you?”
“Right now I’m your best friend, but that could change in a snap. This way. I have a car.”
“I’m not going with you. You are American. CIA?”
“We’ll discuss it when we get you someplace safe.” The two Americans started walking, but Marris lagged back.
“I don’t want to go.”
Kolt had no plans to spend another thirty seconds in this alley. “With due respect, Doctor, I don’t give a shit. I was ordered to get you out of here. I neglected to ask my superiors if I needed your approval to save your life.”
“And if I refuse? What? Will you shoot me?”
Raynor sighed. “Yeah, but just in the leg.”
“You gonna carry him, boss?” asked Slapshot.
“Why do you think I brought you along?”
To Marris, the Americans seemed absolutely serious. He stood and walked quickly with them up the street. He was still in shock, and therefore somewhat compliant, but Kolt knew the shock would soon wear off.
As they turned into a larger road, a car shot out of a darkened garage, then stopped in the alleyway right alongside them.
“Get in back,” Raynor ordered Marris.
“No. I want to find a taxi.”
“ This is your taxi, Doctor,” Raynor said, and he shoved the big man inside.
Slapshot had already climbed into the backseat, and Digger was behind the wheel.
Dr. Marris tried to climb back out of the open door, but Kolt shoved in next to him, effectively pinning him between the two operators.
“I want out of here!” Marris yelled.
But Kolt ignored him, and shouted to Digger behind the wheel. “We’re up! Primary War RV!”
“Roger.” The car took off on the narrow streets of the Old City.
“Did you hear me?” Marris continued. “I said I don’t want to go with you!”
Kolt shouted at the man who was now pressed against him. “Listen! I have to keep you alive. That is my job. But I don’t have to keep you happy. You are coming with us to the embassy.”
Marris reached over Raynor and grabbed at the door latch.
Kolt elbowed Marris hard in the face.
“Ahhh!” the Canadian screamed as he cradled his nose in his fingertips. “You broke my nose!”
“No, I didn’t.”
Marris held his nose with both hands. His lip dripped blood. “How can you be sure?”
“Because I know what it sounds like when I break someone’s nose. You’ll be fine.”
On the main road out of the Medina, the car lurched to a stop just short of the Al Kornish Road. The three men in the back rocked forward as one, with the loss of the car’s forward momentum.
The front passenger door opened and Curtis climbed in. They were moving again even before he shut the door.
Curtis turned to the backseat, saw Marris bleeding from the nose just as one of the JSOC operators placed a black hood on his head, just over his eyes so he could still breathe and talk. It was Delta SOP to protect the identity of the operators during the exfil, but Curtis clearly did not understand this treatment of his VIP.
“What the hell are you doing? That’s not necessary!”
Kolt shrugged but said nothing. The hood stayed on.
Curtis looked angrily at Racer and Slapshot for an explanation, but when none came he turned his attention to Marris and said, “Dr. Marris, I know at the moment you might be a little miffed, but—”
“A little miffed? These two monsters just killed several men right in front of me.”
Curtis again looked to the Americans in the backseat, a flash of surprise and anger on his face now. But he recovered enough to give an explanation to Tripwire. “Your life was in danger.”
“ My life! My life! I did not ask them to take so many lives on my behalf! I could have talked my way out of this. Or your men could have used pepper spray or rubber bullets or…”
While Tripwire talked, Slapshot laughed aloud on his right. “‘Pepper spray,’” he mimicked.
On Tripwire’s left, Kolt Raynor scanned out the window for threats, and he called up to the CIA man in the front seat. “We can drop him off at
“Right now I’m your best friend, but that could change in a snap. This way. I have a car.”
“I’m not going with you. You are American. CIA?”
“We’ll discuss it when we get you someplace safe.” The two Americans started walking, but Marris lagged back.
“I don’t want to go.”
Kolt had no plans to spend another thirty seconds in this alley. “With due respect, Doctor, I don’t give a shit. I was ordered to get you out of here. I neglected to ask my superiors if I needed your approval to save your life.”
“And if I refuse? What? Will you shoot me?”
Raynor sighed. “Yeah, but just in the leg.”
“You gonna carry him, boss?” asked Slapshot.
“Why do you think I brought you along?”
To Marris, the Americans seemed absolutely serious. He stood and walked quickly with them up the street. He was still in shock, and therefore somewhat compliant, but Kolt knew the shock would soon wear off.
As they turned into a larger road, a car shot out of a darkened garage, then stopped in the alleyway right alongside them.
“Get in back,” Raynor ordered Marris.
“No. I want to find a taxi.”
“ This is your taxi, Doctor,” Raynor said, and he shoved the big man inside.
Slapshot had already climbed into the backseat, and Digger was behind the wheel.
Dr. Marris tried to climb back out of the open door, but Kolt shoved in next to him, effectively pinning him between the two operators.
“I want out of here!” Marris yelled.
But Kolt ignored him, and shouted to Digger behind the wheel. “We’re up! Primary War RV!”
“Roger.” The car took off on the narrow streets of the Old City.
“Did you hear me?” Marris continued. “I said I don’t want to go with you!”
Kolt shouted at the man who was now pressed against him. “Listen! I have to keep you alive. That is my job. But I don’t have to keep you happy. You are coming with us to the embassy.”
Marris reached over Raynor and grabbed at the door latch.
Kolt elbowed Marris hard in the face.
“Ahhh!” the Canadian screamed as he cradled his nose in his fingertips. “You broke my nose!”
“No, I didn’t.”
Marris held his nose with both hands. His lip dripped blood. “How can you be sure?”
“Because I know what it sounds like when I break someone’s nose. You’ll be fine.”
On the main road out of the Medina, the car lurched to a stop just short of the Al Kornish Road. The three men in the back rocked forward as one, with the loss of the car’s forward momentum.
The front passenger door opened and Curtis climbed in. They were moving again even before he shut the door.
Curtis turned to the backseat, saw Marris bleeding from the nose just as one of the JSOC operators placed a black hood on his head, just over his eyes so he could still breathe and talk. It was Delta SOP to protect the identity of the operators during the exfil, but Curtis clearly did not understand this treatment of his VIP.
“What the hell are you doing? That’s not necessary!”
Kolt shrugged but said nothing. The hood stayed on.
Curtis looked angrily at Racer and Slapshot for an explanation, but when none came he turned his attention to Marris and said, “Dr. Marris, I know at the moment you might be a little miffed, but—”
“A little miffed? These two monsters just killed several men right in front of me.”
Curtis again looked to the Americans in the backseat, a flash of surprise and anger on his face now. But he recovered enough to give an explanation to Tripwire. “Your life was in danger.”
“ My life! My life! I did not ask them to take so many lives on my behalf! I could have talked my way out of this. Or your men could have used pepper spray or rubber bullets or…”
While Tripwire talked, Slapshot laughed aloud on his right. “‘Pepper spray,’” he mimicked.
On Tripwire’s left, Kolt Raynor scanned out the window for threats, and he called up to the CIA man in the front seat. “We can drop him off at
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