While he tended the wound, Strayhorn shouted, “What are you doing?”

“Providing a distraction.” Franks had stowed some old decommissioned MCB armor. He wouldn’t have time to fully suit up, but he threw the load-bearing vest over his coat and buckled it. He’d need the pouches full of ammo and explosives. “Get him out of here.”

Strayhorn hoisted his father up. Myers was barely conscious. He did not look good. Time was of the essence.

Beneath the armor was a Milkor Mark 14 repeating 40mm grenade launcher. Franks had lost it on a mission years before. The MCB penny pinchers hated how that kept happening to him . . . Franks picked it up. The gigantic, explosive revolver felt right in his hand. Shadows were chased up the walls by approaching headlights. Vehicles were tearing into the old shipyard. Good. Franks was suddenly in the mood for a fight.

“Once they’re occupied, get to your car.” Franks didn’t wait to see if Strayhorn had listened. He had to strike fast. His pursuers would be expecting him to try to escape again. They probably wouldn’t be expecting an aggressive, immediate response. Franks ran as fast as he could, leaping over rotting debris and ducking through crumbling doorways to cut through old buildings. Spider webs stuck to his face. He reached the nearest parking area just as several SUVs crashed through the chain link fence in a cloud of dust. More vehicles were following them. Armored men were standing on the running boards, and they jumped off as soon as the SUVs slowed. They hit the ground running, weapons shouldered, spreading out and looking for targets.

Franks stopped behind a steel pylon of an old water tower. He picked one of the vehicles and aimed. They were far enough away that he’d have to lob the low velocity shells in, but Franks had plenty of practice.

Bloop.

The 40mm grenade hit the hood and detonated in a flash. The men who’d been riding on the sides were ripped by frag. Franks shifted to another truck and fired again, then the next, and the next, before the first grenade had even hit. Franks cranked through six shots as fast as possible. The open area was filled with a sudden chain of explosions and flying shrapnel. Some of the SUVs were up-armored, and 40mm wasn’t enough to pierce them, but it sucked to be the poor bastards out in the open. One shell exploded against the grill of a speeding Suburban. It would have been fine if the driver hadn’t panicked and cranked the wheel too hard. It went up on two wheels, caught a pothole, and flipped over, sliding along on its roof.