Lady Death, Brian Drake [howl and other poems .TXT] 📗

time on earth was nearing its end.

Raven flicked off the safety on the M4 Commando as he examined the Jeep parked in front of the house.

No lights in the driveway. The front of the Jeep faced the road. If there were motion lights, they’d catch him before he reached the vehicle. If alarms were attached to the motion lights, the kill team would respond before he had a chance to disable the car.

Easy problem to fix. He grinned.

Three minutes till the bomb detonated.

All he had to do was wait.

Former officers of Iran’s Quds Force made up the kill team. The Quds Force was one of five branches of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps. Quds were responsible for military intelligence gathering and special ops, and their officers were well-trained, but some felt unappreciated. Colonel Farzim Radan was one such officer who decided to earn more money as a terrorist-for-hire.

Radan had taken four of his fellow officers with him, adding his girlfriend Pari Mehrnia to the mix as well.

And the team had kept busy.

In recent weeks, they’d assassinated two off-duty US sailors in Madrid and set off several bombs throughout Israel. US intelligence had dubbed them the “Radan Unit” and put them at the top of the presidential kill list.

Western intelligence was racing to eliminate the unit and end their killing spree. Raven lucked out. He found them first. He had sources who wouldn’t talk to the CIA or Mossad, the proverbial friends in low places.

Now he was at their back door.

And he had no intention of letting them escape.

A door opened and closed. Raven scanned the area. His pulse quickened. Had he tripped a censor in the grass? He tried to pick out movement in his peripheral vision but saw no one. Nothing indicated a response team heading his way. Whoever exited the house remained in shadow too.

Terrific.

Two minutes.

Raven tucked the M4 Commando to his shoulder. He fired once. The Jeep’s rear tire popped loudly. He fired a second round. Another tire gone.

Flicking the Colt’s selector switch to full-auto, Raven broke through the grass. His boots crunched on dirt. The hair on the back of his neck prickled.

Raven dropped and rolled forward. A loud burst of automatic fire crackled, zipping overhead and smacking into the dirt. Raven rolled onto his side, lifting the suppressed M4 and returning fire in two quick bursts of his own. The gunner, bathed in the outer light, stood in the open. He sprinted for the trees on the side of the house. Raven fired another burst and missed again.

Raven scrambled to his feet and ran to the Jeep. No motion lights snapped on. He grabbed a grenade from his vest and dropped it at the garage door. Taking cover at the front of the Jeep, he waited for the explosion. The grenade detonated and sent pieces of wood flying. Raven plucked another grenade from his belt and tossed it into the garage. The blast filled the empty space and blew open the door into the house.

Another blast shook the ground and lit the night sky with a bright orange flash. Bye-bye yacht. Raven grinned as he slapped a fresh magazine into the M4.

He left the Jeep. A gunman met him mid step. Another gunner filled the garage doorway. They both zeroed their weapons on Raven’s face.

The past few days had been full of activity for Colonel Farzim Radan and his team. They’d taken refuge at the Hoorn house thinking a few days rest would serve them well before resuming work.

Radan shifted on the bed to let Pari Mehrnia sit up and slide off the bed. Naked, she went to the dresser for her cigarettes and lit one. Radan lay on the bed and admired her trim body in the glowing night light near the door.

“I don’t like being here,” she said. Cigarette dangling from her lips, she climbed onto the bed and sat against the headboard. She blew a stream of smoke at the ceiling.

Radan remained on his back. He put his hands behind his head.

“Another day won’t hurt.”

“They’re going to find us.”

“You worry too much.”

“You don’t worry enough. One of us has to keep this group alive.” She took another drag.

Somebody knocked urgently on the door.

Radan and Pari exchanged quick looks. She pulled the sheet over her as Radan rolled off the bed and pulled on a pair of shorts. He opened the door. “What?”

Heydar Abbasi, former captain in the Quds Force, stood in the hall. He held his Krinkov automatic carbine at the ready. “Somebody’s coming.”

“Which direction?”

“The grass.”

“Send somebody to look.”

Abbasi nodded and ran down the hall.

Radan flipped on the light. He ignored Pari’s “I told you so” look. “Get dressed.”

She took a last drag on the cigarette, stubbed it out on the nightstand ash tray, and left the bed. Radan was already pulling on his pants.

Gunfire outside. Radan and Pari exchanged urgent looks and dressed faster.

A loud explosion rattled the window. Radan parted the curtains and cursed.

“What is it?” Pari said.

“The yacht blew up.”

“Here!”

Radan turned, bringing up his hands, catching the AKM Pari tossed him. He yanked back the bolt handle to chamber a round. Now all he needed was a target.

Raven’s trigger finger twitched before conscious thought commanded him to fire.

The M4 Commando spat a nearly-silent burst. The first gunman pitched back. He screamed as the 5.56mm slugs ripped through his chest and neck. Raven completed his right-to-left sweep, firing into the garage. He let a full-auto burst go, blasting the doorway gunner from belly to chest. The gunner dropped in the entryway. Raven changed mags on the run, grabbing a third grenade and pitching it through the door. He dodged to the side, back against the wall, as the deadly thump-and-boom filled the house.

Raven ran into the house, stepping over the dead body before him, the M4 Commando tight to his shoulder. A burst smashed into the wall beside him. He dropped, leaning around the corner, and fired back. A gunner hiding behind a couch decorated the