Twenty-Nine Cozy Bears

31

Tehran, Iran

More than two hours passed before his phone rang. He checked the display and found it was Sara calling.

"Hello?"

"I got hungry," she said, and in her voice he could hear an embarrassed smile. "So I'm out to get some food. The chicken kebabs here are amazing. The lamb equally so. The beef isn't bad. The roasted corn is divine. This master chef has a garlic butter which is likely horribly fattening and a sin as well. But I would order three if you are hungry. Do you want anything? Are you still at the library?"

The earlier pang of hunger he had noticed before was now complaining audibly. "Maybe I should. I only had breakfast. If you don't mind, two orders of the lamb kebabs, and two ears of roasted corn. A shawarma too if you see any worth having. And yes, I'm still here at the library working on NATili's update."

"I will be there in fifteen minutes then," she said, her voice happy as if she had won a bet.

Twenty minutes later the man experienced the same air pressure event, which he could feel in his ears this time. Along with the window glass rattle, there was a slight sucking feeling inside his ears. He decided that it must be the front door that caused this, and was idly wondering why the same effect didn't happen during the day — when it happened again.

The hairs on his arms, and on the back of his neck, bristled with a shiver. Someone or a group of someones followed Sara into the building. The second suction even came too long after the first for them to be accompanying Sara. She might not be aware of the danger behind her.

"NATili? How many people are in the building?" he asked.

"Seven. You, Captain Jamshidi, who is currently near the top of the stairs, and five others near the front door."

"Are those five others carrying any weapons?"

"Tactical weaponry, and gear yes." NATili replied.

Shit, he thought to himself. Then he heard a commanding female voice shout outside the doors followed by three bursts of gun fire. What Sara shouted, he didn't know, but he understood with ludicrous clarity what she meant.

The double doors burst open. Sara tumbled through the space, coming up on one knee with a Glock 19 9mm in her hands. She fired twice and then tumbled to her left to lay prone.

The doors swung closed on their own while the intruders returned fire. Short bursts of auto fire chased after Sara, blowing holes in the thick solid core doors. The gun fire from the intruders had the distinct sound made by 5.56×45mm NATO rounds, and it didn't take much imagination to picture IWI Tavors bullpub combat weapons in the hands of the five invaders.

What he didn't hear, which was deafening in its absence, were shouts to surrender or to throw down their weapons. Which meant they weren't interested in surrender or identifying themselves. Which meant they were here for him, and meant to end him.

Grabbing his old, out of date, thick, heavy laptop, he ripped the 9mm from the back again, breaking the plastic casing with his urgency, while saying, "NATili, no drill. Furious Angel. Not a drill." From the laptop case he also pulled out two black cylinders, about the size and shape of a roll of large coins.

The man checked his weapon and his mind raced to formulate some kind of plan of attack. There were two exits. Through the double doors or down the back stairway to the emergency exit. He turned to leave the office, and the lights went out as if the building lost power.