The Shadow Protocol by Andy McDermott Read Free Book Online Page B

ear, looking back as he raced into an alley. Marwat was not far behind him; Toradze was catching up fast.
    A voice from the other end of the crackling line. “Hello?”
    “Nasir, it’s Muhammad!” Khattak gasped. “Tor—” He broke off as a loud bang came from somewhere nearby, echoing off buildings. A grenade? “Toradze is working with the Americans! They’ve captured Syed!”
    There was no answer. “Nasir? Nasir, can you hear me?” Still only silence; even the crackle had gone. He looked at the phone’s screen: no network. But he was in the middle of the city!
    The explosion
. Toradze’s associates must have destroyed the nearest phone mast, cutting him off.
    But they would only have taken such drastic measures if they had been unable to shut down the entire network. If he got close enough to another mast, he could get a connection. The towers were dotted all over Peshawar—surely one couldn’t be far …
    A rooftop! If he were clear of the surrounding buildings, he would get a better signal. Khattak reached the end of the alley, emerging on a street. He looked up.
    An apartment block across the road stood five floorshigh, taller than its neighbors. Rain-soaked laundry hung heavily from a line on its roof. There was a way up there. He swerved around a passing autorickshaw and ran for the building’s entrance. “Don’t let him get to the roof!” he called back to Marwat.
    “The cell tower’s down,” Holly Jo told Adam. “We cut off his call.”
    Adam didn’t reply. It wouldn’t take Khattak long to get into range of another mast.
    Marwat angled right as he ran out from the alley’s far end, following Khattak. Adam was only seconds behind, gaining on the two men. He had the SIG in his hand, but knew that the chances of hitting a running target while he himself was sprinting were practically zero, even with his training. Instead, he rushed into the open—
    To see a car coming at him.
    The battered Nissan was barely doing twenty miles per hour, but still slithered on the wet road, ill-maintained brakes shrilling. Adam banged both hands down on its hood to absorb some of the impact, taking a painful blow to his hip. He staggered before regaining his balance and continuing after Marwat. The driver yelled angrily as he ran past.
    The collision had cost him several seconds. Khattak had disappeared into a building. Marwat went through its entrance.
    A woman cried out. His gun had been seen. He ignored the spreading alarm and ran to the entrance.
    A small lobby area floored in dirty red tile. He heard the rapid thud of footsteps from the narrow wooden staircase.
    They’ll set an ambush on the stairs …
    Adam’s own assessment of the situation was the same as Syed’s. But he had to make the ascent to stop Khattak from warning the rest of the terrorist cell. He ran up the stairs, gun at the ready.
    When would the attack come? Marwat would be waiting—but on which floor?
    The stairwell was confined, dark. He pounded up it, the umbrella’s handle scraping against the wall. Nobody on the first landing. He could still hear hurrying feet above as Khattak headed for the roof.
    He continued upward. Was Marwat waiting for him on the next landing, or the one after?
    This one—
    The Pakistani lunged into view, pointing his gun down the stairs—but Adam was prepared and had his own weapon raised. He fired just as Marwat saw the danger and jerked back. The bullet narrowly missed and hit a wall, scattering scabs of shattered plaster.
    He reached the landing. Marwat’s pistol came up—
    Adam swept his own gun arm across Marwat’s chest to knock the muzzle away as the terrorist pulled the trigger. The shot was painfully loud in the confined space. The American drove his shoulder against the other man’s sternum, slamming him back against the wall.
    With his right arm holding his opponent’s gun at bay, Adam couldn’t get a shot with the SIG. Instead he drove his left fist into Marwat’s stomach. Two punches,