NIGHT DROP( A Eric the Red thriller: Book 1)

Chapter 17: It's the oldest question who can spy on the spies

Oslo,Norway

Trond raced through congested traffic down the street on his way to the United States Embassy. His only chance and hope of staying alive was Holiday. He glanced sideways into his rearview mirror to see if any of the wet job team was following. As far as he could see, there was no other vehicle behind him. But he knew Atticus wouldn't stop until he was put to the ground. He had followed the orders when they wanted Davenport dead, although he missed his target, who was Red, and now they were scrubbing all because he had the dam disc he kept.There were enough secrets to go around, he thought to himself. From his peripheral, he spotted the two marines out the gate of the embassy. He floored the gas pedal, speeding right into the gate as the marine quickly grabbed and pulled it open.

He roared to a stop in front of the embassy as the marines sprinted down, aiming their weapons at him. He immediately stepped out and said, "I want to see Holiday right now. My life depends on it."

The marines lowered their rifles and led through the front of the embassy, up the elegant corridor. His eyes darted back and forth as they scanned the corridor for anything suspicious. He wasn't safe yet. He was sure that Emlin was on her way with the wet-job team. After a while, they entered the interrogation room. He looked around the room. He didn't like this one at all. People like Colt Huntley had power and could always have someone inside, just somewhere. A couple seconds later, the door opened as a field agent stepped in, followed by the marine. Then the agent gestured for him to have a seat at the table.

"I'm agent Tracy Hannah, Mr. Gunner. You want to tell me why you want to see Holiday for?" she asked in a skeptical tone.

"I don't know if I can trust you, Agent Hannah," he snapped.

"You can trust me, Gunner. I worked with Holiday for a long time," she told him in a convincing tone.

He couldn't put his finger on yet, but there was something about the agent. Red had never mentioned that Holiday had another agent working for him. His eyes narrowed on the hip holster that holstered her Glock 23. One thing is for sure, he thought to himself: she was an assassin hired by Headshot, which meant she was a sleeper agent planted inside the CIA and took her orders from Atticus. He couldn't take the chance of trusting this agent.

"I thought all agents carry Sig Saucers, not Glocks," Trond inquired.

Agent Hannah didn't bother to answer his question, giving him the once-over. Her left-free hand reached for her silenced tip Glock in her hip holster as her eyes narrowed on him as she shouted. "Give me the disc now, or I'll put a bullet into you myself before our wet job gets here!

"That's not going to happen," Trond snapped as he jolted upright from where he was sitting. His eyes darted over to the gun in her hand, and he immediately stepped aside as the bullet hit the pavement, missing its target. His knowledge of the organization was indeed very helpful; he knew that they had assassins everywhere. He latched onto her wrist,twisting it violently until the bones snapped. Agent Hannah cried in agony.

"I want to know how many shooters are coming from the wet-job team," Trond inquired in a demanding tone.

"I don't know; they never tell me that information," she remarked in a painful tone.

"You're either working for Callan or Atticus?" Trond asked as he pressed on. "Which means that you're a singleton asset. I find it hard to believe they would send a low-level agent to obtain me before the wet-job team showed up."

He snatched up the pistol as he dashed out of the interrogation room, this time trying to figure out what to do. A loud screech of tires roared to a halt outside the embassy. The doors on the Land Rover swung open as the crew of assassins stepped out, clutching their Steyr in their grip. They spread out as they moved methodically as they scanned the open area. Their orders were clear: Gunner must not get out alive. They had missed him at the safe house, but this time they wouldn't.

Trond raced down the winding staircase, heading for the entrance. His eyes narrowed on the Land Rover parked outside the front entrance and the crew of assassins moving in one direction. Towards him, he had to think fast now. Just maybe the agent had the Holiday number on her burner. If she did, he used to get hold of him. The team of assassins opened fire when they saw in front of the window as the glass shattered, sending shards of glass everywhere.

His training had prepared him for this, and he pivoted as he dashed up the staircase. His mind frantically tried to come up with an exit strategy. He had gone over his options; the best one he could think of was Red and Holiday. From his peripheral, he spotted the room and the burner in the pocket. He entered, got down on his knees, and yanked out the phone. Next, he placed the phone under the agent's finger to access it. He scrolled through the contacts until he came to Holiday, although he wondered why she had his number.

He entered Holiday on the screen as he lifted the phone to his ear before he spoke. Holiday reached into his pocket, pulled out his burner and clicked on accept.

"Holiday,where the hell are you? I'm at the embassy; the wet job just arrived," Trond inquired in a panicked tone.

"Relax, Gunner Red, is on the way there now," Holiday told him.

"Good cause I just killed an agent who told me she works for, but I found out she was a singleton agent for the HeadShot," Trond remarked.

"Who's the agent?" Holiday inquired, trying to figure out who would have known about Red meeting Gunner at the embassy.

"Tracy Hannah," he told Holiday.

"I never heard of her," Holiday stated.

The lead assassin dashed over to the front entrance doors, pushed them open with his free hand, and headed in as his eyes scanned the corridor, looking for the target. He proceeded up the corridor as he made his way up the staircase, leading the way with the barrel of his MP5, as people screamed and panicked, trying to get out of the way. The rest of the wet-job team followed behind him methodically and discreetly. They had studied the layout of the embassy before they came.

A shuffling of footsteps grew closer, crashing through the rampant thudding of his heart. He ended the conversation on the agent's phone and dropped it to the ground. Somehow, he would have to hold them off until Red got it here. He had to make it count; at least he could send some bullets into one of the assassins. The lead assassin motioned to his crew as they pivoted and opened fire at Gunner.

Trond sprinted over to the chair as he dove behind it to take cover.  He pulled the trigger and fired a bullet into the lead assassin's head, dropping to the ground. Gunfire erupted all around him. It was now or never, he told him as he jolted to his feet and fired back at them.