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At exactly one-hundred and twenty seconds, we all move in. The exterior motion lights are disabled, but the house immediately flickers to life and shadows fill the windows.
“I’ve got four,” Ford calls through his mic.
“Same.” Major aims at the second level.
We each take a window and wait. Talon throws a rock at the door and the shadows move, shooting through their glass. I bust through the door with the others close.
There’s a millisecond to assess the room. One man’s eyes widen in shock, taking in our military status, and then he shouts as gunshots erupt. We return fire, taking them down easily.
“Bet those cocksuckers wished they volunteered for the dinner run with their buds.” Talon’s voice comes through my earpiece.
Major leads us down the hallway.
Our intelligence of the property told us the rear of the house is all windows with a view of the water beyond a small cliff. The tunnel runs under that side of the property.
We’ve been warned there are rooms hidden along the tunnel that aren’t on the plans. They could hold areas for almost anything—drugs, ammunition, artillery, whatever.
Our only concern is getting the family. The rest of the teams can recon the tunnel.
We round the corner and Major stops, signaling our prediction is correct. These guys are using the library as their command center. The only sound is the clicking of fingers typing. Then a man barks in loud, rapid-fire Spanish.
Out of all of us, Major is the expert in linguistics. We can hold our own with the basics, but Major has spent the last few days studying the Columbian-style Spanish dialect.
The man barking orders is getting more frustrated, his words coming too fast for me to pick anything up.
“The others are less than five minutes out. He thinks we’re local government,” Major expertly relays the information in his mic without making an audible sound. “They’ll surround the perimeter.”
Talon sends a message on the handheld, alerting the others to get ready. Ford catches my eye and tugs on his ear. I listen closely and pick up the ticks and clicks of the typing now in a pattern. Immediately, I make out the Morse code and start deciphering the message.
This has always been my area.
Two men, three o’clock and nine. Two covering my family in back. Armed.
As the words come together, I convey them using hand signals. Talon and Ford take off toward the back, and Major silently communicates with me he’s got the lead-in. I nod and wait.
“We’ve got eyes on the wife and kids. Going to flush them out,” Ford mutters in our ear.
A few seconds later, the unmistakable explosion of the flash bang echoes through the house followed by four shots.
The Spanish begins again, and this time, I recognize a few words. He’s threatening our man while yelling at his cohort to find out what’s happening.
That’s all we need. Major crouches, raises his gun, and edges in.
Both men spot us at the same time, aiming our way.
We take our shots and they go down.
“Bayer?” The man’s been worked over. Black eyes, lips split, dried blood on his temple.
“Kingston and Powers.” I point between Major and myself.
“My family?” He winces, a dribble of blood pooling at the corner of his mouth.
“All clear!” Talon yells from the back of the house.
“Let’s get you to them.”
“Hold on.” Bayer twists back to the computer, his fingers flying across the keyboard. He then slams the laptop shut and shoves it under his arm, standing. “You have a piece I can borrow?”
“We need to worry about anything?”
“Nope, but I want to shoot that motherfucker that touched my wife and kids.”
My lips twist as I hand over my pistol, jerking my head to the hallway. “We’re headed out the tunnel.”
“Tell your men to get my family out. We’re coming.”
“Move out. We have Bayer, and we’re right behind.”
“Roger that,” Talon whistles in the mic.
Bayer takes the lead this time. When we pass the bedroom, he veers in, and two gunshots ring out.
“This is my kind of guy.” Major voices his approval.
Bayer returns. Even with his features swollen and bruised, it’s easy to see his satisfaction. “Wasn’t the kill shot, but it’ll do.”
“Let’s roll.” I move to the open doorway off the hall and motion for Bayer to go down first. Ford announces in our ear that they’re out and teams are surrounding the perimeter. “Your family is out safely.”
“We’ve got company,” Talon warns in our ear.
The three of us move, Major and I keeping our guard up, edging down the stairs and the hall backward with our eyes alert. Shouts from the men get louder when they find their friends dead.
“As soon as you asses care to join us, they’re ready to go. On the double would be nice,” Ford tells us unnecessarily. Asshole has the nerve to sound bored. We’re all aware of the plan to ambush and capture any remaining kidnappers for interrogation.
