Cody's Army by Jim Case Page A

by a battering ram, startling both men, who had not expected such an entrance.
    They whirled toward the doorway, Farouk bringing up the reassembled Uzi, holding his fire.
    Tahia and Hallah rushed in bearing Ali between them, one of Ali’s arms draped over each of them as they supported him into
     the room while Najib held the door open.
    Farouk’s heart leaped into his throat and he could not speak for a moment as he realized with shock that his brother was badly
     wounded and bleeding.
    “What’s this?” Abdel demanded. “What has gone wrong?”
    Farouk rushed toward his brother.
    Rallis told his driver to brake the unmarked police car to the curb across the street and three buildings away from where
     the van had disappeared into the alleyway at midblock.
    They had followed the van without detection all the way from the Acropolis.
    Or so it seemed.
    Giorgios, seated beside him, seemed to read his mind.
    “It could be a trap, Inspector. I’ve a feeling it may take more to fool these boys than tracking them from a distance without
     being spotted. They could be suckering us in.”
    Rallis nodded to the dash radio, not taking his eyes from the entrance of that alley.
    “Call in backup. I don’t want them jumping our net this time. This time we’ve got them, the Hassan brothers and Khaled and
     all the rest. Call the others in, and hurry.”
    Giorgios obeyed, breathily summoning assistance from the other unmarked cars that had more or less accompanied Rallis and
     Giorgios, assisting in tailing the van by picking up the track while Rallis and Giorgios had shifted over a few blocks parallel
     before resuming the track for his final distance.
    When the van began its approach to this seedy waterfront area district, Rallis had felt certain he was tracking these rats
     directly to their hole.
    He only wished he knew what it was that he was so hot on the trail of.
    The world’s most wanted terrorist gang, yes. But what were they up to?
    Whatever it was, he hoped it would end here, in the next few minutes when they closed in.
    Something told him time was already running out.
    Giorgios replaced the mike hookup to the dash radio.
    “They’ll be here in two minutes.”
    Rallis unholstered his pistol and unlatched his door.
    “We can’t wait that long.”
    Giorgios unleathered his pistol, but he looked uncertain.
    “We don’t know how many are in there, Inspector.”
    “And they’re dealing with a wounded man,” Rallis grunted. “They’ll be confused, upset. We’ve got surprise working for us.
     Come on. Something’s in the wind and it won’t wait.”
    Giorgios left the car with him. Together, the two of them darted across the inky shadows of the street.
    * * *
    Tahia did not know which hurt the most, watching Ali die right before her eyes or seeing the agony in Farouk’s expression
     as he helped her and Hallah carry Ali to the couch.
    Ali coughed again and more pink bubbles burst at the corners of his mouth.
    “A…trap,” he gasped unevenly to Farouk. “The police…waiting for us—”
    His voice tapered off and he doubled over into a fit of convulsive, death-rattle coughing.
    Farouk, perched on the arm of the couch with an arm around his brother, looked at the others in frustration and anger.
    “Trap?” he repeated. “Who would do such a thing?”
    Abdel remained standing back somewhat, with an air of cool, removed detachment as if observing the scene with only mild interest.
     Tahia, though, could see that his eyes were marble cold, reptilian, and calculating as ever.
    “Only the six of us knew of the rendevous with Christus,” he noted without inflection, gazing from face to face of those around
     the wounded man.
    “My brother is above suspicion,” snapped Farouk. “As am I, as are you, Abdel; as should we all be.”
    Ali forced himself to speak from the couch, a weakening gurgle. He gripped his brother’s arm.
    “Tahia,” he rasped to his brother. “She is…of us.”
    “And that is good