Sleeper's Run

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

It takes one day for my extradition papers to go through, which must be a record in the annals of bureaucracy, and makes me wonder what the Americans offered the French in exchange. The GIGN officers strap a bite shield around my face a la Hannibal Lecter, and a tracking device to my ankle. My four-man security team takes me to an underground garage and secures me inside a police van. They will be riding in the van with me. Trishna rides in the trailing car.

We leave the police station escorted by two cars and four motorcycles; a helicopter joins us shortly afterwards. It's late at night, traffic is light and it has been raining for a while. They seem to be trying to keep my transfer as low profile as possible. The truth is, I'm so tired and distraught that all they need is a parking enforcement agent to push me around in a wheelchair.

Capture was always a possibility, just like when you go out on a mission, you know you might not make it back; shit happens, so you learn to live with it. But betrayal is harder to stomach. It's not a random act, but a cold, premeditated one. As dark as the world of counter terrorism is, it doesn't hold a candle to human intelligence. Those people have no soul. Now I understand why Dante put traitors in the ninth circle of hell to be chewed up by Satan himself. I feel as if the life has been sucked out of my body. Fucking Trishna... of all people.

The signs on the road indicate we're headed to Le Bourget Airport outside Paris, not too far from Charles de Gaulle. By the looks of it, it only services general aviation and private jets. The security guards by the gate let us right in, as if they knew we were coming. Once inside, the helicopter flies away.

As we ride by a row of hangars and buildings, the sound of glass shattering catches me by surprise. The head of our driver bursts like a watermelon and everything goes quiet. It takes me a second to realize that the men flanking me have also lost most of their faces. Both side windows are broken and I'm covered with their blood and brain matter. All of a sudden wearing the bite shield doesn't feel that bad anymore.

One of the two remaining officers uses his body to protect me, even though my chains limit my movement. I hear the car behind us pulling over to our side and see Trishna looking terrified. A burly agent opens the van's door with weapon in hand using the vehicles for cover.

"Stay down!" he screams at me in French. "Officers down!" He tells the policemen in the car.

"I can't move!" I say, pulling on my chains.

One of the officers unhooks my restraints from the van.

"Keep your head down!" the cop says as he pulls me out.

A bullet goes right through the car door and then his torso as if his body armor wasn't even there. Another round goes through the windshield and takes the head of the driver right off his shoulders while exiting through the back window missing another agent by inches.

"The car is dead!" the man in the passenger seat says.

As far as I can tell, there are three coordinated snipers using .50 caliber rounds. They have triangulated the motorcade in a kill zone. The motorcycle cops have disappeared. More shots ring out, this time they focus on the third vehicle.

"Get over here!" a cop yells, reaching out for me.

I jump out of the van and try to hop to him as fast as I can, but the leg restraints make me fall to the ground. The officer tries to pick me up, when a bullet punches through the door and explodes through his thorax. The round dislodges the officer's arm from his shoulder. This is a slaughter!

"Get under the car!" I say to Trishna.

She slides out of the car. "They're going to kill us!"

"Look at me! You need to focus," I say. "Get under the car."

"What?"

"Do it!"

Trishna takes a deep breath, getting a hold of herself, and obeys. Once she is safely under the car, I crawl underneath the van looking for cover. From here, I witness the last two policemen in the lead car in front of me being torn apart. The rain makes it hard to see, so the snipers must be using thermal scopes. There's a sound of metal striking right above me. Soon, engine liquids start bleeding out to the ground. All agents are killed and every car has been neutralized. These snipers have talent. The only reason that I'm still alive is because I'm not their intended target.

I keep hearing shots, but I can't tell whom they're shooting at now. They're probably targeting the motorcycle cops. So I push my luck and crawl out of my hiding place to take the sidearm from a downed cop. I shoot the chain binding my restraints and pick up a bloodied MP5.

If the snipers have eyes on me, that means they also know Trishna remains. A voice inside me tells me to let the bitch die; she deserves nothing less after what she did to me. Fortunately for Trishna, it's a very faint voice.

"We're getting out of here," I say as I slide the pistol toward Trishna.

"How?" She makes sure the gun is good and ready.

"They're here for me," I say while checking my own. "Stay close to me no matter what; they won't shoot."

"How can you be sure?"

"The bullets will go through you and kill me," I say and hope my theory about the shooters is correct.

"That's not very reassuring."

"It's your only chance. Otherwise we're sitting here waiting for them to pick us off. Let's go."

"I must be out of my mind," she says leaving her cover. "Here," she says as she puts my lighter in my hand. "For luck."

We're going to need it.

I hold onto Trishna and we begin to walk quickly toward the hangars looking for protection. I recite the PJ's code in my head waiting to hear a detonation at any moment. "It is my duty as a pararescueman to save lives and to aid the injured. I will be prepared at all times to perform my assigned duties quickly and efficiently, placing these duties before personal desires and comforts. These things I do, that others may live." By the time we reach the buildings, a car comes out of an alley speeding in our direction. We reach the airport's fence and I help Trishna over.

"Run!" I say climbing the fence.

She hesitates "Eric..."

"Run goddammit! Run!"

I hear a loud thud before I feel a bone-jarring impact on my back that knocks me down to ground. I try to fight through the pain, but I'm shot with another beanbag right on my side.

Fuck this! I keep struggling on the ground, but the pain istoo intense. Then I feel the familiar shock of a stun gun. I'm beginning todevelop a real hatred for those damned things.