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I went over to our rental SUV and double-checked my Kevlar plate carrier vest. The ballistic vest came with chest plates for protection, a first aid kit, a grenade pouch of ten, twelve ammo mags, and more. And tonight, rubber bullets.
“I got a bad feeling. You?” Hudson asked as I adjusted my knee pads, then flexed my hands into fists, stretching out the tactical gloves.
“You feel like we’re being watched?” I looked over at the bank of trees off to my right.
“I do, so heads on a swivel.” Hudson patted my shoulder as Carter and his men joined us.
I clipped on my helmet and knocked my night-vision goggles up out of the way.
“Your comms.” Jack handed out the earpieces. “We’ll be in your ear the whole time. No need to tap them on or off.”
Alessandro positioned it into his ear, and I did the same. “You ready?”
“Let’s go over the plan one more time.” Carter had an iPad, and we gathered around him, since he was Alpha One, team leader tonight. And thankfully, Constantine hadn’t argued about that. “This is our insertion point.” Carter zoomed in on the aerial view of the cabin. “Only four heat signatures inside. Pretty light for the CIA.”
“Yeah, I’m thinking Uncle Sam didn’t approve of their grab-the-cleaner-from-the-border-mission.” Jack spoke up.
“It’s possible the man we’re hunting paid off those CIA officers,” Carter said.
“And does that man have a name?” I asked.
“No, but we’re hoping to find it out tonight,” Carter answered, eyes on me. “But still, no killing any officers. We clear?”
“Roger that,” we agreed in unison.
“We’ll advance together until we’re three hundred meters from the cabin,” Carter went on. “We’ll break off, and the assault force will move in, and snipers will head to overwatch.”
The assault team consisted of Jesse, Jack, Alessandro, and myself. Carter, Hudson, and Constantine, the best shooters, would move to higher ground to get to a better field of vision with the widest coverage, and they’d have our sixes as we moved in. Well, that’d been the plan Jesse had shared with us on our drive to meet up with them from the airport. With any luck, it’d be a quick in and out.
But historically, luck was rarely on our side, and shit always went sideways. And with that “watched” feeling having my spine tingling, I readied my rifle and lowered my NVGs, and the green glow filled my line of sight.
“Let’s do this,” Jesse said after we did a comms check; then he fist-bumped us all, and we scattered into our positions.
I kept tabs on the rest of my crew on the assault team over comms, since I couldn’t visually make them out anymore, our camo clothes blending us into the terrain. “Nearing target location,” I shared, and a pop of static filled the line, followed by bursts of rounds being fired off in the distance. And then there it was. The bad feeling coming to life. “The cabin is under attack. A sharpshooter somewhere. Probably two.”
“This is Alpha One,” Carter said. “Get down until we can make out their positions. Stay low until the threats have been eliminated.”
“The men inside won’t have time.” I low-crawled, trying to locate where the shots were coming from.
“This is Alpha Five, I have one scoped. Let’s hit the snipers at the same time. Can anyone locate the second shooter?” Hudson asked.
“This is Alpha Seven. I have movement. Prepping the shot.” I lined my sights on the man’s chest. Dialed in my scope to two hundred meters. Then, letting go of a breath, I relaxed my body in anticipation of the shot.
“On my count,” Hudson said. “Three, two, one.”
I squeezed the trigger, and the recoil came back and into my shoulder. Contact made. “He’s down.”
“Mine as well,” Hudson answered.
“Charlie Mike,” Carter ordered. Continue mission.
“Fuck.” I heard someone curse over the line not even a second later, certain it was Constantine. And then an order. “Shields the fuck up. We’ve got a swarm heading our way from behind. We were followed.”
“I have movement. There’s still someone alive inside,” I said amid the gunfire. Screw rubber bullets. We’d been under attack for the last five minutes from every angle. I’d taken three lives so far tonight, and as I neared the cabin to check for life, I had a feeling there were more kills to come. “Permission to move inside and check?”
“This is Alpha One, I’ve got you covered. Move in,” Carter answered. “Alpha Two, go in with him. We’ve got you.”
Maybe it was something primal inside me, but as I maneuvered along the side of the cabin to access the room where I’d spied movement, my body hummed, and adrenaline propelled me forward. This was what I was good at. What I felt like I’d been made to do. Fight. Win wars. Be a fucking gladiator of modern times.
