Twenty Minutes Earlier
Brute slapped the Jeep's roof and stepped back, and without another word, Cassie punched the gas pedal. They sped away, leaving the team covered in sand and dust.
Brute turned to the others. "Let's get a move on!"
"Ugh." Snapshot moaned and threw up again.
Panther shook her head at him. "Shake it off, Wusspuss!"
He nodded grimly and fell in beside Brute while Panther and Shrapnel took positions on their six. "Sorry. That was one hell of a ride."
"It was." Brute agreed curtly, his attention already shifted to the mission ahead.
The four moved cautiously, yet quickly, and approached a series of jagged rocks and wind-carved outcroppings beside the road, fifty yards from the complex's perimeter. Brute crouched behind the natural cover, lifted binoculars from around his neck, and scanned the entrance, gauging the positions and count of the guards. "I count eight hostiles. Two at the security gate, one in the watchtower, and five waiting by the entrance." A pause came as his head swiveled slowly in a fluid panoramic motion. He cursed under his breath. "Fuck. This place is built like a fortress—very few windows, all barred. Can't see shit inside."
He handed the field glasses to Panther, and she studied the structure's perimeter. "We'll have to change our plan. There's no way I can reach the outer wall to scout. The gate guards will spot me."
"Give me a rough estimate of the layout instead."
She did a quick pan down the wall to take in the building's imposing silhouette against the darkening sky. A quick calculation followed. "One hundred and twenty yards long, sixty wide. Doors every thirty yards. Two floors, each about ten, maybe twelve feet high. Basement level almost certain—and probably a sub level for utilities."
"Best guess, location of the kids?"
"Far end. Interior, someplace with no windows. Basement, first level, with at least two entrances. Sub-basement wouldn't be ideal; it would be a kill box."
"Agreed." Brute nodded, then started to continue. "As soon as we lose the sun, we'll—"
A sudden explosion at the guard shack disrupted him. Two soldiers hurriedly ran away in panic along the exterior wall, abandoning their posts as debris poured down around the smoking remains.
"What just happened?" Shrapnel peered around Brute to see chunks of concrete bounce across the dusty ground.
"Charlie." Snapshot lifted his rifle in one fluid motion, took aim, and quickly dispatched both fleeing soldiers while they were out of sight of the other guards. His eye still glued to his scope, he suggested. "I say we use this."
Brute nodded approvingly. "Agreed. Snapshot, see the sentry on the tower to the right? Take him out, then watch our backs."
"Roger. Eagle-Eye position."
"We don't have time to dawdle, people. The trade's supposed to take place soon. We need to have the distractions set and locate the kids by then. Once we detonate, they'll send reinforcements. Be ready for a pinned-down firefight."
"Here!" Shrapnel pulled out a clump of F-bombs, hands slightly trembling with excitement. "J-just in case, r-red tape has full yield, bl-ue is reduced. Use bl-blue to take down doors, red to redecorate interior walls, and str-structural points."
"These are good, but we need something smaller. Something to catch the attention of the sentries at the door, but no one inside. What'cha got for that?" Brute already knew the answer, but he knew his friend loved to show off.
Grinning widely, Shrapnel fished out a handful of cherry bombs from his vest pocket. "Perfect f-for ding-dong d-ditch."
"Perfect. Use those first." Brute paused and considered the tactical advantages. "In fact, I want you two to move along the complex and set off a series of pops to bring out sentries in smaller groups. Clear as many as possible before setting the big bang."
"I like it." Panther's grin matched his enthusiasm. "Like picking grapes off the vine."
A glance up at the sky showed Brute where the sun hung low on the horizon. He nodded firmly. "Sun's setting. Let's move!" He crouched down and led the team cautiously between outcroppings and ditches until they were as close as they could safely stay hidden.
From his position, Brute peered around the corner and observed Cassie lead Charlie into the front entrance. Three soldiers escorted them while the other pair positioned themselves on either side of the doors. "Panther. Eyes on the tower. Signal Snapshot if the guard's position changes. Shrapnel. Distraction. Snapshot, I want you to take out the tower guard precisely when the bombs go off, then clear a path for me."
"Copy." All three answered in unison.
Panther shifted to a vantage point where she could see the tower guard, who was clearly interested in the women's arrival at the front entrance. She nodded for Shrapnel to go ahead.
He crouched low to reduce his profile, moved fast along the outer wall, and placed cherry bombs beneath the tower. He flicked a lighter, lit the fuses, then hurriedly but quietly returned to the group. A pause in front of Brute came with a grin as the small bombs exploded behind him, successfully drawing the attention of the remaining sentries.
The tower guard took three steps to inspect the explosion when he fell from a bullet through the eye, courtesy of Snapshot.
At the same instant the cherry bombs popped, Brute rounded the corner toward the front entrance and ran at full speed. His sudden appearance—a burly soldier charging directly at them—caught both sentries off guard and gave Snapshot the chance to take them out with precise shots that dropped them where they stood.
His shoulder thrown forward, Brute shattered the front door with a thunderous crash and dropped low with his pistol ready. He immediately spotted the men who had been ordered back to the entrance. They all froze in shock and surprise—amateurs. Before they could shout a warning or raise their weapons, Brute mowed them down swiftly.
Quickly but carefully, he navigated the long hallway until he reached the central foyer. Brute paused at the junction, looked left and right, then upward toward the second level where ornate railings cast shadows in the dim light. Instinctively, he knew Bible was up there somewhere. He considered a direct confrontation but quickly dismissed the idea. There could be no deviation from the mission parameters.
He started down the hall while pulling a tracking device from his gear. He pressed a button, and a GPS blip on the black and green screen showed a history of Cassie's movements, ending with an active blip of her current location. Now he knew how far ahead they were and which way they had taken. He stayed far enough behind to avoid detection and kept following.
Based on Cassie's erratic movements toward doors, he knew when and where each one would be before he approached. This gave him the tactical advantage of sneaking up on anyone who might be inside. He slowly approached each in turn and discovered that most contained stockpiles of weapons and gold bars stacked from floor to ceiling. Bible had amassed enough wealth to run a small country, and Brute felt a personal satisfaction at the opportunity to blow the entire place to hell.
Methodically, he tracked the GPS signal as it made a sharp ninety-degree turn further down the corridor, and he continued to move until he reached the junction. He knew the path they had taken led to Angel, and trusted Cassie and Charlie to carry out their part of the mission. He also knew they were running out of time to be in position for their part.
Brute picked up the pace, took the opposite corridor, and soon reached the end of the hallway, where a large and imposing metal door sat. He grabbed the handle and pulled, but it didn't budge.
He reached into his satchel, grabbed a blue F-bomb, peeled off the blue backing from the square sticky pad, and pressed it between the handle and the seam of the door. He set the small timer for fifteen seconds and sprinted back twenty yards. He dropped to one knee, cupped his ears, and prepared for the blast.
The explosion wasn't loud—more like a big pop—but it achieved its purpose. The metal door, with its lock nearly shattered by the small blast, swung outward with a long creak. Brute moved cautiously, pistol drawn in case he'd alerted anyone on the other side, and peered into the archway. What he expected to find was there: concrete stairs leading down. He'd found the basement.
Relieved, he started down the narrow stairwell, each footstep on the old, worn concrete echoing softly in the narrow stairwell. He pressed the radio button, whispered a report, and asked for an update. "Found the basement. Going for the kids. Status?"
Panther's voice crackled back. "We did a little trick-or-treating, scored some nice candy. Coast is about clear out here, and the main explosives are in place."
"Copy." He replied quietly. "They should be with Angel by now. Set the explosives off in two minutes on my mark; that should give them and me the distraction we need. Then I need you to find another way down here to back me up, Panther."
"Copy."
"Radio silence until the next phase." He ordered, then set the plan in motion. "Mark."
"Two minutes. Silent running." Panther confirmed before the line went quiet.
At the bottom of the staircase, Brute was about to go down the dimly lit hallway when he heard the unmistakable screams of a man and the sickening sound of ripping flesh.
A demonic voice echoed through the halls. "Did you hear that, prey? You're next!"
Cassie! Charlie! Brute turned to race back up the stairs, but caught himself before he took a step. His radio clicked instead as he whispered urgently. "Cassie! Report!"
A cackle of distorted noise came back, with her voice barely audible in the mix. "Can't talk now! Just get the kids!"
Her orders were crystal clear; if they were going to save the children, he had to trust that the women would handle their situation. With a muttered curse, Brute turned back and sprinted down the hallway. He'd wasted time—now only ninety seconds remained to find the children.
As Brute disappeared inside the structure, Panther assumed command of perimeter ops. She used her radio and called Snapshot with orders. "Watch our six, we're gonna trek the south wall, ring a few doorbells, and see who answers."
From his new position at the top of the tower, which he'd occupied during Brute's break into the compound, Snapshot responded. "Copy. Voyeur mode." His voice crackled back through the static.
Panther led Shrapnel through a gate that placed them just inside the entrance. They moved along it, advancing cautiously to the front doors, and looked around the corner and down the length of the structure. "No sentries outside. We should be good to get to the north side and set the distractions."
"G-good." Shrapnel nodded and checked his equipment. "I'll n-need about th-three minutes. I want to s-set two spots and s-split up the response."
Panther nodded and headed down the wall with him close behind. She watched for sentries that might be scouting the perimeter as Shrapnel set the first explosive charges against a section of weathered stone, then signaled for her to move forward about thirty yards, where he placed the second set.
They moved another thirty yards to where he placed two red F-bombs against a section of wall that showed significant structural cracks running like spider webs through the ancient mortar. "This will create a b-bigger hole, and we'll b-breach here."
"We're set," Panther spoke into her headset to Snapshot. "We're going trick-or-treating. Be ready."
"Copy. Hope they have full-size bars." Snapshot responded with dry humor.
Her head tilted toward the nearest door. "Shrapnel, toss a cherry bomb near the first door."
He threw one of his small firecrackers at the recessed door. The loud snap echoed across the desert landscape and attracted two guards to investigate the noise. They appeared cautiously, weapons raised, and scanned the area slowly.
"Now that's what I call room service." Snapshot muttered, his suppressed rifle barely audible as both targets dropped before they could react. The bodies crumpled to the dusty ground with barely a sound. "Two RSVP'd for dirt naps. Special delivery."
"Shrapnel, another cherry bomb, please. Next door."
Three more guards emerged from inside, only to fall under Snapshot's precise fire before they could assess the situation. The suppressed shots were barely audible beyond the walls, with each target dropped like flies.
"This is working perfectly," Panther observed with satisfaction. ."
They continued the deadly process—each cherry bomb drew out two to three guards, who fell silently under the sniper's crosshairs before they could retreat or raise an alarm.
"Alright, I count at least twelve hostiles down." Snapshot reported via comms. "The yard's looking pretty thin out here, and nobody inside seems to know we're cooking."
"Good. Shrapnel and I set the main explosives in three precise spots for the main distraction and established the exit point. I'll head inside once we clean house."
"Hold a second." His voice buzzed in her ear. "I got eyes on three more."
"Take 'em out."
The pair heard tiny zips, multiple grunts, then silence as the last exterior guards fell.
"Three more on ice. Coast is clear." Snapshot confirmed and added with a bit of humor. "Until you ring the dinner bell."
"Copy." She nodded to Shrapnel. "By my count, Brute should be in position just about now."
On cue, her radio buzzed. "Found the basement." Brute's deep voice crackled in her ear. "Going for the kids. Status?"
"We did a little trick-or-treating, scored some nice candy," Panther affirmed and updated him. "Coast is about clear out here, and the main explosives are in place."
"Copy." He replied quietly. "They should be with Angel by now. Set the explosives off in two minutes on my mark; that should give them and me the distraction we need. Then I need you to find another way down here to back me up, Panther."
"Copy."
"Radio silence until the next phase. Mark."
"Two minutes. Silent running." Panther confirmed before the line went quiet. She turned to Shrapnel and tapped the wall beside them. "When we blast, all remaining hostiles will rush toward the explosions. That'll leave you safe and alone to set up our last distraction away from the exit point. I'll rendezvous with Brute inside."
"C-copy!" Shrapnel affirmed the order.
They fell silent. Panther kept her eyes on the second hand of her black-faced Suunto military chronograph, its luminous markers faintly glowed in the desert dusk. She held focus on the sweeping hand as it circled the face twice and counted down the final seconds.
When they reached the mark, Panther nodded at her companion. "Shrapnel?"
With a characteristic smirk, he flipped the safety up on the trigger and gleefully whispered without a stutter. "Fire in the hole!" Then he clicked the button.
The announcement of their presence came with earth-shaking authority. The shockwave rippled outward, shattered windows, and sent vibrations through the foundation. Panther whistled in awe as the stone wall disintegrated in two places, leaving gaping holes with jagged edges and clouds of pulverized masonry.
They waited ten seconds as shouts from inside began to rise, including a loud and enraged chorus of "What the fuck?" that echoed from multiple voices throughout the structure.
The confusion and panic were immediate and widespread. Then, Shrapnel detonated the smaller F-bombs, which obliterated the wall section near their position with precise demolition.
Swiftly, both darted through the newly opened gap and observed fourteen soldiers spreading out, sprinting toward the two blast sites. Those farther away started to fall under Snapshot's piercing rifle fire. Panther and Shrapnel dropped to their stomachs and opened fire. Muzzle flashes lit up the courtyard as automatic weapons rattled and cut down the disoriented guards.
When all movement ceased, Panther called for an update. "Snapshot, report."
He responded with a quip. "It's like naptime at pre-school, everyone's down."
"Roger. Can you get to the west wall and keep your eyes on Shrapnel?"
"Copy. Babysitting duty." Snapshot confirmed and went silent.
Panther nodded to Shrapnel. "You're up."
With a grin, he took off back toward the front entrance. Panther sprinted along the wall behind him and reached a door that hung wide open, its frame twisted by the nearby explosions. A peek inside revealed a large room where the soldiers likely spent their off-duty time—overturned chairs and scattered playing cards testified to their hasty departure. Empty—they'd all responded to the explosions. She entered, found the door on the opposite side, and peered through its round window. She saw the area was clear, slowly opened it, and stepped through.
After a quick assessment, she scouted the next room and found a large metal door. She tested the handle; it swung open with a sharp pull, and she peeked inside and looked down.
Stairs!
Not only that, but she could hear the distinct sound of children's voices from somewhere below—whispered fears and muffled sobs that tightened her jaw with resolve. Panther exhaled slowly; her tactical guess had been correct. This had to be the same basement system Brute had found from the other side.
The walls were rough and water-stained, condensation ran down from the seams like tears, and the air was thick with the musty smell of mold. She descended the stairs with light, silent steps, shoulders tensed and alert for any movement. Halfway down, she heard loud footsteps and harsh shouts of men coming from the same direction as the kids.
"Shit!" Panther cursed and holstered her weapon. There was absolutely no way she was going to fire in a room full of children. Not after last time.
She finished her descent down the stairs swiftly, stealth no longer an option, and moved to conceal herself in an alcove carved into the stone wall. She looked down the hallway and caught Light shining through another large door, with the frightened cries of the children audible beyond.
"Brute." She whispered into her comm. "I found them. Northwest corner of the complex."
"I know." His voice crackled back. "I'm about thirty yards from the door on my side. A dozen soldiers came running by a moment ago. I barely managed to get out of sight."
"Do you think the distraction helped the girls?" Panther whispered back, concern evident in her voice. "Do you think they got Angel?"
Brute knew otherwise from what he'd heard, but he didn't want to add to her stress. It was his burden to bear. "I hope so. But either way, Bible knows we're here now."
"Even without the explosions, the mass of dead soldiers outside would have given us away eventually. Shrapnel's setting up our escape route. But, Brute—what do we do? We can't go in with guns blazing. The kids!"
"I know! I'm thinking!" His voice betrayed the weight of command and the memory of past failures. There would be no repeat of last time, not under his watch.