The twins’ eyes widened in surprise as White plowed through them at full speed like an out-of-control truck. With his right elbow, he shoved one of the twins hard to the side, the man’s head meeting the brick wall behind him with a loud thud. The other twin, his initial surprise dissipated, lunged at White. He almost missed, but one of his hands caught White’s left ankle. White fell forward. He thrust his hands out, hoping to save his head from connecting too hard with the pavement, and rolled forward. Something sharp bit into his left palm.
Broken glass, he thought as he landed on his feet. At that moment, he heard the squeal of tires as a white panel van came to a stop at the end of the alleyway. When the side door rolled open and four solidly built men jumped out, White knew he was in trouble. He pulled out the cell phone Hammond had given him. He pressed the preloaded number. The four men stood in front of him twenty feet away, confident and serious, quietly staring at him.
“What is this about?” White asked the new arrivals, forcing a smile to his lips as his right hand slid into his pants pocket, dropping the phone inside.
The largest man, who must have been three or four inches taller than White, pulled out an extendable baton and snapped it all the way open with a flick of his forearm. The man was dressed in a pair of dark jeans, with a long-sleeve gray T-shirt that did nothing to hide the hard muscles beneath. If White had any lingering doubts before, he was now convinced his pursuers didn’t want him dead. Which didn’t mean they weren’t going to hurt him. His initial five pursuers had caught up and were right behind him. He had no way out.
“Roy Oxley wants to speak with you,” the man holding the baton said.
“Roy who?” White asked, his senses on alert.
The twin White had knocked over first made his move. The man dove at White’s back, trying to tackle him to the ground. White, having heard the man’s feet scrape against the pavement, sidestepped to his left and grabbed the twin’s extended left arm. Using the man’s momentum, White spun him hard in a semicircular motion that once again sent the twin’s head smack against the brick wall. This time he didn’t get up. The second twin, growling with anger, wrapped his arms around White and pushed him against the wall. White swung his head back as hard as he could and felt it connect with the man’s nose. The twin yelled in pain and let go, bringing his hands to his face to cup his shattered nose. White lost no time and gyrated to his right 180 degrees, striking the twin directly on the temple with his elbow. The man collapsed in a heap a few feet away from his brother.
The large man with the baton came at White, who stepped into the attack and caught the man’s wrist as it was descending. Had White stayed where he’d been an instant before, the telescopic baton would have snapped his right clavicle in half. White brought his left knee up into the man’s groin just as he heard the crack of a second telescoping baton firing out to its full length. The large man’s legs weakened, and White stripped him of his baton by twisting hard to the left and up as the man fell to his knees. White used his newly acquired two-foot-long blunt instrument to block the strike of the second attacker, who had swung his baton toward White’s opposite arm.
White kicked him in the chest, pushing the man away and creating enough distance to in turn deliver a strike with his baton. He missed the man’s wrist, instead landing a mighty blow to his hand. White followed immediately with an even more powerful second strike to the man’s leg. A loud snap echoed in the alleyway as the man fell to the ground, clutching his broken leg with his injured fingers.
The large man who’d fallen to his knees had already righted himself. He sprang at White from the pavement. White lurched forward and met him halfway, jabbing the butt of his baton into the man’s mouth, knocking out a few teeth in the process. The man fell to his side, howling in pain.
Before White could make another move, three of his initial pursuers all rushed him at the same time. White had just enough time to twist sideways when they rammed him. He fell onto his back, feeling the NSA cell phone slip from his pocket. White, pinned down by the combined weight of the three men, couldn’t move. One of them swung at his face and nailed White just above the left eye. Another drove his knee squarely into his groin. White let out a strangled gasp as the three men continued to pound him.
“Syop,” a frail voice said, just loud enough for White to hear. “Yoy wants him alive.”
White opened his eyes. It was the large man. His face was a mess. Blood poured from his mouth through the smashed lips and broken teeth. That was why his speech was so distorted. He didn’t look happy. With his left arm, the tall man wiped the blood from his chin and squatted next to White.