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Aidan didn’t smile. “It’s not meant to be original. It’s meant to get the message across.”
The small, quiet powerboat glided through the waters of Lake Champlain—the perfect spot from which Aidan and Marc could make their amphibious infiltration.
They were about a mile from shore when Aidan said, “Stop.”
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Ryan cut the motor and clutched his flashlight with the red lens over it.
“Wait for the text,” Marc reminded him, putting on his night goggles.
Looking a whole lot less cocky and whole lot more worried, Ryan said, “Be safe.”
“We plan to be.”
Marc rolled into the water alongside Aidan and adjusted his snorkel. Then, getting the thumbs-up from Aidan, he gave a hard nod, and the two men began to scuba in.
They reached shore, removing only their fins and breathing apparatus, staying in their wetsuits, and leaving on their scuba boots, night goggles, and hoods. Moving quickly, they made their way to the mansion. The first thing they did was to cut the spark plug wires on the diesel generator. Then they manually engaged the transfer switch, which cut off the utility power and caused the diesel engine to continuously crank without starting.
The entire house went dark. A commotion ensued inside—lots of yelling back and forth and pounding footsteps.
Marc and Aidan used the chaos to their advantage. Capable of seeing through their specialized goggles, they crept up to the study window, jimmied it open, and climbed through. Pistols raised, they made their way from room to room, moving rapidly alongside the walls, dodging cell phone flashlights when necessary and, as a result, bypassing the guards in their search for Emma.
Avoiding the master suite, they headed toward the basement.
“Hey!” A guard was posted outside the closed door. He reached for his gun as he spotted their moving forms.
In one swift move, Aidan had the guard in a choke hold, and Marc used the butt of his gun to knock him unconscious.
“There must be something—or someone—down there worth keeping hidden,” Aidan muttered.
Marc nodded, yanking open the door and descending the long flight of steps.
Aidan was right behind him.
The basement was musty, mostly a storage pit, with no activity or people in view, and lit by battery-operated incandescent wall sconces. So no one down here would be tipped off to the fact that there was a blackout.
“There.” Marc nudged Aidan with his elbow and pointed to a corridor off to the right.
Footsteps emanated from the hallway. A couple of security guys walked out, carrying Styrofoam cups of coffee. They talked as they drew near, probably headed for their break—and a whole-house blackout they didn’t even know existed.
Marc and Aidan each took one of them, dispatching them the way they had their colleague.
The guards crumpled to the hard concrete floor.
“Their replacements will be on their way,” Aidan said. “They’ll find their friend at the top of the stairs and blast down here.”
“There’s another set of basement stairs at the opposite end of that corridor,” Marc replied. “I remember them from the map. We’ll take those up once we have Emma. Come on.”
The corridor was short, with a bunch of storage closets and only one room. The unyielding handle told them that it was locked from the inside.
Aidan planted one foot on the ground and used his other foot to deliver a front kick near where the door latch was. The door fell open on its hinges. Aidan and Marc then burst inside.
The room was devoid of furniture but for a four-poster bed, a few chairs and side tables, and more wall sconces.
On the bed lay Emma.
Marc and Aidan were greeted by her haunted, terrified gaze. She’d been stripped naked, bound, and gagged, each of her limbs tied to a bedframe post. There was dried blood and bruising on her body, but there wasn’t time to evaluate the extent of her injuries now.
