Before they could stop him, he darted out toward the opposite corner of the warehouse.
Sam grabbed Zoe’s arm, stopping her from following. As he held her back, Remi glanced at the truck—left so temptingly on its own.
That was when she noticed the red light flashing beneath the pallet.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Sam saw the flashing light beneath the pallet at about the same time as Remi. It occurred to him that the guards had a twofold purpose in their placement of the truck. The headlights facing down the road ensured that Dimitris couldn’t escape without being seen. Leaving an unattended running truck—with the door open—just about guaranteed that Dimitris would try to use it to escape.
It was a trap set for a single person. And had Dimitris been there on his own, it might have worked.
Then again, it might still work, if Sam wasn’t able to stop him.
“Sam,” Remi said. “Do something.”
The IED could be in any one of those boxes, but it was the detonator that was the key. “Which detonator was missing when we walked in?”
“What?”
“There were four types in his photo. But only three when we walked in. One of those is now wired to that pallet.”
He glanced at Dimitris, edging from the corner of the warehouse toward the flatbed—a good twenty yards away. “Dimitris!” he called out. “Stop!”
His warning had the exact opposite effect. The young man ran faster, his attention solely on the truck.
Hoping that he was guessing correctly, Sam aimed his gun at the blinking light beneath the pallet—which left a lot of room for error at this distance.
“Blue lettering!” Remi said. “The one that’s missing from the photo.”
At the last second, he shot out the tire. The sidewall burst, the weight of the cab shifting onto the rim. The blast of intense heat from the near simultaneous explosion hit Sam in the face as the pallet and all its contents launched upward and out in a flash of light. Dimitris was hurled back, slamming to the ground as flaming debris pelted down around him and on top of the truck.
Zoe screamed, burying her head in Remi’s shoulder, while Remi stared in horror. “Is he—?”
Sam tossed his backpack at Remi’s feet. “Wait here.”
He ran out, dropping to the ground next to Dimitris, relieved to see him conscious, though somewhat stunned. “What happened?” Dimitris asked.
“They set you up. The load was rigged.” He reached down with one hand, helping Dimitris to his feet. “Let’s get out of here.”
They heard a loud click as two halogen lamps on posts flooded the area with light. Sam pulled Dimitris back to the office building, then around the corner as the bunker door opened. One of the guards stepped out, aiming a mini Uzi. “Get back,” Sam shouted to Remi.
The gun roared. A deafening rat-a-tat echoed between the buildings. A volley of shots hit the corner of the building and the gravel in front of them. The gunman ducked behind the flatbed. Sam gripped his Smith & Wesson, aimed at the blinding lights, and shot both in quick succession. Sparks rained down, then faded into the dark. A second burst of gunfire peppered the ground several feet to Sam’s left. He edged out, fired at the muzzle flash, heard a grunt, then the clatter of the Uzi as it fell to the ground.
One down.
Sam motioned for Dimitris to move to the trees where Remi and Zoe were hiding. He followed, walking backward, his weapon aimed at the bunker where the two remaining guards were holed up. So far, neither had emerged. Sam had a feeling that they were waiting for him to make the first move.
With only two bullets left, and a good quarter mile to the boat dock, he wasn’t about to take the chance. They still needed to get across to the ruins and thicker trees. With the truck headlights—although now somewhat askew—glaring down the road, they’d never make it past without drawing fire.
Sam looked over at Dimitris, who was holding Zoe in his arms, the young woman sobbing quietly. Unfortunately, the young man’s misguided attempt to save them had actually set them back. Not only did Kyril’s men now know Dimitris wasn’t alone, they knew exactly where they were positioned.
Time was running out. “I’ll stay here and hold them off while the three of you cross over. Get to the dock. I’ll be right behind you.”
Remi put her hand on his shoulder. “Sam . . . ?”
He reached up with his left hand, grasped her fingers. As intelligent as she was, there was no doubt she realized the position they were in. All he could do at this point was hope to hold them off long enough so that the three of them could—hopefully—make it to the ruins. As he let go, about to tell them to get ready, his foot hit his backpack. Ironic, he thought. Here he was with a block of C-4, a detonator, and a remote, but no batteries to set it off.
But he did have a rope.