No. Crusher relied on his hands. They were the most lethal weapon he owned. If all else failed, he’d rely on the strength of the US dollar over the Colombian peso.
The helicopter dropped him in a clearing half a click from the compound on the other side of a ridge that would help to mask the sound of the rotors from anyone listening in the compound. He had exactly five minutes to get over the ridge, assess the situation and make his move.
Two minutes later, he topped the ridge in the cloud forest and peered through the trees. He could just make out the straight edges of a roofline, tucked beneath a tall canopy of trees and partially hidden beneath leaves and camouflage netting.
A minute later, he was halfway down the other side of the ridge, moving close enough to make out two guards standing at the front of a modern building constructed of metal. Sleek and new. Odd for being out in the jungle. A dirt road led through the jungle along the base of the ridge, culminating at the front of the building.
The two guards leaned against the structure on either side of what appeared to be the front door, their military-grade rifles aimed downward. One man took a cigarette from his breast pocket and handed it to the other man, then took another out for himself. His partner produced a lighter.
While the two guards smoked, Crusher skirted the clearing, moving quietly in the shadows. He noted two trucks parked near the side of the building. There were no windows on the front, side or back of the building. A third guard stood solo at the back of the building, leaning against a single door, his head drooping as if he were half-asleep.
Crusher moved in on silent feet. The guard didn’t know he was there until it was too late.
No sooner had the man lifted his chin than he was down. Crusher didn’t bother to drag his body away. He glanced at his watch. Five minutes down. Ten to go.
He hurried around the other side of the building, clinging to the shadows. When he arrived at the corner, he used the mirror he kept in his pocket and sneaked a peek at the guards manning the front, still smoking and speaking to each other in Spanish.
Crusher spoke a little Spanish but understood more. They were talking about a football game between rival teams, arguing over which was better.
He didn’t have time to lure them away from the door one at a time. With less than ten minutes remaining, he had to make a move.
Crusher picked up a small rock, weighed it in his palm and returned to the corner. He lobbed the rock in a trajectory that took it over the guards’ heads, where it landed in the shadows among the trees at the edge of the compound.
They stopped talking and frowned, their hands raising their weapons to the ready position. The man closest to him moved toward the trees.
While their attention was on the shadows beneath the trees, Crusher slipped along the wall of the building, moving swiftly.
He was five feet away from them by the time the two men realized he was there. He was ready, snapping one of his throwing knives at the man closest to him without breaking stride. The blade hit the target in his neck, severing the guard’s carotid artery. The man slapped his hand on the knife and removed it before realizing he was about to bleed out.
Crusher performed a flying sidekick, knocking the man and his weapon in the chest, sending him crashing to the ground.
Crusher landed, hand ready with the second knife before the other guard could turn and aim. He launched the knife, hitting the man in the eye. The man cried out, dropped his weapon and reached for the knife. Crusher reached him, grabbed his head and twisted sharply, snapping the man’s neck.
The guard dropped dead beside his dying partner.
Without wasting more time, and fully aware of the cameras at the corners of the building, Crusher rushed for the door, flung it open and raced inside. If anyone had been monitoring the video feed, he’d have more guards headed his way.
Footsteps pounded down a hallway to the right. Crusher stepped toward the middle hallway and waited silently. A guard emerged, heading for the front door. As he reached the open door, Crusher slipped up behind him, slung his arm around the man’s neck and sliced through his carotid artery and windpipe. The man went down. Crusher grabbed his leg and dragged him away from the door and into the right hallway, clearing the path should they need to exit through this route.
A door slammed somewhere in the center of the building, and more footsteps pounded toward him—two men, from the sound of it. One shouted to the other in Spanish.
As they neared Crusher, he stuck out his leg, tripping the first one. He jammed his Ka-Bar knife into the second man’s chest, cutting into his heart. That man fell on top of the one Crusher had tripped, trapping him beneath the weight of his dead body. Crusher reached down and dispatched the trapped man before he could free himself. With the two men down in front of the door, he couldn’t spare the time to move them. With only five minutes until exfil, he had to get to the asset and return to the extraction zone, or they’d miss their ride out of the godforsaken jungle.
The flash of silver dangling from the side of the dead man on top caught Crusher’s attention. He reached for a ring of keys, yanked them free of the belt loop on the man’s trousers and turned toward the interior.
Following the diagram he’d committed to memory, Crusher raced down the center hallway to the door at the end. He tried the knob. It was locked. He spent half a minute inserting five keys before he found the one that opened the door. He twisted the knob, stood to the side of the door and eased it open. When no shots were fired, he eased his head around the doorjamb.
From the schematic and the looks of the room, it had to be the laboratory. His gaze shot left and right, searching for more of the armed guards. There were none. He entered the room, his gaze landing on the only person present, seated at a white table with a laptop, centrifuge and a microscope positioned in front of her.
Female. Check.
Auburn hair. Check.
Crusher hurried forward.
Tired green eyes narrowed at him. Check.
“Dr. Hale?” Crusher said.
