuck are you guys? Over."

As I said that, I heard shooting from the decking above me and looked up to see the three-man CIA team opening up on the boat.

Phut - phut - phut.

Phut - phut - phut.

Phut - phut - phut.

"We can't let them leave," shouted Whitehouse. "Capitol, move position and hit the boat with the Strela before it rounds the point."

Chink - clink - bang - thud.

Bullets hit the wall I was hiding behind as well as the villa and decking area above me. The enemy weren't out of the fight yet and they were hell bent on keeping us away from their escaping leader. Of the twenty-five men I'd counted on arrival, I knew I'd killed ten of them with the help of Capitol and I knew Whitehouse's team would have done a similar amount. The men left on the jetty were the only line of defence between us and Hamilton. The boat crew were also armed, but there didn't seem to be many of them.

"Copy that," Capitol replied.

"Hold fire on the missile," I cried. "I'm going after Sasha. We can't leave her to die."

"Negative, agent Becca. We're blowing the boat. We have orders," Whitehouse bellowed back, returning fire on the men left on the jetty. "Stay put. Over."

"Fuck your orders. Keep their heads down, I'm going for the jet ski," I spat back.

There was no way I was going to leave Sasha to be blown to pieces; she'd done nothing wrong and I wasn't about to sit by and do nothing. I changed mags on the MP7, pulled the cocking lever and shouldered the weapon. After a deep breath, I broke cover and sprinted down the jetty towards the nearest jet ski.

"Becca, no. What the fuck are you doing? Over." shouted Whitehouse.

"She's going after Sasha. We better give her some covering fire," cried Liberty. "The crazy British bitch is going anyway."

All three men opened up on the remaining militia with everything they had. Bullets whizzed over my head from the suppressing fire, but also bounced off of the jetty from the enemy. Grenades exploded short of their position and my whole world seemed to be a blur of noise and dirt.

Phut-ut-ut-ut-ut-ut.

Boom.

Chink - chink - clink - bang.

Phut-ut-ut-ut-ut-ut.

Phut-ut-ut-ut-ut-ut.

I kept on running with sweat and blood dripping off my face. My whole body felt grimy and dirty as I watched the boat get to the edge of the harbour. It felt like I was running through treacle, as though I was never going to get to the jet ski. It was moored up to my right where the jetty dropped down onto a smaller pontoon about ten metres away. I gave it everything I'd got hoping the CIA would keep the enemies heads down for a few more seconds.

Suddenly I heard a thud in front of me and glanced down to see a small round object bouncing its way towards me. I knew instantly that it was a grenade and I took two more long steps before diving off the jetty and into the sea.

BOOM.

The sound of the explosion was muffled as I hit the water. My MP7 was ripped from my hands, but I was just glad to be alive. Cool salty water washed over me while I stayed submerged and swam in the direction of the jet ski. I must have been leaving a trail of blood behind me as it washed from my skin leaving me feeling refreshed and new. It had been non-stop since I'd killed Maurice and I still hadn't gotten to my target. It felt oddly serene to be swimming in crystal clear water during the battle, but the world of noise and fire returned as I surfaced next to the jet ski.

Phut-ut-ut-ut-ut-ut.

Phut-ut-ut-ut-ut-ut.

Chink - chink - clink - bang.

The firing had reduced considerably, but Whitehouse's team were still firing on the remaining men. I saw a look of relief on his face as he saw that I was still in one piece and that I hadn't been killed by the blast. I pulled myself out of the water and smoothed my hair back, checking that I still had my UCP on my chest holster. The MP7 was now at the bottom of the marina, but at least I was still armed. I kept low and climbed onto the Yamaha after untying it from its mooring post. Jet skis require a lanyard to be fitted to a dead-man switch before they can be started and I found one hanging on the handle bar. The other end of the lanyard goes around the rider's wrist so that the engine is cut if the rider falls off. I slipped the plastic key under the switch, wrapped it around my wrist and pressed the start button.

Vroom.

The ski burst into life with a burble of the engine beneath me. It reminded me of my Ducati with the lovely vibration between my legs, but I had no time to enjoy it. Whitehouse bellowed back into my ear piece, telling me to stand down, but I ignored him.

"Becca, the boat's about to turn out of our line of sight. We have to blow it now. You're too late. Do not engage. I repeat, stand down. Over," he shouted.

I didn't bother to reply, I just pulled the throttle lever with my finger and sped after the departing vessel.

"BECCA, STAND DOWN."

The white iridescent wake of the boat shone in the moonlight as I gave chase. The jet ski accelerated hard and I felt myself smiling like an idiot at the exhilaration of the ride. I was actually enjoying it despite the danger. I'd pushed my fear deep down and now all that mattered was completing my mission.

I honestly thought I was going to win this as I closed in, but then I heard the order being given by Sullivan and my whole world changed.

"Capitol, fire on that ship. Take it down now," he said into the comms network.

"Copy that. Firing."

"NOOOOOOOOOO," I shouted as I heard the rocket engage behind me.

There was a crackling noise followed by a huge whoosh as the missile flew over my head with a trail of smoke behind it. I watched in horror as it got ever closer to the ship. The boat started to turn the corner around the point of the island and, for a moment, I thought the missile was going to miss. Just before the boat disappeared around the corner, the Strela continued its journey and hit the boat on its starboard rear quarter.

CABOOM.

The three-and-a-half kilo fragmentation warhead detonated on impact in a huge fireball, destroying the stern of the boat. The boat slewed to starboard and began to slow down as I raced after it. I wanted to be angry with Whitehouse for giving the order to fire, but there was no point. He had a job to do as much as I did and I was sure that his superiors were far harsher on insubordination than mine were.

The boat remained afloat a few hundred metres ahead of me, but I was no longer being shot at by the crew. As the smoke cleared a little, I could see that the bow of the boat and most of the midship were still intact and it gave me some hope that Sasha was still alive. Within seconds I was alongside the burning vessel, feeling the searing heat from the flames.

I pulled the ski up next to the boat and pulled the pistol from my tactical vest. I checked the chamber and that I still had spare mags with me and then tied the ski up and made ready to move. Although it seemed quiet on the ship, I was still cautious in case anyone else was still left alive. I just hoped I could get to Sasha before the boat sank.

Gripping the stainless steel handle, I slowly ascended the ladder and peered over the deck. This section of the boat appeared unaffected by the explosion and it was deserted. The fire crackled and roared to the stern while I jumped up on the deck and assessed the situation. The acrid smell of burning filled the air and my heart was pounding in my chest once more. I wanted to call out to Sasha, but thought better of it in case any of the armed guards were still baying for blood. I still needed the element of surprise.

"Becca, get out of there," said Whitehouse in a calmer voice. "The ship's about to sink. Over."

I ignored his request and squatted down on the port side, listening and watching for any signs of movement.

"Becca. Acknowledge. Over," he wasn't giving up, but neither was I.

The ship was a tri-deck design with the bedrooms being on the lower deck. The mid-deck was the living and working area and the top deck was the control room and helm. I glanced at the stern of the ship which had been pretty much destroyed by the missile. What was once a glorious sun deck with a jacuzzi and access to the sea was now a burning mass of flaming wreckage.

I was definitely alone so I pushed forwards to the living area. It was quieter in the cabin and surprisingly the lights and air conditioning were still on. They must have been running off of a separate generator and it felt lovely and cool in there. The ship was very luxurious, fitted out with the obligatory leather interior and marble effect floor tiles. It would have smelt of new-car-scent if it wasn't for the smoke and fumes leaking in through the blown-out windows at the back.

I stopped and listened again.

I heard nothing so I pushed further into the cabin and stopped in my tracks. The tiled floor had a long trail of blood all over it as though someone had been dragged bleeding in the direction of the fore-cabin. There wasn't a huge amount of blood, but it told me that someone was still alive and that they had possibly dragged an injured person away from the immediate area of danger after the missile had struck.

With my pistol drawn and held out in front of me with both hands, I crept forwards, keeping low and using the furniture as cover. It was eerily quiet and I had a feeling that I was about to encounter the enemy at any second - I could almost taste them.

Sure enough, as I got half way across the lounge, shots echoed around the cavernous room from the doorway.

Thud - thud - thud.

Thud - thud - thud.

I ducked behind the sofa as the rounds hit the wall where I'd been standing. The sofa offered good cover from view, but little cover from fire. I needed to keep moving and take down whoever was shooting at me before his bullets penetrated the back rest and killed me. I fired two shots over the back of the sofa before breaking cover and diving across the room to the other side. As I passed the gap, I glanced at the doorway to see if I could spot my attacker.

There was one guy crouching down and he appeared to be alone. I landed behind another sofa and rolled up onto my knees, pulling my weapon into the aim. I lined up the rear and front sights, stared down the barrel of the UCP and pulled my aim left until his head filled my sight-picture. Squeezing the trigger twice in rapid succession, I felt the kick-back of the recoil, re-aimed and fired two more.

Thud - thud.

Thud - thud.

The sound of my unsuppressed pistol firing in such a large room was deafening to me. I watched the guy reel sideways and slump down against the wall with blood splattering all over the leather trim behind him. There was no time to lose. If there was anyone else left alive, they'd know I was here, now that I'd gone loud. I rushed forwards, weapon up and fired two more shots through his face to make sure.

Thud - thud.

My eyes scanned in all directions and waited for a follow up from his team mates, but nothing came.

I waited for a good ten seconds and then carried on.

I was now in a short hallway which connected the aft-cabin to a larger fore-cabin. The larger cabin was another living area decorated in a different colour to the rear, but the same blood trail had continued through. My eyes tracked it and I saw a body lying on the floor on the starboard side in the corner of the room.

The body was wearing a white bath robe and had long blonde hair.

I knew instantly who it was.

It was Sasha.

My heart sank when I saw her blood splattered legs covered in lacerations and bruises. Her face was also covered in cuts, but none of them looked life threatening. I needed to get to her and check her out, but I had to clear the rest of the room first.

I jinked my weapon left and right and moved from the hallway and into the large room. A figure came into view to my left, wearing the same robe as Sasha and he was equally as battered and bruised.

It was Charles.

He had his hands up in the air in a surrender, but I wasn't going to take any chances with this guy. He hadn't lived this long on the wrong side of the law without good reason. I kept my weapon aiming at his centre mass and moved past the door, closing it behind me. I glanced left and right and scanned the whole room, before focussing my attention on him.

"I'm alone," he said, sounding panicked and upset. "You've just killed the last one of them," he nodded to where I'd just come from.

"Are there any more?" I asked, unwavering.

"No. Whatever you fired at the boat killed the rest of them. It threw me and Sasha through the rear glass doors and I dragged her in here. She's not responding... please take a look at her... I can't lose her... help her, please," he started to sob.

"Don't fucking move or I'll kill you where you stand," I snapped. "It's your fault she's in this situation in the first place."

I shuffled sideways over towards Sasha, keeping him in my sights as I went.

"If you hadn't brought her here, none of this would have happened," he protested. "This is your doing, not mine."

He had a point, but I wasn't going to tell him that.

"If you weren't a gun-running warlord asshole, I wouldn't have had to come to kill you," I hissed, dropping to my knees next to his daughter. "I'm going to check her out. Don't fucking move."

I placed my pistol on the floor next to her lifeless body and undid her robe. I could see her chest rising and falling so I knew she was breathing; that was a good sign. Placing my fingertips on her neck, I felt a good strong pulse, but she was unresponsive.

"Sasha, wake up babe, it's me Becca," I said loudly, shaking her shoulder to try and wake her up.

"She's been like that since the explosion. I can't get her to wake up," said Charles. "Is she going to be ok?"

He had genuine concern in his voice, but there was something else there too. I glanced up to check on him, but he hadn't moved.