The Alex King Series, A BATEMAN [good books for high schoolers .TXT] 📗

Vigus Badenhorst grunted and was trying to get himself out of the rear foot-well, where he had been thrown during the impact. He looked at Caroline, his expression one of resignation. “I’m hit…” he said. “I’ve been shot!”

Caroline ignored him, worked on getting hold of Kruger’s pistol. She almost had it clear of the holster, but the gunfire resonated again, and the vehicle was peppered by bullets. Vigus yelped, then groaned. Caroline struggled with the pistol. It was a plastic holster with a thumb press locking the pistol securely in place. A safety feature making the wearer of the rig about the only person who could get the pistol out. She had not come across a holster like this before, but her military days were far behind her, and she didn’t officially carry a weapon for her duties with MI5. She risked a glance and saw that Vigus was bleeding from his left shoulder. As she watched, a crimson dot appeared directly opposite the wound and he flinched again. The crimson swelled, resembled a flower, blooming in front of her eyes. She caught his eye, there was a knowledge behind his stare. The man had organised hunts all his adult life. He knew enough about gunshot wounds to know he was in trouble. The flower was now the size of a cabbage. His breathing rasped. Most of his torso was now red. Either a shard of bone or part of the bullet had clipped the aorta.

Kruger could feel his injury now and had started to moan, gradually becoming louder and more desperate. He muttered something, but Caroline missed it as Badenhorst leaned forward and spoke into her ear. Caroline caught most of what he said over Kruger’s moans, but there was an intense sound, an all-encompassing thud and whoosh and she knew before she saw it, that the fuel had ignited. The heat was intense, like opening an oven door and bending prematurely, getting caught in the steam. Her only thought was in getting out of the vehicle. She spun around, tried to get some purchase and to her horror, realised she was standing on Kruger. He gasped, but to her shame, she knew she had only seconds to get clear. Kruger was trapped. Badenhorst was bleeding out. She had a chance, but it was slim. The gunmen made it all but impossible.

Fuel had engulfed the underside of the vehicle and the interior was heating up at an astonishing rate. Badenhorst had a glazed look, but even still, he tried to move forwards away from the heat.

Caroline eyed the assault rifle. It was wedged between her seat and the centre console. She could see out of the windscreen. There was a man reloading a pistol. He was changing over the magazine, shouting something to someone, but she could not see who, nor hear what he was shouting. She heard a burst of rapid fire and the underside of the vehicle popped and pinged. Badenhorst moaned and she could tell he had been hit again.

“The bastard is going to step over the rear door and finish us off,” Kruger said through gritted teeth. He sucked in air, swallowed and stared at Caroline. It was all he could do to breathe, let alone talk. “Get the rifle and be ready to fire. You’ve got about five seconds. Make it count.”

Caroline stared at Kruger, then snapped to. She stepped up onto the edge of Kruger’s seat and caught hold of the assault rifle. She charged the cocking lever and chambered a round, but remembered what Kruger had told her about the weapon when a live 5.56mm round spun out of the breach and dropped into Kruger’s face. She studied the frame, looked for the safety and selective fire switch. She had used the SA80 weapon system in her army days, and remembered Alex once telling her that assault rifles were all pretty much all the same.

Load, cock, select, aim, fire.

Alex, she thought. What would he do?

She heard a scrape of metal. A slight movement of the vehicle. The muzzle of a large pistol edged over the broken rear window. Caroline answered her own question and fired half a dozen rounds approximately a foot lower. They tore cleanly through the door, letting in shafts of light. She could hear a man grunt and she followed it up with another six.

“Get out now!” Kruger yelled. “Over your door! I’ll keep this prick busy! Go!” He opened fire through the windscreen, punching holes in the already shattered glass. He had a 9mm Glock with seventeen rounds and he fired single, carefully aimed shots through the glass using his left hand. But his hand was shaking badly.

Caroline fired three bullets through the window above her head, then jabbed at the spider-webbed glass with the muzzle. The window gave and showered her with thousands of pieces of glass, each the size of half-carat diamonds. She pushed her way out, thankful for the fresh air and relief from the fumes, but the heat from the fire was intense. She prayed the fumes inside the vehicle would not ignite, now that she had dramatically increased air flow into the car. She knew that petrol fumes were more volatile than diesel, but had no idea what the Toyota had been running on. The rear and underside of the vehicle were in flames and the heat from the fire was so all-consuming that she forgot about the gunmen as she slid over the window frame and fell onto the tarmac. She rolled clear, the rifle clattering and scraping on the road surface. She took a deep breath, knew she had to keep going.

Kruger was still firing and had wounded the man in front of the Land Cruiser. He was limping away towards the pickup truck, aiming his pistol back at the burning vehicle and firing double-taps at the windscreen. Caroline shouldered the rifle and fired twice. Centre mass. The man