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If that kind of stuff even existed these days.
Because with more spy-work happening through electronic means rather than physical channels, the CIA had probably been downsizing those sorts of personnel. Nowadays those sorts of field missions might be controlled by CIA operatives but were mostly staffed with U.S. Special Forces men.
SEALs and Delta guys, who were apparently the best killers and provocateurs in the business.
Before the thought was finished the metal door to Indy’s left swung open, letting in a draft of warm Mumbai air, thick with traffic fumes, heavy with smoke from street-vendor cooking fires.
Indy turned, expecting to see Moses coming back in, hopefully with the female informant they were supposed to meet out here.
Except nobody stepped through the door.
Nothing entered but the heavy air.
Indy blinked twice as a chill snaked down her back, rippling through the stiff muscles of her butt and legs. She’d heard the sound of a vehicle pulling up not long ago, but the safe-house windows were blacked out and besides, Moses had instructed her to stay hidden for now unless there were sounds of trouble outside—which, Moses had stressed, was highly unlikely.
Didn’t feel so unlikely now, Indy thought as she reached for her weapon with cold trembling hands. She was a very good shot at the target range but had never drawn her weapon on the job, certainly never fired it at another human.
“Moses?” she said, drawing her gun slowly out of the leather holster. The Glock felt heavy in her hands, almost as heavy as the dread in her chest. They weren’t wearing bulletproof vests—Moses had made it clear this wasn’t that sort of field work, this wasn’t Afghanistan, no Taliban or Al Qaeda within a thousand miles.
So why was he sweating, she’d wondered on the air-conditioned drive over. She’d noticed the thin veneer of perspiration on Moses’ forehead, noted that the veteran CIA asset seemed uneasy in a way that made no sense for a guy who’d probably seen it all and done it all a thousand times over.
Unless this was something different, Indy thought now as she aimed her gun at the empty rectangle of Mumbai twilight beyond the open door.
She began to inch towards the threshold.
And then something exploded out of the empty space beyond the door.
Indy just about caught a glimpse of a tall muscled man in black clothes and dark glasses surging into the safe-house like a force of nature. He was as silent as he was swift, getting to her with such speed that Indy couldn’t bring her gun all the way up to take aim before he grabbed her wrist and swung her body around so he was behind her.
Indy shouted and pulled the trigger but she was hopelessly out of position. The man’s forearm went around her throat from behind as the bullet slammed dead into the concrete wall with a dullthud.
Then pain shot up through Indy’s arm as the man twisted her wrist while tightening his grip on her throat.
She dropped the gun, then tried to break out of the choke hold. She’d been trained to do it, but this guy had clearly been trained to counter her training.
She tried to stomp on his feet but he sidestepped her with the grace of a dancer.
She elbowed him backwards in the abdomen but it was like hitting a wall of muscle.
She swung her free arm down backwards viciously to get him in the balls, but he turned his body and rammed the side of his hip into her ass, driving her forward directly into the concrete wall, his arm still around her throat, his muscled weight slamming her into the wall with enough of an impact to knock the breath out of her, almost knock the damn life out of her.
Indy suddenly knew she was defeated. He was immensely strong, completely overwhelming. Her cheek was flat against the rough concrete wall. The man pressed against her from behind, his sharp hipbone digging into her ass, his weight holding her so tight against the wall she was completely powerless, absolutely owned, totally dominated.
He’d been silent as death all this while, but now he spoke.
His voice was cold like steel, an expressionless monotone that sent ripples of fear down Indy’s back.
“This is a chokehold but I am not choking you,” he said in that deadly tone. “That will change very quickly if you fuck with me again.”
Indy tried to turn her head to look at him but couldn’t. She nodded stiffly against the wall, the rough concrete wreaking havoc on her skin like a very harsh exfoliant.
“I need to hear you say it, O’Donnell,” he growled.
“Say what?” Why did he know her name, she wondered. “That I surrender? Submit? Give up?”
Had he just killed Moses, she wondered as her heart hammered inside her chest, her blood throbbed in her head. She had no idea what the hell was going on, but Indy had been trained to control her panic with breathing and she did it now.
Immediately her mind cleared up, and Indy was back in control.