Covert One 4 - The Altman Code Read Online Free PDF Page A

grinding through the undergrowth.
    Simultaneously, they saw the shadows of the inland group pushing toward

them and the sea. Their pursuers had guessed what they would do and were

closing in from front and back. Smith swore. “They’ve heard us, or found

our trail. Keep moving. When the ones from the road get close, I’ll rush

them.”
    “Maybe not,” Mondragon whispered back, hope in his voice.
    “There’s a rock formation over there to the left that looks like good

cover. We can hide in there until they pass. If not, we might be able to

hold out until someone hears the shooting and shows up.”
    “It’s worth a try,” Smith agreed. The rock formation rose out of the

brush in the moonlight like an ancient ruin in the jungles of Cambodia

or the Yucatan. Composed of odd-shaped coral groupings, it made a crude

kind of fort, with cover on all sides and openings to fire through, if

that was what they had to do in the end. It also contained a depression

in the center, where they could sink low, nearly out of sight. With

relief, they hunkered in the basin, their weapons ready, as they

listened to the sounds of the island in the silvery moonlight. Smith’s

scratches and small puncture wounds stung with sweat. Mondragon eased

his leg around, trying to find a position that was less painful. Their

tension was electric as they waited, watching, listening … Kaohsiung’s

lights glowed against the sky. Somewhere a dog barked, and another took

it up.
    A car passed on the distant road. Out on the sea, the noise of the motor

of a late-returning boat growled. Then they heard voices, again

murmuring in the Shanghai dialect. The voices came closer. Closer. Feet

crackled against the tough brush. Shadows passed, broken up by the

brush. Someone stopped. Mondragon raised his Glock . Smith grabbed his

wrist to stop him. Me shook his head–don’t. The shadow was a large man.
    He had removed his hood, and his face was colorless, almost bleached

looking, under a shock of oddly pale red hair. His eyes reflected like

mirrors as they searched the coral formation for any shape or movement.

Smith and Mondragon held their breaths in the depression inside the

rocks.
    For a long moment, the man continued his slow surveillance.
    Smith felt the sweat trickling down his back and chest.
    The man turned and moved away toward the road.
    “Whewwww,” Mondragon let out a soft breath. “That was–”
    The night exploded around them. Bullets slammed into coral and whined

away into the trees. Rock chips showered down in a violent hail. The

entire dark seemed to be firing at them, muzzle flashes coming from all

sides. The large, redheaded man had seen them but had made no move until

he had alerted the others.
    Smith and Mondragon returned fire, searching frantically among the

moonlit shadows of the brush and trees for a visible enemy. Their cover

had now become a disadvantage. There were only two of them. Not enough

in the darkness to beat off at least seven, possibly more. Their

ammunition would soon run low.
    Smith leaned close to Mondragon’s ear. “We’ll have to make a break for

it. Head for the road. My motorcycle’s not far away. It can carry both

of us.”
    “There’s less fire coming from the front. Let’s pin them down and break

that way. Don’t worry about me. I can do it!”
    Smith nodded. He would have said the same thing. Right now, with

adrenaline pumping through them like lava, either of them could run from

here to the moon, if they had to.
    On a count of three, they opened fire and rushed out of the rocks toward

the road, running low while still moving fast, dodging brush and trees.
    Moments later, they were through the circle of attackers. At last the

gunfire was from behind, and the road was close ahead.
    Mondragon gave a grunt, stumbled, and went down, ripping through the

tangled vegetation as he fell. Smith instantly grabbed his arm to help

him up, but the agent did not respond. The