Free Troubleshooters (Jackson Chase Novella Book 2) by Connor Black Page A

enough for me to see his face was covered in beads of sweat.
    I had landed on my side, and had to bring the SIG across my body to have a shot. The guard saw me reach for my weapon and, not having the time to pivot his AK around, swung the stock hard towards my face. Craning my neck, I made sure it missed my face by a fraction of an inch. But it did make contact with the SIG and knocked it cleanly from my hand.
    His follow through left him turned slightly. I swept a leg across the back of his knees and he went down. I cocked my left elbow and drove it like a jackhammer into the side of his face. There was a terrible crunching noise on the concrete floor, and he immediately went still.
    As I collected my weapon, an engine started in the workshop. I rose to see a silver van crash straight through one of the closed garage doors and turn right towards town. It happened with such speed, violence, and noise that I could not tell who was driving, but I guessed it was Naseeb.
    I needed to stop that van, and raced for the door I had just blown through. As I approached, the doorframe was peppered with bullets, one passing so close to my ear that I could feel the heat of the round. There was obviously another guard that had come around the opposite side of the building.
    I quickly drew back. He was expecting me to come through the door standing and was likely aiming at chest level, so I dropped to my stomach. I peered around the bottom of the doorframe, my head and weapon low. Just as I adjusted my sight picture and sent a round downrange, he let off a quick burst of fire. I ducked back into cover, knowing my shot had gone wide.
    His gun went quiet, and I took another look around the doorframe, this time higher up. He was reloading, and having some trouble inserting the magazine. I took careful aim and fired, taking him in the shoulder and immediately rushing down to kick the AK out of his reach. I pushed him to his stomach, ramming my knee into the base of his spine. As I pressed his head into the dirt with one hand and checked for weapons with the other, he shouted venomous curses in Swahili. I noticed that his jeans had white pockets sewn into the back. It was one of the men who had planted the bomb.
    Behind me, vehicles skidded to a halt under the portico. I turned to see two police cars, with a third just behind. An officer came out of one, weapon drawn and pointed in my direction. He shouted something in Swahili. And by tone alone, I knew he wasn’t asking if I’d like a coffee.
    “Stop pointing that thing at me and cuff this guy. We still have to clear the building!” I shouted.
    He stood frozen for a second, before responding, “OK, good!”
    Sterba jogged towards us, and I met him at the destroyed door.
    “Any sign of Dilbert?” he asked, hoping as I did that she wasn’t in the van that had blasted out. By now, several crucial minutes had passed. On the edge of town as we were, it would have taken only a few minutes for the van to disappear into the mass of people, traffic, and buildings. The time delay from that last attacker had ruined our chances of pursuit.
    I shook my head, and we went through the building at a rapid pace, clearing the garage and open space behind the building. There was no sign of Chen. But still we moved with haste, sprinting back into the garage where Kahembe and some of his men were gathered in a corner of the large space. Having cleared that side of the garage, I knew exactly what they were looking at: a nice and tidy row of a half-dozen artillery shells. The exact type we suspected had been used in the bombing of the hotel.
    “It appears that Miss Chen found the bomber’s camp,” said Kahembe.
    “She did, Lieutenant,” I replied. “She also found the bomber. It was Naseeb, and he just tore out of here with her in a dala dala.”
    His face turned ashen, and he immediately barked an order to one of his men.
    “Wait one, Lieutenant,” I said. Turning to Sterba, I indicated that he should