Rogue Angel - The Spirit Banner Part 12

With Davenport safe, Mason could concentrate fully on repelling the attack and securing the estate.

Katter and Davis had been a.s.signed to patrol the east side of the property and when Davis's panic b.u.t.ton went off, its GPS signal put him out in front of the house near the wall. An access road ran around the inside of the fence line, but time was of the essence now and the driver knew it. He cut directly across the front lawn, his tires tearing long furrows out of the gra.s.s. They'd worry about the landscaping later; right now they had to know just what they were dealing with.

Muzzle flashes could be seen along the wall and in the tree line just beyond, and Mason made note of their position, then relayed that information to those in the backseat. They would be in range in just another minute or two and he could feel his troops getting themselves ready, their desire to give back a little of what they were getting coming through in the set of their shoulders and the grim determination on their faces.

You picked the wrong team to screw with, Mason thought with a smile.

As they drew closer, their headlights picked up a dark shape on the gra.s.s and soon it resolved itself into a man's body. Mason pointed it out to the driver and snapped off a quick set of instructions. While he wouldn't go out of his way to check on his missing men, there was no sense in driving right by one of them if they could provide help without endangering their primary mission. The driver did as he was told, skewing the vehicle to a stop angled between the downed man in the gra.s.s and the line of fire coming from beyond the wall.

No sooner had the vehicle slammed to a stop than Mason was slipping out the door and rushing over to the unmoving man's side. Simultaneously, the men on the other side of the SUV opened the doors and crouched behind them, using them as cover as they returned fire at the enemy beyond the wall, giving Mason the time he needed to check on their companion.

Mason's men were all armed with HK MP-5 submachine guns, capable of spitting out 800 rounds of 10 mm ammunition per minute, and they hosed down the top of the wall and the trees behind it with deadly accuracy as Mason himself slid to a stop beside his wounded teammate.

The red hair told him right away that it was Katter. He reached for the man's neck and checked for a pulse. Thankfully he found one; strong and steady, too.

But when he went to remove his hand, it brushed up against something sticking out of Katter's neck.

Mason rolled the man over and let his head loll back, revealing the object sticking out of the side of Katter's throat, just below the ear.

Tranquilizer dart.

The sight of it froze him in place for a moment, his mind whirling with this new piece of data.

What on earth were they doing using a dart gun? he asked himself. And why switch from that to real firepower? It just didn't make sense.

Unless...

The gunfire was just a distraction. Something to keep he and his men occupied while the enemy went after something else.

Mason spun around, looking back at the house, and was just in time to see a group of figures running along the peak of the roof.

A moment later, the lithe figure of Annja Creed climbed out onto the roof after them and gave chase.

12.

The roof was relatively flat, which made movement easier, but the tiles were worn smooth from years of summer rainstorms, and more than a few popped free beneath Annja's feet as she took off after the intruders. The crack of the tiles as they split and slid down the roof alerted the others to her pursuit. Annja saw the last man in the group glance back in her direction, but he didn't stop moving forward and neither did she.

Gunfire split the night air. Annja could see Mason and his men working their way across the lawn toward the south wall, using two large SUVs from the motor pool as cover. Return fire was coming at them from the tree line but so far it looked pretty ineffectual. Annja didn't know if that was a product of the enemy's weapon skills or just a ruse to suck the team in closer where more damage could be doled out. She was momentarily glad she wasn't on the ground with them.

The intruders had reached the edge of the roof and were starting to make their descent by the time Annja reached the edge of the south wing. One of them looked back in her direction, saw that she had closed the distance between them and decided she'd come far enough.

He s.n.a.t.c.hed up his gun and fired.

Annja's danger sense had gone off the moment she saw his hips begin to move and so she dove to the left, rolling across the tiles, as bullets st.i.tched through air where she had been seconds before. By the time she scrambled back to her feet, two of the three intruders had already disappeared over the edge, headed for the ground below. As she watched, the last of the trio took hold of the rope and got into position for his own descent.

Annja knew she wouldn't reach them in time to prevent them from getting away.

The a.s.sault team leader must have realized it, too, for he gave her a jaunty smile and a wink before starting down the rope.

She put on a final burst of speed and then flung herself forward, her arms outstretched. As she struck the rooftop, her momentum carried her forward, her hand dipping over the edge as she sought to keep herself from hurtling over the side by dragging her feet behind her.

It worked. Just as her feet caught on the edge of one of the tiles behind her, stopping her slide, her hand b.u.mped into something down beneath the lip of the roof and she s.n.a.t.c.hed at it.

Gotcha!

She ended up with her head extended over the edge of the roof and, looking down, she saw that she'd caught the leader's wrist just as he'd been reaching for a new hold on the rope. His gun was slung over his shoulder and his other hand grasped the rope to keep from falling to the ground.

He was stuck.

Or so Annja thought.

As she struggled to pull him up toward her, however, he did something totally unexpected.

He let go of the rope.

Annja's arm nearly popped out of the socket from the sudden weight and she was forced to release her grip on the tiles beside her and grab his arm with both hands.

Now the only thing keeping them both from falling off the roof was the narrow lip of a tile under which she'd jammed the edge of one foot.

Grinning, her opponent dipped his free shoulder, causing his rifle to slide down into his hand.

Annja couldn't believe it. What was he going to do? Shoot her? If he did, he'd fall, which, when you thought about it, wasn't the smartest move. While the distance might not kill him, it would more than likely break both his legs and would certainly put a damper on his getaway attempt.

Apparently, he didn't see it like that. As she watched, he got a better grip on the b.u.t.t of the weapon, stuck his finger on the trigger and swung the muzzle up in her direction.

Whatever his intent might have been, he never got the chance to carry it through. The sudden motion shifted their weight a fraction to one side, not more than an inch, maybe two, but that was enough to cause Annja's foot to pop free from the tile under which it had been braced.

Over the edge they went.

Thankfully, the long drop she'd been expecting never came. She tumbled only ten feet or so before crashing onto the balcony jutting out below them. Her opponent lost his weapon in the fall, but managed to land on his feet. He didn't give her time to recover but rather moved in immediately and delivered a violent kick to her midsection.

It hurt, but the sudden pain also had the effect of helping to clear her head, so that when he wound up to deliver another blow, she was able to respond.

She blocked the second kick with both hands, catching his foot in the process, twisting it savagely to one side in an attempt to throw him off balance.

Rather than toppling to the ground as she'd expected, the a.s.sault leader turned in the direction of her throw, twisting his body in midair and coming back at her head with the side of his other foot.

Annja had no choice but to let go as she leaned back to avoid the strike. As they separated, she scrambled to her feet and was ready when he waded in a second time, fists and feet flying.

They exchanged a flurry of blows, neither of them managing to land anything damaging, until he overextended himself on a spinning side kick and she was able to drop beneath it and sweep his feet out from under him.

As he fell to the ground, she sprung back to her feet and closed in, intending to force him to tell her where the journal was headed, but then he did the unexpected-again. Rather than getting to his feet, he placed both his hands flat on the ground and shoved his body upward and out, slamming his feet into her chest and sending her stumbling backward.

As her arms pinwheeled with an attempt to regain her balance, the backs of her knees struck the low railing running around the edge of the balcony and her momentum kept the rest of her body in motion.

Over the balcony's edge she went.