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The M4 was in a sling across Cal’s chest, ready if he needed it. He slipped quietly from the bank and into the warm, murky water. His feet found the bottom. It was muddy as hell, and he sank in up to his ankles. Holding on to some long, thin, sturdy reeds growing over the bank, Cal relayed the intel. It would slow them down. Their luck had just turned sideways.
Every sense he owned was online now as Cal walked through the river. They had to make sure they were far enough away from the grass along the bank so as to not make any noise. Above them, the sky was cloudy. The air was humid and heavy with coming rain. In the distance, Cal heard thunder rumbling. It looked like the thunder cell was quickly heading from the north, moving south, right over them. Cal liked a thunderstorm or high winds. Both helped keep his team hidden, making it harder for the enemy sentries to see or hear them coming. Lightning jagged above them. Cal cursed to himself, halting. The lightning destroyed his vision for several moments. He waited for his sight to return, pulling down the NVG’s once more.
There would be no radio comms, no talking. Everything came down to hand signals or radio clicks. As Cal saw the villa emerge out of the night, he spotted a guard moving outside the cyclone fenced area, a rifle over his shoulder. He was alert and looking around. The wind picked up in a gust as the thunderstorm came marching down upon the villa. He watched the sentry pull his baseball cap a little tighter down on his head. He too, wore NVG’s. Cal timed the guard. They stood quietly in the reeds, unmoving, while he timed the next circuit.Five minutes.They had five minutes to get out of the river. Looking up, Cal spotted a huge thicket near the bank. He made a signal that the team was to go there.
Slipping over the bank, not making a sound, Cal crouched and ran along the bank, diving into the brush that was at least ten feet high and twenty feet long, paralleling the river. He quickly shrugged out of his ruck, opened it quietly, and pulled out his combat boots. In moments, Alex and Jack joined him, doing the same. They worked with swift efficiency. Kneeling, they watched the next guard round the end of the villa. They had another five minutes. Cal made a signal. Alex shot out like a silent shadow, heading for the nearest door. Was the door rigged? Locked? Did it have a security alarm on it? No one knew. Cal held his breath.
Alex approached the glass door. He reached out his black glove-clad hand and twisted the knob.Locked!Swiftly, he took out his lock picks and went to work. In a minute, he heard the tumblers click. Shoving the tools back into his pocket, he twisted the knob. The door opened. Instantly, he moved in and shut it. No alarm sounded. After clearing the room, which appeared to be a den of some sort, Alex hid behind heavy floor to ceiling drapes. A sentry walked by the hallway. As soon as he disappeared, Alex opened the patio door again. He watched Cal and Jack sprint across the yard. In seconds, they were in. Alex quietly shut the door.
Pulling out their pistols, NVG’s down, they prepared to move. They all had memorized the layout. Alex went first, his MP-445 Varyag .40 caliber Spetsnaz pistol up and ready to fire should he encounter anyone down the hall. He moved swiftly despite his height and bulk, the flagstone floor shining reflectively as lightning zagged across the villa. At the juncture of the two halls, Alex spotted the security room. Looking both ways, there was no human activity. He moved to the door, testing it.Locked.Pulling out his tools, he went to work, hoping whoever was inside wouldn’t hear him jimmie the lock with the continual crash of thunder rolling around the villa.
Cal halted with Driscoll at his back, turned the other way, keeping watch for anyone coming up behind them. His heart was thudding slowly. His breathing was calm. The years of training and combat as a SEAL lowered his blood pressure and reduced his heart rate. He watched with anxiety, however, as Alex picked the lock on the security door.
Suddenly, the door flew open.
They’d been compromised!
CHAPTER 19
July 15
Sky jerked awake.There was a commotion out in the hall! Drowsy, she pushed off the bed, her feet hitting the cool wooden floor. She tried turning on the lamp on the bed stand. Nothing happened. Was the electricity out? Pulling on her blue silk robe, she tied it, hurrying to the door. There was more noise. Her heart sped up. It sounded like a pistol with a silencer being fired! Was Alexandrov under attack by his enemies? Sky hesitated, hand hovering over the doorknob.
Suddenly, the door was flung open. It was dark, but she was able to see Yerik standing in the doorway, glaring at her. He had a pistol in his hand. He shoved her backward and slammed the door shut. Breathing hard, he grabbed Sky.
“You bitch!” he snarled, gripping her by the upper arm, hauling her in front of him. Looking around wildly, Yerik held the pistol toward the door. “Your friends are here!” he rasped, dragging her back from the door, keeping her in front of him as a shield.
Gasping, Sky cried out as he yanked her hard against him, his arm going around her neck, almost crushing her airway and partially cutting off her carotid artery.
Lightning flared, eerily lighting up the room.
“W-what?” Sky rasped, trying to pull his arm away from her throat.
“Bitch! There are operators in the villa! I don’t know how they got in! Stand still,” and Yerik pressed the gun to her temple. “You’re my ticket out of here.”
Panic surged through Sky. Operators? Cal? SEALs? Her mind spun. Another bolt of lightning flashed, and thunder rolled, the whole villa shaking beneath the power of the booming sounds. The door suddenly swung open. She gasped. A man in black, rifle up, wearing NVG’s, stood in the doorway. His rifle was pointed at her. Choking, feeling Yerik’s arm tightening against her throat, Sky sagged against him, desperately clawing at his arm to release her so she could breathe.
“Back out,” Yerik shouted at the operator. “Or I’ll kill her!”
Sky gasped and struggled, but Yerik was much taller, much stronger. Her eyes were wide, her mouth contorted. The man in the black suit with the rifle didn’t move. She recognized his form even though she couldn’t see his face because of the balaclava NVG’s hiding his face. It was Cal! Whimpering, Sky struggled more, feeling faint, her blood supply nearly shut off by Yerik’s arm across the artery in her neck. She knew operators were the best at shooting in hostage situations. And that Yerik, although he held her as a shield, was still a target.
“Back off!” Alexandrov roared. He jammed the pistol against Sky’s temple. She cried out in pain.
Cal watched carefully. Rage surged through him as Sky whimpered. He was waiting for a shot at Alexandrov’s head. Yerik had come running down the hall until he saw them coming, then he dived into Sky’s room. “Let her go and you live, Alexandrov,” Cal snarled in a low voice.
Stunned, Sky stopped struggling. Cal’s voice was quiet and deadly sounding. Emotions erupted through her, and she wanted to cry out his name, but she was barely able to breath. And then, she remembered something Cal had told her. He’d been training her in rescue techniques back at their cabin. And now, she was going to use one. She prayed it would work, prayed that Yerik wouldn’t shoot her.
Sky suddenly dropped toward the floor. Even though Alexandrov had her neck in a choke hold, it jerked him forward and off balance. With Yerik distracted, Cal took the shot. Once to the head.
The Russian was jerked off his feet, flying backward.
Sky collapsed on the floor, coughing violently, holding her hand against her throat.
Cal moved forward, his eyes never leaving Alexandrov, who crumpled in a heap on the floor behind her.
“Stay down,” he ordered her harshly.
Moving swiftly, Cal heard other commotion out in the hall behind him. Alex had run into trouble. He’d killed the two sentries in the control room and swiftly shut off the electric grid. One of the guards had gotten off a shot with a pistol before going down, and the roar of it had careened through the villa, awakening everyone, including Alexandrov, who had come running out with a weapon in hand.
