The Payback. Mike Lawson

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       Prologue

      DeMarco looked down at the dead man lying at his feet.

      He should have been the one lying there. He should never have made it this far.

      He picked up the man’s weapon. An Uzi, he thought, but he wasn’t sure. He’d never fired a machine gun in his life.

      Across the Potomac River he could see lights burning in the Pentagon. He was less than a mile from one of the most secure buildings in the world, a building filled with people who actually knew how to shoot the weapon he was now holding, but none of those people, as close as they were, would be of help to him or Emma now. This would all be over before anyone could help.

      He fumbled for the safety on the Uzi, flipped the mechanism, then looked to see if Emma was still in the same position.

      He could see her clearly in the lights of the marina parking lot. And he could see the Asian woman, the automatic in her hand, the gun pointed at Emma’s heart. The Asian was the most lethal person that DeMarco had ever known. If he didn’t do something in the next few minutes, Emma was going to die.

      DeMarco began running through trees. He had to get closer; there was no way he could kill the woman from where he was.

      And then the sound of a weapon firing, another machine gun. Who the hell had fired? Goddamnit, how many of them were there? How many were still alive?

      After that, it all happened so fast, too fast: a man running down one of the piers, the green and black camouflage paint streaked on his face making him look like something that had escaped from hell; the Asian woman spinning toward the man and firing; the camouflaged man falling; Emma leaping at the Asian woman and wrestling her to the ground.

      Emma was trying to get the gun away, but DeMarco could see that she was losing. The other woman was younger and stronger – and insane.

      DeMarco burst through the trees. Only fifty more yards. Just hold her, Emma, just hold her. Just hold her five more seconds.

      But then the camouflaged man rose up from the boards of the pier. Even beneath the face-paint DeMarco knew who he was – and he wasn’t surprised that the man hadn’t been killed. He wasn’t sure anything could kill this man.

      DeMarco raised the Uzi in his hands and swung it toward the camouflaged man but he knew immediately that he was moving too slowly. He knew the man would beat him.

      He knew the Asian woman would beat Emma.

      And he was right.