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“Because,” he closed his eyes and willed himself to remember the steps to secure the equipment, “she doesn’t want to be married to me anymore.”
They stepped back as if he’d told them he had a contagious illness. In some ways, it probably felt as though he did. If his relationship fell apart, only time would tell whether he was an outlier or the first domino.
Mike ran his fingers through his hair. “I, uh, wasn’t expecting to hear that shit.”
“I know, and I’ll admit it messed me up a little, but I’ve got this.” The steps came back, and he resumed his task. “We’re hashing that out when I get back stateside. Right now, I’m focused on getting these kids to safety. Wolfe, you once told me that our minds don’t work the same way when we’re in the zone, so we have to get our mental shit together when we’re on the ground. I’ve got my mental shit together.”
They mumbled their understanding.
Mike double-checked his ropes, likely on account of his earlier fumbling, but he didn’t complain. The last thing he needed was to find out he’d fucked something up when he was three stories high.
Gage reiterated their rendezvous point location.
They split up.
After giving the ring on his left hand a twist underneath his glove, Joel headed to the south side of the building.
CHAPTER5
Making sure to stay clear of the windows, no matter how flimsy they appeared to be, Joel continued his ascent until he reached his entry point on the fourth floor.
The building was old, so there was no glass to break. Where a latch and notch to lift the window had been once upon a time, a gaping wide opening stared back at him, covered by a thin piece of cloth.
Before entering, he listened for any movement. These guys weren’t exactly skilled, so their breathing, though quiet, would be erratic and shallow, fueled by adrenaline-infused anticipation. The device in his ear would further amplify their inexperience. However, hearing nothing, he climbed through the window and unhooked his equipment.
Mike was right; it was a storage room.
Old hospital beds covered in dust and debris were pushed against one wall. A cockroach the size of Europe skittered along the concrete floor, which was packed with so much dirt, it was like a carpet made of loose soil.
Joel made his way into the hall, which was equally dilapidated, tiles missing in large chunks from the ceiling with feathery, cottony material hanging out like guts. More beds, these the type on wheels, lined the walls, some completely upended.
In under twenty minutes, he and Mike had the entire floor mapped.
Once they were done, they reconvened in a south-facing room on the top floor that was a replica of ninety percent of the others—one window, a dirty floor, and enough dust to make a winter coat. The window in this room faced the back of the building, and from this high up, he could even see the village they’d passed through.
Julien’s voice echoed in their ears. “Thank you, gentlemen. Now, sit back and let me demonstrate the power of LiDAR technology. What’s LiDar, you ask?”
Mike rolled his eyes.
During times like these, when Julien had them at his mercy, they always ended up receiving an impromptu lesson in new tech, old tech, or modified systems developed by Mr. Hunter himself.
“To start, LiDar is an acronym for ‘light detection and ranging,’” Julien explained, far too giddy for their current circumstances. “Now, thermal imaging relies upon radiation, and it’s basically saying, ‘Hey, by comparing your body heat to the temperature around you, I can spit out an image that will let you know all who’s inside this place.’ LiDar, on the other hand, employs a laser and then builds a 3D scan based on the distance the light traveled before being reflected back to the laser. So, not only can I see the who, but I can also see the what. Now,couldI have used thermal imaging to—”
“Hunter,” Mike whispered.
“Yeah, my bad.”
While Julien worked, Joel walked to the window and peered out through the glassless opening. Despite knowing Gage, Giorgio, Julien, and Dez’s approximate locations, he saw nothing that suggested there was anything but thickets of grass scattered along the ground.
Something bright shined in his eye.
Frowning, he raised his rifle and peered through the scope. The male figure from before was back, and this person had to have a bladder the size of a six-week-old puppy’s. Either that, or they’d drank all night, and their body was purging itself of the alcohol. He’d certainly had similar nights in his twenties, most notably during his and Sydney’s off-periods.
“What is it?” Mike asked from behind him.
“Thought I saw a nozzle flash.” He lowered the rifle. “But it’s the same person from before.”
“Again?” Mike joined him. “Once is a coincidence. Twice is deliberate. Did you get a good look at them?”
