For Hire (NaNoWriMo13)

VI: We Are Deep In Hell

My heart seems to have migrated to my throat and is threatening to burst out of my mouth.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I’m in the fucking middle of crosshairs and the only thing I could use as a shield, is this skeletal frame of this double-crossing Chinese. Great. Just great.

I mutter a curse at him. I look over to the barricade of armor-clad men in front of me. The FBI initials stood stark white and bold in their uniforms.

Beads of sweat roll down my temple. My hand holding the gun feels clammy and slippery with sweat.

“I’ll see it myself that your brains splatter to the ground, and your chest riddled with bullet holes.” I hiss in the Chinese’s ear as I tighten my hold onto him. He winces in response.

“Drop your weapons. Now!” Demands the head of the assault team.

Blood roars in my ears. Think, Talia. How do you get out of here?

I cast my eyes around for any form of diversion I can find.

Then I found it.

For our sakes, I hope Drummond acts the way I want him to.

I take in a deep breath and without further hesitation; I swiftly raise my gun and shoot the windows high above the entrance.

Pandemonium breaks out.

The FBI men scatter like ants doused with water as shards of broken window glasses rain upon them in glittering madness. I push the Chinese over the crates where Drummond grabs him and plows him down, and then I also leap over the crates as bullets whistle past me. Dammit! One bullet grazes my arm as I slide down. I clap a hand on my arm and press my back against the crates. I see Salahov and his men dive for cover in various things for safety. Drummond and I flinch as bullets riddle the crates.

“You alright?” Drummond asks.

“It’s nothing! Now what?” I yell at Drummond over the din of gunshots. He furiously rakes his pockets and produces two radio earpieces and tosses me one of it.

“Why couldn’t you have given me this before?” I yell again incredulously.

“I never thought we might actually need it,” he says defensively as he places the earpiece in his left ear, “we have to tell HQ the situation.”

“What you’re hoping that he’ll send a frigging extraction team?” I reply sardonically. The Chinese starts to struggle for freedom, and in my mad bitterness I hit him with a back fist in the chest. He’s reduce to a long bout of coughing and wheezing, “This is all your fucking fault, so stay put or I’ll bury a bullet in between your eyes.”

“You talk to him, press the second button, I’ll cover you.” He says, and then he starts shooting, with one knee bent down.

I press the button and the earpiece crackles to life.

“Director, can you hear me? This is Rosenberg speaking.” I speak. It crackles again and he replies.

“What is your status Rosenberg?”

“Critical. The Chinese traders, they set us up. The FBIs are swarming all over us.” The earpiece crackles and hisses but no words come out. I turn to Drummond.

“Shit, I think FBI’s got a jammer.”

He takes cover again and presses his back against the crates.

“As long as he knows we are deep in hell, we gotta do what we gotta do,” he glances at our car and looks back at me, “we need to get back to the car, barrel our way out of this. It’s our best shot.”