Dazzle The Complete Unabridged Trilogy (177 page)

The brandy was a new bottle. She tore at the wrapping
around the neck and cursed as she broke a fingernail in the process. She ripped the pillowcase in shreds, twisted a length of it into a respectable wick, and poured enough brandy on it
to soak it thoroughly. She sniffed. It smelled fruity and potent.
Then she looked at the bottle and shrugged. Why not? She
lifted it to her lips and took a swig for good measure. It went
down like liquid velvet and radiated through her like a warm
cloud.

She stuffed the soaked rag into the neck of the bottle.
Clutching her homemade bomb in her left hand and the lighter
in her right, she raced back out to the foyer.

Now let them come get me.

She didn't have long to wait.

'Schnell!
Unlock it!' a shrill, guttural German voice scream
ing from the other side of the door.

Just her luck. It
would
be the German bitch.

'Well, here's to you, Monika,' Daliah said fiercely to her
self. As she heard the rattle of keys, she flattened herself
against the wall so that she would be hidden behind the door
when it opened, lit the tip of the rag, and averted her face
as it flared gloriously into a crackling flame. 'Cheers,' she
whispered soundlessly.

Slowly the door slid open toward her. Then her heart sank.
Why were they hesitating? Why didn't they come in?

Hurry! Dammit, hurry before this thing blows up in my face!

'Up!' Najib screamed in at the helicopter pilot. 'To the roof!' He was standing on the left landing skid and hanging on to
the outside of the cabin while Dani was hanging on to the
other side. Their heads were ducked against the noisy
whack-
whack-whack
of the overhead rotor, and the whirlwind it
stirred up tore at their faces. 'Up!' Najib screamed again.

'If you say so.' The imperturbable pilot calmly took off,
nosing the bird upward at a sharp angle, and the ground fell
away below them. Najib glanced down. Beneath his feet, all
hell had broken loose, and Abdullah's men were racing around
in confusion. He grinned to himself. Usually it was they who
called the shots; now, suddenly caught in a defensive position,
they were not prepared for being on the receiving end of
things. They were getting a taste of their own medicine.
Good.

Dani looked up. Overhead, the old flares in the sky were
dying out and falling, and another white one shot up into
the sky, bursting into radiance and bathing the compound in
dazzling, starkly surreal light. Then, lowering his gaze, he
could see the men atop the compound walls racing around; as he watched, a rocket from a shoulder-held launcher burst into
the wall, exploding a giant hole. As though in slow motion,
chunks of concrete and screaming men went cartwheeling
through the air.

The helicopter rose above the palace roof, swooped down,
and hovered, scattering a cluster of terrorists. Najib and Dani
both let off a burst from their hip-held automatics. Two men
pitched off the roof, two more were mowed down screaming,
and the remaining three fled for the roof door and dis
appeared.

Crouching, Najib jumped off the skid, rolled over twice,
and keeping his head ducked against the whirring rotors, leapt
neatly to his feet. Still in a crouch, he raced toward the roof
door. On the other side Dani did the same and dived into position alongside him, waving back to the pilot to take off.

Najib looked at Dani and pointed to the roof door; the
clatter of rotors was too loud for speech. Dani nodded, and
together they dashed to the door and flattened themselves to
either side of it.

'Cover me!' Najib shouted. He reached sideways gingerly for the door handle and then flung the door open to a bright
rectangle of light. Dani leapt forward and let fly a burst of
bullets; then, as he jumped back, Najib dashed inside and
took the stairs down three at a time, Dani was right behind
him.

They were inside the palace. So it was not impregnable after
all.

When they reached the landing, a spray of bullets shot up from below and chipped bits of marble off the walls around
them.

Dani propelled himself forward in a dancing spiral,
loosened another burst, and danced back again. He heard a
scream, and the firing stopped.

He glanced at Najib. 'Where to now?'

Najib gestured downward with his thumb. 'This is the third
level. Unless they've moved her, Daliah's still down on the
second.' He tensed and listened. Bursts of gunfire were com
ing from somewhere below. He exchanged glances with Dani.
On impulse, he unstrapped his helmet and tossed it aside. 'I can't hear well enough with it,' he said. 'And it cuts down
on my peripheral vision.' Then, as Dani took his off also,
Najib raced down to the second-floor landing. Behind him,
Dani grinned to himself. He was glad Najib al-Ameer was on
his side. He'd hate to have him for an enemy.

Daliah shrank back against the wall as the German girl and Surour burst into the foyer and headed straight into the living
room. She waited a few seconds before sliding quietly out
from behind the door. She tiptoed soundlessly after them.
The flames of the Molotov cocktail blazed like a giant leaping
torch, and the heat was so intense that she had to lean away
from it.

It was then that Monika heard the crackling of the fire
behind her and whirled around, her face contorting in rage.
'Nein!'
she yelled, and flung up her arms to shield her face as
Daliah flung the Molotov cocktail at her feet.

It exploded with a roar and Monika screamed as a sheet of flame engulfed her and shot up to the ceiling. Daliah caught a
glimpse of the German's clothes starting to burn, but she
didn't wait around to see what would happen. She lunged for
the door, slipping on the small prayer rug in the marble-
floored foyer and, arms windmilling, skated on it past the
imposing open Nevelson doors and out into the hall. Pausing
only fractionally to glance both ways, she could already hear
Monika's screams turning into shrill curses, and then the clat
ter of weapons were close behind.

That could only mean one thing. Surour and Monika had
been stopped only momentarily. They were coming after her.

Without thinking, Daliah turned right and, clenching her
fists like a sprinter, raced down the sculpture-lined hall. Shots
cracked like thunder close behind her, and bullets
boinged
as
they ricocheted off a giant owlish Maillot.

Daliah ducked low and zigzagged wildly to avoid the spray
of bullets, her heart pounding as though it would burst.

She lunged sideways, down another bisecting corridor.

Without direction, she ran for her life.

Najib burst through the open doors of the suite in which
Daliah had been kept prisoner, Dani at his heels. They both
began to cough violently. There was a smouldering fire in the
suite, and the air was thick with pea-soup smoke.

'Daliah!' Najib called out. 'Daliah!'

There was no answer. He exchanged glances with Dani.
Was she gone? Or was she somewhere in that blinding fog,
passed out? . . . Dead? There was only one way to find out.
'Follow me,' he rasped grimly to Dani. 'I
'
ll take the bath
rooms. You look in the bedroom. Then we'll both check the
living room.'

After four minutes of choking and coughing, they ran back
out into the hall, their lungs raw, their eyes streaming.

They took little comfort in the fact that she was gone.

'What now?' Dani panted.

'You take that side,' Najib gasped, pointing to the right.
'I'll go left.'

They were closing in for the kill.

Daliah took no heed of the detonations erupting in various
parts of the palace. It was all she could do to stay one hallway
turnoff ahead of Monika and Surour. She couldn't be sure, but she had the terrible suspicion that she was running in circles. It was too late now to wish she'd asked Najib for a
lesson in the palace layout. All the sculptures looked the same,
and she could have sworn she'd run past them before.

And then she suddenly knew she wasn't running around in
circles after all. The hallway she was skidding down came to a windowless dead end. Two sets of closed double doors, one
on either side, loomed tall. She chose the one on the left and
struggled with it.
Locked.
In desperation she tried the one on
the right.
Locked.
The thud of heavy boots sounded very
close. As she turned slowly around, the breath caught in her
throat. Monika and Surour were rushing toward her.

She was neatly trapped.

Scorched bright red, eyebrows and crew cut completely
singed off, Monika's face was a hideous feral mask. With slow
deliberation she tossed her automatic rifle aside. Then, sig
nalling Surour to stay put, she walked slowly toward Daliah,
clapping her hands as though she thoroughly enjoyed what
was coming.

Daliah stood still as a wary statue.

And then fancy footwork and blurring arms turned Monika
into a killing virago.

Chapter 25

Schmarya hurried around in a swift running limp, his auto
matic shooting arcing bursts of scintillating tracers.

His eyes were everywhere at once, scanning the battlefield.
He wasn't sure if he was imagining it or not, but it sounded as
if the return fire was already starting to lessen. He kept his
eyes peeled for the Israeli captain in charge of the mission.