Page 147 of The Deadly Shallows

Standing, Caleb tracked the man, his aim focused on the center of his back. “Halt,” he said.

The man turned, raising his gun to fire, leaving Caleb no recourse.

He fired—one, two, three—until the man dropped to the ground, his AR-15 slipping from his open palm.

Caleb moved toward him, confirmed his death, and picked up his weapon. Having an extra weapon in this melee wasn’t a bad idea.

He moved with Mason, making their way deeper into the compound.

A half hour later, Axel Murphy announced over their headsets that they had control of the compound.

Caleb’s breath released on a prayer. Thank you, Jesus.

Now they just needed to find Dwayne and Frank Mirch among the men. Along with the laser plans or, heaven forbid, the weapon itself.

He shook his head as he took in the dead scattered across the hard-packed dirt. So many who could have lived if they just would have laid down their guns. “How many of ours are gone?” he asked, unable to see all his team members over the vast acreage and through the still-dissipating smoke.

“Two ATF. Two FBI,” came Bill Todd’s reply.

Caleb’s gut clinched. “I’m sorry to hear that.” But he hadn’t gotten a number on his team. “CGIS,” he said over the headset. “Report.”

Gratitude and thankfulness filled him as one by one his entire team present responded.

Thank you, Father, that none of my team died today, but good law enforcement members did. Please be with their families and those left behind.

“Eason,” Rissi said over the headset.

“Eason here. Go ahead, Rissi.”

“You need to see something in the basement of the farmhouse.”

Caleb’s gaze flashed five hundred yards northeast of his position to the old farmhouse he’d scoped out yesterday. “On my way.”

“Roger that,” Rissi said.

Two ATF agents stood guard on the porch, along with a sniper combing the perimeter to assess if any had escaped through a hidden exit.

Caleb nodded as he stepped passed them. “Good work.”

“You too,” one of the agents said as they both nodded.

Entering, Caleb found Finn guarding four prisoners secured on chairs.

“I’ll run prints as soon as things settle,” Finn said.

Caleb nodded his thanks, but they both knew the men’s identities had been scrubbed.

“Rissi and Logan are in the basement,” Finn said.

Caleb climbed down the narrow cellar steps into a full logistics room. Was it possible they’d finally made it to the end of the horror unleashed little more than a week ago? Two men were restrained in chairs, their hands zip-tied behind their backs—definitely not Frank or Dwayne.

Disappointment surging, Caleb turned his attention to the computer screens mounted on the wall running video surveillance of the entire compound.

“It appears,” Rissi said, “these two were left in command.”

“Yeah. They left us in charge, top-tier,” the prisoner with cropped red hair boasted. “The rest are just foot soldiers.”

The man next to him cussed. “What do you mean foot soldiers, Ted? My brother is out there.”