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Her heartbeat slowed way down as her body cooled, preparing herself for a battle, perhaps. She and one of the techs double-checked the windows and doors. They asked for a report from the snipers, and it came back negative. They were tracking both houses now.
Venom had calmed down but was lying down in front of the entrance, waiting, listening. She knew better than to take him outside, but he’d need to go soon if she didn’t.
She ignored the chattering until she heard a little scream and thought she detected Sally’s voice. Everyone at the consoles began to chatter. They purposely gave messages to the two men with her, Brandon and Gordon, to throw the others off.
“Hey, Brandon. We know you’re on the pot this morning. It doesn’t take an hour to take a shit, man,” Paul said, casually. “Please check-in.”
“Goose, Sally fixing bacon for breakfast? I’m needing some right about now,” he said to Gordon. He shrugged his shoulders and looked back at Lydia.
“Don’t know if it will work, but gotta try.”
She agreed.
Harper called her to let them know they found a farmer who lent them his ATV, and although it wasn’t very quiet, they’d be over the hill in about ten minutes. Lydia told him nothing showed up yet, but she thought she heard a cry for help, perhaps from Sally. “Or she’s been injured.”
Just then, Mallory used the comms. “Hey, guys, we got lots of coyotes over here. You be careful out there. Those guys are so cunning. They’re liable to hitch a ride on one of your drones, so don’t send ’em out, okay?”
The veiled message was that they were on the move.
Greg answered. “Got it. Quit looking for coyotes and do your job, Mal.”
“Asshole,” came the voice over the comms. Then they all heard a shot ring out. Greg was staring at a screen showing Sally’s garage as several people were herded into one group, attempting to get into Sally’s car. The people weren’t hurt, but Mallory had done a good number on the passenger side front tire. That vehicle would not be drivable.
Now alerted, the group quickly fell back to the house and disappeared.
She called Harper. “They’ve got them pinned down. We don’t know who’s there, but they can’t get away in a disabled vehicle, thanks to Mallory.”
“Awesome. We’re almost there.”
Venom squealed and ran to the back door. Two fully armed men shut down the lights inside to keep the intruders from seeing inside. Nothing they could do about their double monitor wall, though, so a blue light still lit up the room.
They wore vests and helmets with NV goggles, slipping out the back door. Venom wanted to run with them, but Lydia held him back. He was anxious to get out there and go after the source of his concern.
They stopped the chatter. Greg came up to Lydia with a whisper. “They want to release the dog. You okay with that?”
She looked at Venom, who sat at her feet, totally focused on her eyes, begging for the chance to track. It would break her heart if anything happened to the dog. She had to rely on his training, on her faith that he’d be smart enough to get to someone before he got hurt. She didn’t have time to call Harper and ask for a second opinion. She had to act and act now.
“Let’s do it.”
The door opened a few inches, and Venom made space through it and dashed off the deck, stealthy in his pursuit of something out there. Two shots rang out, but they heard Venom grab hold of something.
One of the Team fired. The dog was still making good work out of wrangling someone until one member arrived, and the noises ceased.
She didn’t want to call out for him. She really didn’t want to, but she heard him barking and running up the trail as fast as he could, toward the back door of the house. He leapt into Lydia’s arms. His teeth and mouth were covered in blood, but the dog was ecstatic. The whole team cautiously checked him over and gave him kudos he gladly accepted.
Greg was watching out for his teammates, and finally, they returned. They had the couple, both wearing military grade gear, including tactical vests. The man had taken a kill shot to the head, and the woman was screaming in pain, her left arm and neck mangled by the dog.
Lydia was on the phone to Harper.
“We’re right outside Sally’s house. That’s great news.” He hung up.
Harper left his comms on so the rest of the team could listen. He’d cornered Lipori in the garage. The terrorist threatened to shoot Sally, who was draped over him, apparently unconscious.
Lipori also wore an earpiece. Lydia thought this was all staged like some kind of passion play. But of course, Lipori, ever the overly confident evildoer, could never envision he could lose this little battle, not without taking a whole bunch of people with him.
She knew he would try to take Harper.
Except he had one flaw. He wanted to live, unlike some of the jerks he trained. He was no suicide terrorist. He enjoyed living too much. He would never get rid of the grip he had on the chance to make other’s lives miserable, pawns in his own horror movie.
