Read JET - Ops Files for Free Online Page A

proceedings. She was AWOL each day she left the checkpoint, even though she later returned. Kevod would use it to ruin her, and she had no doubt he would press to see her imprisoned for a long time. The list of rules she was breaking was too long to consider – not only was she leaving the base grounds without permission, but she was doing so armed and in disguise, subjecting herself to unconscionable danger, and risking an inflammatory incident in an already charged environment.
    And if she knew Kevod, any information she reported would be ridiculed and dismissed. It wouldn’t matter that she’d warned her superior once the bomb went off and there were bodies everywhere. The damage would have been done, the carnage complete, and even if it bought her leniency after the fact, her efforts would have been in vain. Perhaps worst of all, Sarah’s killers would have gotten away with their murder, only to kill again.
    Preoccupied, she didn’t notice the three young men loitering at a far corner until she was right on top of them. Usually she would have taken a detour if she spotted anything that looked dangerous, but tonight her senses had failed her, and she knew she was in trouble when one of them detached himself from the graffiti-covered wall he was leaning against and barred her way with crossed arms and an oily gloat.
    “Well, what do we have here? A streetwalker?” the tough sneered.
    Maya struggled to maintain her composure as she clutched her pistol under her robe.
    “I’m on my way home. Please. I don’t want trouble,” she said.
    “Walking alone at night in this area says something different,” he countered, studying her face. “You’re a pretty one, aren’t you? Are you lonely? Is that why you’re out and about?”
    One of his companions joined him. “She’s young, too. Probably sneaking out to see her lover. Isn’t that right?”
    “Please. I just want to go.”
    The two moved like junkyard dogs, coming in hard and fast, hoping to knock the wind out of her before she could scream for help. She automatically swung a roundhouse kick at the first punk’s head, as she’d learned in her basic training Krav Maga instruction, and felt the toe of her combat boot connect with his jaw with a satisfying thud. Startled, his partner tried to tackle her, only to have the butt of her pistol slam against his temple, dropping him like a sack of rocks. The first thug tried to recover and continued his charge, and then froze when he found himself staring down the barrel of her gun, her hand steady. The third youth was still by the wall, and she called out to him when she saw him reaching beneath his shirt.
    “Don’t. Put your hands up, or I’ll blow your buddy’s head off and use you for target practice. I mean it. There won’t be any second warning. Hands up, or you’ll be wearing his brains all over your face,” she warned, her voice sounding more confident than she felt.
    The youth did as instructed, and Maya took a step forward. With her free hand, she chopped the punk’s neck where she knew a pressure point lay. She must have missed, because he grabbed her arm with nearly enough force to fracture it just as she drove her pistol barrel into his nose, breaking it with a sickening crack. His grip on her relaxed as the youth by the wall went for his weapon again. She kneed the injured attacker in the crotch with all her might, dropping him hard as she brought her gun back to bear on the one by the wall, hesitant to shoot him for fear of the attention a gunshot would bring.
    “I thought I told you to keep your hands up.” She eyed the two youths on the ground, the one with the head wound out cold, the other in a fetal position, mewling like a kitten. “Do you want to be a hero? Hands up. Now.”
    The boy did as she ordered, and she approached him, her gun held in front of her in a two-handed grip.
    She pointed at his midsection with her pistol. “All right. Using your left hand, reach down, slowly, and