“I had no choice. They were going to kill me.”
Kline set the datapad on the bed and swung his case closed.
“We don’t have the luxury of containment anymore,” said Lee. “I’m sending you the information on some local mercs. Make sure everything tracks back to them.”
Beep! Beep! Beep! Kline’s datapad alerted him to a new danger. Multiple heat signatures. “They’re here.”
“KGB. Didn’t take them long. Contact me when you’re clean.”
Kline darted to the window. Fifty stories up. No way down. The room next door had a balcony. Boom! Boom! Two hard knocks at the door. Shouts in Russian. Kline rushed to the bathroom and felt the wall behind the bathtub.
Boom! Boom! Crash!
A battering ram.
Kline pushed four explosive clay pads into the bathroom wall and took a step back. BBBBGGGG!!! The small detonation left an imperfect, rectangular hole.
The front door splintered open. Kline dove into the adjacent room and bolted to the balcony. Heaving a nearby wooden chair through the glass window, he stepped out into the night air and pulled a long, thin cord from his coat. He wrapped the cord around one of the chair’s legs and secured the chair against the balcony’s railing. Grasping the cord, he swung out and repelled down the wall.
Halfway down.
Two bullets fractured the glass windows on either side of him—shots from KGB officers on the ground. Kline dropped a stun grenade. The officers scrambled, but too late. It went off. They hit the deck, dazed.
Fifteen feet left.
KGB officers reached the balcony and began sawing his cord. It snapped. He tumbled to the cement. Pushing himself up, he grabbed his ribs and hobbled down the street, making sure to weave through several alleyways.
He hit a side street. An old man hunched over his car and fumbled with the door. Kline placed the barrel of his silencer into the man’s skull. “Give me the keys.”
Now that I am really caught up…. it is fantastic to get my RSS feed when the next episode is ready. I hope everyone is as hooked as I am.