The Fellowship Read Online Free

Zhu?”
    “Think about it. His employees are convinced he’s been kidnapped. If we could find him, we could bring him back to the U.S. for his own safety. And in the process, of course, have a chat or two about the work he’s been doing.” 
    “ I was trying to tell you,” Roth said, “That’s not possible now. The phone, as far as we can tell, traveled very quickly three kilometers away. Zhu either went underground, or into something like an elevator or parking facility, or he pulled the battery out. The GPS just stopped chirping.” 
    “So we’re completely blind,” Carver snapped.
    “Yes.”
    “Where the hell was Callahan?”
    It wasn’t that the field operative was at fault, Carver knew. He wasn’t even supposed to tail him – the malware in his phone was supposed to keep tabs on him. It was just that Carver wished it had been him there in Rome. He was jealous. This remote operations consulting stuff wasn’t him. He had been born to be out in the wild, not cooped up here, thousands of miles from the action.
     

 
    Hotel Parking Garage
    Rome
     
    During his 15-year career in private security, Lars had purchased virtually every type of made-to-order armored vehicle imaginable. They had all been good. Mercedes Benz especially, which had created a protective car for Japan’s Emperor Hirohito way back in 1930.
    But nearly as soon as he had left private practice to follow the Shepherd, he had sensed that the Great Mission would require something special. The Range Rover he drove now had been custom-ordered from a private company in Johannesburg, where the city’s troubled past had given the company plenty of real-world experience. The glass and door paneling had been built to his exact specifications, rated to stop up to four successive 7.62 NATO armor-piercing bullets within a three-inch radius. The tires were airless run-flats, with reinforced steel that would withstand just about anything except a bomb.
    Fortunately, they didn’t face such heavy firepower tonight. Lars recognized the typewriter-on-steroids rattle of MP5 submachine gun fire. It sounded like the assailants’ weapons were set to fire in three-round bursts, which they were squeezing off about as fast as they could. They were using 9mm rounds, he thought, instead of the .40 Smith & Wesson rounds preferred by the Americans and Canadians. With those guns, the Range Rover could easily take several dozen 9mm rounds into the vehicle’s glass and doors without any ballistic leakage.
    He just couldn’t let them reload.
    “I can’t die yet!” Zhu shouted.
    Wolf had reminded Lars of that very fact just hours ago. Zhu was destined to survive. It was in the Living Scriptures. And when he has gathered all that is necessary to know to bring all that is dark into the light, the One from the East will use her to make me anew, just as I have made you anew.
    The way Lars saw it, they had three choices. The first was to try out-driving their attackers. So long as the run-flat tires held, they might have a chance, although the Mini would be faster and more agile in traffic. The second option was to fight back. Lars had a Glock ACP in his ankle holster and, under the seat, a TEK-9 machine pistol, which fired .45 caliber rounds and had been converted to fully automatic. The third option was to use the vehicle as a weapon. It was, after all, built like a tank.
    He reached into the floorboard and grasped Zhu by the collar, pulling him up into the seat. “ Buckle up.” He put the vehicle in reverse and backed up slowly. He wanted to stay within range of the assailant’s guns.  He wanted them to stay where they were. “Brace for impact.”
    Now sightless, Zhu trembled as the vehicle took rounds to the right front fender, and then to the grill and windshield. He heard the sound of the brass shell casings bouncing on the cement around the Mini Cooper. The disturbing clamor of the windshield crystalizing into thousands of tiny cracks. The noise of an empty