The Project 02 - The Lance

stuttering of the suppressor. Ronnie fired twice, the twelve gauge loud as thunder inside the house. The double ought buckshot lifted the shooter off his feet and threw him backward.
    Nick got to his feet and reached the living room. Another burst from a MAC-10 chopped the kitchen cabinets into bits. China and glass shattered behind him. Ronnie fired and a shape behind the sofa collapsed. Someone stood and Selena shot him. He went down firing, the bullets stitching a pattern into the ceiling and blowing out the chandelier. In the next room a man reached around the doorway and fired. Selena fired a short burst and he crumpled.
    A man in uniform ran for the front door. Nick let off three rounds into his back. He slammed face first into the door and slid to the floor, arms spread wide, leaving broad smears of blood behind on the smooth, white enameled surface.
    Loud silence.
    The rooms filled with the smell of cordite, blood and the stink of emptying bowels.
    " I count seven," Ronnie said. "That's all of them." He racked the slide on the shotgun, ejected an empty casing. It bounced with a hollow clatter onto the wooden floor.
    They checked the bodies. Dysart lay by the door, his green uniform dark with blood. That was the good news. The bad news was that he wasn't going to answer any questions.
    Selena stood frozen in the kitchen, her rifle still held close to her cheek. Nick walked over and laid his hand on her shoulder.
    "You're all right."
    Something changed in her eyes. She lowered her weapon.
    Harker and Stephanie came into the room. Harker looked at the carnage and shook her head.
    " I'd better call the President," she said. "He needs a new spymaster."

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

    They moved the bodies into the garage. Harker called Rice. They sat around the table in the ruins of the kitchen.
    "I've got to set your nose," said Ronnie. "This is going to hurt, Director."
    "Go for it."
    He placed both hands on the side of her nose and moved the cartilage back into place with a quick movement. She gasped. Tears came to her eyes. Ronnie taped it in place.
    Nick called Lamont and filled him in. Stephanie made coffee and threw brandy in it. The team sat for a few minutes with the cups, thinking their own thoughts. Harker broke the silence.
    "I didn't think Dysart could find us. I was wrong. Whoever's behind this just upped the ante. The question is why? Why would Dysart himself come after us like that?"
    "We know too much," Nick said. "They can't know what it is that we know, but it doesn't seem to matter. We know why they tried to stop us in Jerusalem. They wanted to blow up the Mosque and kill Rice."
    "And keep us from finding out what Arslanian knew. About Himmler's plan." Harker took a deep breath through her mouth. "That must be why they're still after us. There must be more to it than the bombing."
    Nick sipped the brandy and coffee. "Himmler's plan was to try and take over the US. There are plenty of would-be Nazis around. It's hard to believe they could be powerful enough to pull it off."
    "They have first rate intelligence. How did they know we were in Argentina? Maybe Dysart figured it out, but I don't see how." Ronnie yawned and stretched.
    Harker looked at her watch. "Let's get some sleep. I can't think straight anymore. Set the alarms, but I don't think we're going to get any more visitors tonight."
    They went to their rooms.
    The adrenaline had worn off and Nick was bone tired. Selena came out of the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bed. Things were good between them again. She looked at him, shuddered.
    "Jesus, Nick."
    He put his arm around her. "Yeah."
    "I don't know if I can keep doing this. The team, I mean. I thought I knew what I was getting into. When we were tied up in the cellar, I thought they were going to kill us."
    "They were. But they didn't. That's what counts."
    "But what about next time?"
    "You can't think about that. If you start thinking like that you'll lose your confidence."
    She looked into his eyes.
    "We're so different, you and I," she said.
    "How so?"
    "You always seem so, I don't know…detached. It's like you turn on a switch and after that everything is action until the shooting stops. You don't seem to worry about it. It's instinct with you. With me, I have to think about it. Don't you think about it, at all?"
    "Not much when things are happening. After, I do. It's probably because of my training. To know what I'm supposed to do."
    "I think it's more than that. I do things I'm