If she didn’t come back?—
Enough.
The terrorists first. Even if this time felt different.
Head on straight, Meyer.
Caro stayed close on his heels. Whatever panic she’d had in the vent was gone, burned off by necessity.
When they reached the crane platform, Wyatt pulled her down behind a cluster of storage containers. The crane loomed overhead—a massive steel structure, cables thick as a man’s arm, the hook assembly clinking in the storm. Beyond it, through the sleet, the cargo ship approached on the horizon.
“Caro—”
Movement near the crane.
Too many people.
Hostages.
A cold knot formed in his gut.
Their hands zip-tied, they stumbled toward the crane in a ragged line—twenty, maybe twenty-five. Armed men flanked them, prodding anyone who lagged into position.
That complicates things.
“Bloody hell,” Caro hissed. “What the hell are they doing?”
“Protection. Akilov isn’t stupid. You park civilians on top of critical infrastructure, and suddenly every shot carries consequences.”
Six guards. Three disciplined—weapon positions correct, eyes moving. Three sloppy—clustered together, weapons loose.Talking. The sloppy ones would panic first. The disciplined three would be the problem.
He could make it work.
First two down fast.
Third and fourth return fire.
Cover holds.
Five and six were the problem—farthest from him, clearest shot at the hostages if they scattered.
And they would.
Twenty-five people panicking in the crossfire. One stray round. One ricochet off metal. Someone dies.Fuck.
He squinted through the sleet at the crane supports. “Show me the placement points.”
Caro scooted forward so she was level with him. She peered over the top of the storage container and pointed. “There. That support column. And there—the cross-beam junction. You see them?”
“I see them.” And the hostages now huddled there, their shoulders hunched against the weather.Shit.
“And the third one at the base. Take those three out and the whole thing collapses toward the ocean.”
Wyatt closed his eyes briefly, visualizing the placements. C4 on each support. Shaped charges angled toward the ocean.
Ten minutes work. Maybe fifteen if they had to be careful. But he couldn’t blow the crane with civilians sitting underneath it. He had to get them out first.
Jen would want that. She’d been willing to destroy her own system to protect strangers. She wouldn’t let him drop a crane on her crew or risk their lives in a firefight.
