Damn it, Linda. Why’d you ask me to do this?
Decision made, he clenched his teeth, activated the laser, and pulled the trigger for LG.
Not ideal, but he’d be able to sleep tonight.
Because Harv wouldn’t arrive for at least another five to eight minutes, he needed to get Linda out of here and find a defensible position.
“My dogs . . . they okay?”
“I heard them barking. Where are they?”
“Closet.”
“In your bedroom?”
She nodded. “Collars . . . leashes . . . in the drawer there.” She tried to point, but her arm didn’t make it up.
“I’ll come back for them later.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
“They’ll like your dogs.”
“No doubt.”
He stashed her pistol in his waist pack and scooped her off the floor.
“Hey, big boy,” she mumbled. “Watch those hands.”
CHAPTER 5
Nathan almost laughed at LG’s comment. Still feisty, even after the Special K cocktail. Glen must’ve had his hands full. They had to be opposites or they would’ve killed each other. He shook his head: being married to LG would be like having a pet cobra.
At the broken glass door of the library, Nathan paused to clear his immediate threat zones.
No movement.
A glance toward the pool area confirmed the man he’d dropped hadn’t moved. No surprises there. With Linda’s limp form slung over his shoulder, he hustled across the lawn, the beads of her braids ticking as he ran. He reached the citrus trees and laid her down on the wet grass. Despite the weather, it wasn’t overly cold. She’d be okay until Harv arrived.
“How many did you take down in the house?”
She offered a dreamy smile. “Fifty.”
“You’ve been a busy . . . woman.” He almost said girl, not woman. She’d made it clear on more than one occasion she didn’t like being called a girl.
“You’re a good man, McBride.”
He grunted to acknowledge her, considering what to do next.
“I won’t remember this . . .”
“Don’t talk, okay?”
He considered holing up in the small pool house. It was such an obvious place to hide, he figured any remaining intruders wouldn’t look there. He nixed that thought, preferring multiple options for relocating if needed.
If the police were on the way, he didn’t hear any sirens. He held perfectly still for a good sixty seconds, listening and watching. Except for some sporadic fireworks, the neighborhood remained quiet.
“McBride?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“I’m really glad it’s you.” Her voice had a dreamy, sensual tone.
“Why’s that?”
“I’m going to be unconscious soon . . . and you were always such a gentleman . . . I shouldn’t have given you a bad time . . . about opening doors for me . . . or getting my chair.”
Her brain hadn’t registered his request for no talking. “You can blame my mother.”
She tried to poke his chest playfully. “Well, she raised you right.”
“Stay quiet, okay? I need to text Director Cantrell.”
“You can do that?”
He crouched low, shielded the glow from his phone, and dictated a text. The phone translated it perfectly and he didn’t bother to fix the capital C.
echo five is sierra Charlie, make contact ASAP!
He pressed Send and knew it would get her immediate attention. Sierra charlie represented the letters SC: code for situation critical. The last time he’d seen this, he’d been on the receiving end.
“McBride?”
He scanned the area with his NV again. All quiet. “Yeah?”
“Do you like me?”
“Of course I like you.” Knowing her filters were down, he steered the conversation in a more germane direction. “I’m really sorry about your husband. Don’t talk, okay? I’m going to clear the area. I’ll be right back.”
“Please. Don’t go.” She tried to grab his arm. “Stay.”
“Sure, Linda, no problem.”
“I’m feeling kinda good now. Are we . . . going to your house?”
He put a finger to her lips and issued a soft shhh sound.
His phone vibrated with a text from Cantrell.
one minute okay?
Sure, no problem, Rebecca. I’ll just hang out right here guarding our former Latin American station chief from a small army of contract killers. Actually, that wasn’t fair. He couldn’t expect Cantrell to drop everything, debts or no debts. Besides, the IOUs went in both directions. She’d pulled some major strings over the years, keeping Harv and him out of trouble. Trouble? More like jail.
He texted back an okay.
He didn’t know how many other retired operations officers were in Rebecca’s speed-dial list, didn’t really care. His access had been purchased with unspeakable pain and anguish. Besides, he never abused the privilege. Rebecca knew if he ever initiated contact like this, it meant a life-and-death situation.
And the reverse was true. If Rebecca ever needed them, Harv and he would drop everything and respond. No questions asked. And no money would exchange hands. She’d once told him, “You’re never retired,” and she’d meant it.
Even though Rebecca sat in the director’s chair, she’d never lost touch with her roots as an operations officer, something he appreciated. Her rise through the CIA’s ranks had been nothing short of phenomenal—a result of hard work and dedication, not of calling in political favors and brown-nosing. She sat in the director’s chair because she’d earned it. Figuratively speaking, her fingernails had been—and still were—dirty.
He looked down at LG. She’s really quite striking. He liked the Caribbean look, a lot, actually. He’d never seen the softer side of her. Even drunk, LG maintained a bulletproof veneer. In all the years he’d worked with her, she’d never let anyone in. He recalled being shocked at her wedding announcement. LG getting married? In what world?
His phone vibrated. Cantrell. He glanced at his watch: 12:10 a.m.
“I’m still sierra charlie,” he said, keeping his voice low.
“Can you talk?”
“Yes, but I don’t know for how long.” He didn’t need to say his end of the line wasn’t secure.
“Give me your situation.”
“I’m at Echo One’s house. She’s been assaulted by a squad of Special Forces types, at least ten in strength. Nationality unknown, but I heard Spanish. They’re wearing unfamiliar digital camo and black face paint. They’re also well armed and armored.”
LG started to say something, but he gently covered her mouth. She didn’t resist.
“Echo One’s condition?”
“Alive but losing consciousness. They injected her with Ketamine before I arrived. How long will she be out of it?”
Cantrell paused. “Depending on the dose, around half an hour. She should be fully recovered in two hours, give or take. Does she have any injuries needing emergency care?”
“Not that I can see. Her nose looks broken and she might have some cracked ribs, but other than that, she seems okay. It’s clear she went hand to hand at the end. Her husband’s dead; it looks like he was involved in the scrum. It’s clear they wanted her alive; the intruders brought TASERs. She’d already dropped half a dozen or more, and I got another one, but there could be holdouts lurking. Probably are. Echo Four’s ETA is a few minutes. One more thing: There’s an unconscious man in her kitchen.”
“How unconscious?”
“I don’t know. It looked like Echo One clocked him pretty hard. I didn’t see evidence of any serious wounds. She wanted a more . . . permanent outcome for him. I didn’t do it.”
Cantrell didn’t respond right away. “Smart move.”
He knew what she was thinking; they now had a prisoner to interrogate, though neither of them would say it on an open cell line.
Her voice
held resolve. “We need that man positively secured.”
“I’d like to wait until Echo Four arrives to do that.”
“Now, Echo Five.”
Nathan took a deep breath. Cantrell was ordering him to reenter LG’s house and make certain the guy couldn’t escape. Not a thrilling assignment. He had an idea that held less risk. It also minimized his time inside the house. “You’ve got my exact locale?”
“Hang on a sec . . . You’re on the west side of her property in a row of small trees. Concur?”
Nathan smiled. Digital technology never ceased to amaze him. She’d zeroed in on his cell phone. “Yeah, that’s me. They’re orange trees. I’ll leave our guest secured under the skirt of the tree I’m next to. You’re seeing that, right?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll tie him to the trunk and make sure he can’t make any noise. Good enough?”
“That will work. You said they stuck Echo One with Ketamine?”
He knew what Cantrell wanted him to do. “The syringe is on the kitchen floor. I’ll grab it and look for the vial.”
“Is there any other activity in the area?”
“No. All quiet. They used flash bangs and timed their attack at midnight. Neighbors probably wrote off the sound as fireworks. Can you find out if SDPD’s been dispatched?”
“Yes. I need to get some assets in motion. Stay on the line and hold your current position. It might be a minute or two.”
“No problem.” His phone went completely silent. What did he expect? Elevator music? He thought back to his initial missed shot and vowed to brush up on his combat shooting. There’d been a time when he wouldn’t have missed. No need to tell Harv about it.
He was relieved Cantrell hadn’t asked him to document the scene. That would’ve meant wiping off the intruders’ face paint, taking photos, and texting them to her for the CIA’s facial-recognition program. He’d also have to shoot tattoos, scars, or anything else that might ID them, including pictures of their uniforms and boots—cleat patterns and all. He knew the drill; he’d performed it many times.
LG’s eyes opened. “Nathan, was that Cantrell?”
So it’s Nathan now? “Yeah, Linda.”
“How’s she doing?”
“She’s doing great.”
“About Caracas . . . I never thanked you . . . You got shot.”
“No need to thank me, it just kinda happened.” That wasn’t exactly true, but he didn’t want to relive the memory right now.
Clinging to consciousness, she smiled again and touched a scar on his face. “I’m sorry about . . . Montez. What he did to you.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Linda. It happened, it’s over.”
“I never told you . . . how I felt about it.”
Her hand dropped into his lap, and he moved it aside. It wasn’t intentional; her brain was shutting down. Nathan knew her plight well—the twilight of pending unconsciousness. He was no stranger to surgery. Most people didn’t mind the anesthetic buzz. Not him. It brought back wretched memories. Montez had given him all kinds of drugs. Heroine. LSD. Crack. Quaaludes. And yes, Special K. You name it, he’d gotten it. There’d been times when he didn’t know what was real . . . even the torture. The grisly proof came later. Maybe Hell wasn’t a physical place. Maybe it was an ethereal morass of twisted reality designed to tear a human mind to shreds. If so, Nathan was glad he’d never found out. He didn’t blame LG for being captured in Nicaragua, never had. Yes, she’d been in command of the Echo missions, but unforeseen things happened. Not every contingency could be predicted.
He wanted to reconnoiter the area, but that meant leaving LG alone, something he wouldn’t do until he went back inside for the unconscious intruder. More gunmen could be converging to this location.
He tested LG with a nudge and got no response. Gone. After circling to the opposite side of the tree, he took a knee in a defensive position from which he could see LG and the expanse of lawn extending to the house. If anyone approached from that direction, he’d see them. What he wouldn’t give for a thermal imager right now.
That’s two slip-ups tonight. He’d forgotten his TI and missed a shot.
There was no denying it: Being a CIA operations officer wasn’t the same as riding a bike. True, you never forgot the basic skills, but others needed constant practice—like situational awareness. Fortunately, that particular skill wasn’t rusty or he wouldn’t have noticed movement to his right.
Advancing cautiously, another gunman wearing NVGs eased along the wall of Linda’s home.
Good thing the guy didn’t have a thermal imager, because he and LG would’ve been bright objects—impossible to miss.
An insecure shiver tightened his skin. Cantrell’s call was still active!
If she came back on . . .
Although his phone was set to vibrate and minimum brightness, a good pair of NVGs would still detect its glow, even through the fabric of his waist pack. The best mitigation he had was flipping it over, so the screen faced inward. Turning it off would take too much time.
Strike three. He was now at risk from his damned cell phone.
What’s next?
He forced the thought aside and studied his new opponent. The gunman’s movements were measured and sharp. Whoever these guys were, they weren’t rank amateurs. Dressed and armed exactly like his fallen comrades, this guy was definitely one of the intruders.
Clearly, this gunman planned to enter LG’s house; he was headed toward the library’s door.
He estimated the distance at slightly more than thirty yards. Not ideal for night pistol work, but well within his effective range.
In ten more steps, the gunman would be at the door. Since Nathan still needed to reenter LG’s house to secure the prisoner, he couldn’t allow this man to go inside.
He made the decision. This was an enemy combatant who wasn’t unconscious on the floor. If he didn’t take this guy out right now, he’d regret it later. He had to think about LG’s safety. And Harv’s. Not to mention his own.
Using two hands to keep the branch from shuddering, he carefully picked an orange and hurled it behind the gunman.
It skipped off the grass and smacked the house.
The gunman spun and froze.
Perfect.
He used the tritium sights on his Sig to line up on the man’s torso but held off activating the laser. He didn’t want to paint his target until the last possible second. Lighting the guy up too soon would give his position away, especially to an opponent with NVGs. The gunman’s ultrasensitive device would see his Sig’s laser beam suspended in the light rain, providing a precise vector to his position. Once Nathan activated the laser, he’d have less than two seconds to send a bullet.
He steadied his elbow on a knee and pressed the laser’s button.
In the image of his night-vision scope, a bright green dot formed on the man’s chest.
Rather than react instantly by dropping to the ground or ducking for cover, the gunman looked down at himself.
Bad move.
Nathan adjusted his aim above the man’s body armor and stopped at the gunman’s neck to avoid hitting the NVGs or helmet.
By the time his opponent realized what was happening, it was too late.
Nathan squeezed the trigger.
The image brightened for an instant. Even suppressed, the Sig’s discharge lit the area like a camera flash.
He reacquired the target, but a second bullet wasn’t needed. The man was down, unmoving. Thankfully, Cantrell hadn’t come back on his cell.
The instinct to relocate tugged at him, but he fought it off. He needed to stay close to LG. Given this was still an active site, carrying or dragging her to a new location wasn’t a viable option.
He was about to check on her when his radio earpiece came to life with Harv’s voice.
In perfect Russian, Harv said, “I’m twenty seconds from the hairpin.”
Nathan responded in kind. “How fast did you come down the Fiv
e?”
“One-forty. I pissed off quite a few drivers.”
He knew his friend would speed, but 140 miles per hour? “Keep going and park a few houses short of Linda’s driveway to the east. We’ve still got an active site. I’m on the west side of her property, where I just dropped an intruder. Linda’s been drugged, but she’s okay. Her husband’s KIA. There’s a north–south row of citrus trees along the west wall. We’re behind the second one on the north end. I’m staying put. Come in from the east and use your TI. These guys are hard to see with NV.”
“Then we’re already in a shoot-to-kill situation?”
“Yes. I’m on hold with our friend on the Potomac so I may have to cut this short. Proceed slowly. I’m secure for now. Check in as you progress through Linda’s yard. I doubt they have a perimeter sniper or I’d be dead. Our bad guys look like SOFs. They’re wearing digital camo with backpacks, waist packs, face paint, the works. They’re also using NVGs, but I don’t think they’ve got thermals.”
“How are they armed?”
“Suppressed MP5s, probably set to three-round bursts.”
“Copy. I’ll check in once I’m approaching LG’s property on foot. If there are any dogs around, they’ll blow my stealth.”
“I think we’re in spoiled-dog territory. I doubt any of them sleep outside, especially in the rain.”
“Yours sure don’t.”
“Point taken. Nobody barked at me as I came up the canyon. I think you’ll be okay.”
“On the satellite photos, I saw a security wall along the front of her property. I’ll have to find a good place to scale it.”
Nathan didn’t like that idea. He’d rather have Harv climb over the wall where he could watch his friend’s back. “Harv, I’m changing the plan. Leave your headlights on and cruise past her place. Park two hundred yards west of her driveway and hop the wall at the southwest corner.”
“No problem. I just reached the hairpin.”
“I’ve got you. I can see your bleed headlight in the treetops.”
“Is LG with you?”
“Affirm. Did you hear any sirens?” Nathan knew Harv would’ve rolled his windows down once he got within half a mile.