Massive Attack (A Guy Niava Thriller Book 1) by Dana Arama (diy ebook reader TXT) 📕

watched him silently. The rifle behind me changed angles and now faced towards the floor. If I killed them now, I would lose my connection to Jonathan. If I don’t do it now, I would lose my life. The dilemma was a short one, because the tech guy deciphered the mechanism and turned to look at me. “Come and put your finger here,” he ordered. He took a step left and then the camera lens caught me in the frame. He immediately recognized me. I saw El Desconocido’s eyes open wide in shock, along with his mouth. That was my cue to start the action.

I took a quick step back and to the left, grabbed the gun from behind me and at the same time kicked the short guy who held the rifle. He doubled over and let go of the rifle. The guy who had been sitting quietly on the couch got up with a gun in his hand, and prepared himself to shoot. That made him my first target. The first burst of fire from the short-barreled Uzi hit him in his left side under the lungs and a bit above the heart. He was blown back by a rush of blood that sprayed all over the cracked wall and on the window behind him. The window was also hit with a few bullets, then shattered outward into the dirt and grass.

From inside the computer screen, El Desconocido’s voice rang out, “Take him down immediately!” He was screaming. Because his facial features were distorted and his yelling mouth open, the gap between the voice that was heard from the screen and the picture grew longer. It was almost comical.

I quickly pinned myself to the wall and threatened all the rest of the people present. It wouldn’t work if they all decided to move simultaneously. I could spray the room with bullets hoping to hit some of them, but not necessarily take them out. They froze momentarily, but the voice from the screen ordering them to kill me startled them back into action. The short guy started towards me together with the tech guy. I took a shot at the area between them and the short guy got kicked once again. This time he was ready for it. He pushed my leg and took a step back.

That was enough for me to aim my rifle at him. The tattooed guy yelled at the short guy, “Kill the son of a bitch!” From the corner of my eye I saw him get up from where he was sitting and point a black gun towards me. By instinct, I turned the barrel towards him and pulled the trigger. That was the last burst of fire, followed by the empty sound of metal clanging on itself with no bullet to pass through the barrel. There was no bullet stuck, just an empty bullet casing. I looked around and when I saw that there was no other cartridge in the vicinity, I threw the rifle aside. The short guy, clearly a skilled fighter, took advantage of the new situation to rush me with all his weight. This time, his short stature gave him an advantage of steadiness.

His skull hit me hard in the ribs and pushed me back, and I stumbled towards the kitchen. The edge of the wooden shelf hit me just behind my temple. If we’d been in a cartoon movie, birds would have been tweeting round my head, but this was no animated movie. The short guy continued his attack. He sent his elbow back, drawing energy from his broad shoulders to the tips of his fingers. He tightened his fingers into a fist like a lethal sledgehammer.

In other circumstances this punch could win a match, but these weren’t the right circumstances. I was taller than him by at least eight inches, and I had longer limbs. I managed to shove his punch away from a distance. I quickly bent my knees towards his chin, and my large hands wrapped themselves around his head and forced him downwards, towards my raised knee.

He’d made his first and last mistake. My hit was accurate. I heard a nauseating crack and then silence. His nose had been driven into his skull. He died immediately. El Desconocido’s face froze on the screen. When our gazes crossed, he pointed a finger across his neck as a threat to slaughter me and I knew that he wouldn’t rest until he’d hunted down the Israeli Mossad and me specifically. As if to confirm my fears, he said, “You have no idea how many resources I am going to use to hurt you and your country!”

In two long paces I reached the screen and, without answering him, I turned off the computer. I once again looked for a new cartridge for the rifle, this time with more care but I couldn’t find one. I decided to take the rifle with me just in case. My fingerprints were on it and, together with the dead bodies strewn all over, it didn’t look good. Quickly, I disconnected the computer from its charger and tucked it under my left arm. I grabbed the suitcase with the same hand. I put the empty rifle in my right hand. It might be helpful at some point. I opened the old door but remained inside. If there was another force of fighters outside, they might try to shoot me, but I was received with a blessed silence. Despite the silence I made my way towards the car at a quick sprint.

Once there, I got in immediately, started the car and drove away. Only when I’d made it to the main road did I put my hand to the source of my pain behind my temple. The blood on my fingers told me that I had escaped there with a lot of luck. I stopped at the first gas station I saw. The dizziness rushing through my body was a combination of lack of