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They were the ones who put cold fear in Ryland’s heart. Their evil ways brought true terror into the world. And that’s why he vowed to take them down.
As they began to descend, Ryland realized it was a lot like rappelling. Counting the floors as they lowered, he pictured where they’d be breaking in—the music room window on the 133rd floor. They figured it would most likely be empty since Bashar didn’t play any instruments.
At least they hoped.
“How long do you think it takes them to clean all these windows?” Ryland mused.
Banshee was in his ear with an answer practically before Ryland finished his question. “It takes two and a half months to clean all 20,000 windows and when they’re finished, they start all over again.”
“Huh. Aren’t you just full of useless knowledge?”
“That’s my job.”
“Banshee, are we clear?” Saint asked calmly.
“I’ve got eyes everywhere and closest tango is on the 132nd floor. One-three-three is clear. Be careful, boys.”
“Roger.”
Ryland and Saint stopped their descent and swayed outside the window. The wind had begun to pick up but Ryland ignored it, focusing completely on the mission. Pulling his backpack around, he removed a small drill and used it to remove the bolts holding the window in place. Then he and Saint replaced the existing bolts with custom bolts buffered with rollers. Carefully, they pried at the window corners and popped the pane free. Using the rollers, they pulled it forward, leaving just enough room for them to slip inside.
With his feet back on the ground, Ryland unbuckled his harness and shrugged it off. He pulled his backpack back on and removed the Glock 19, equipped with a silencer, from its holster.
Time to go hunting.
Ryland and Saint moved forward through the enormous music room, skirting a Grand piano, a harp and velvet upholstered chairs. A crystal chandelier dominated the ceiling and an enormous tapestry, no doubt priceless, hung on one of the gilded walls. Not a speck of dust on any surface.
The place was way too rich for his blood.
In his head, Ryland once again pictured the layout of the 133rd floor: music room, grand salon library, media room with theater that seated 100 people, observatory, private reception gallery and guest and staff bedrooms.
He and Saint walked into the hallway on silent feet, communicating with hand signals. Saint might be an arrogant, moody asshole at times, but the man was a fearless and skilled pro, and Ryland respected the hell out of him.
Ignoring the elevator, they found the back staircase reserved for the staff and headed down.
“You’ve got a tango approaching from the east,” Banshee informed them. “Watch your six.”
Ryland had full confidence that Saint had his back and vice versa. Though the team had only been working together for six months, they were the best of the best. And for missions like these, confidence in your fellow team was crucial.
Moving forward, Ryland took point and Saint covered their asses. The 132nd floor was mostly bedrooms, multiple dressing rooms and a gaming room. The moment they spotted the tango, Ryland fired and took him down with two shots—one to the head, one to the chest. He dropped hard and fast and they skirted around him, heading straight for Bashar’s bedroom.
“How many in the master suite?” Ryland asked.
“Two,” Banshee reported.
“Roger.”
So far, so good.If Bashar was in the bedroom, they could wrap this up fast. If not, they would move down another level and methodically clear the study, private gym, catering kitchen, massive ballroom and outdoor terrace until they found their target.
Clearly, being an arms dealer and selling weapons to terrorists paid well. It made Ryland sick to his stomach. He knew good men who had died because the bad guys had weapons they shouldn’t have had access to. All thanks to fuckers like Yusuf Bashar.
And really? Who needs to live like this?he thought derisively, eyeing an ugly statue on a pedestal with a light shining down on it. A part of him wanted to smash it just for fun. Instead, he kept moving and paused directly outside the open door to Bashar’s bedroom.
After communicating with a look, Ryland and Saint swept into the room. A big security guard was standing near the door and the moment he saw them, he reached for his weapon. But he wasn’t fast enough. Ryland took him out with two swift shots while Saint moved past the falling body and right into the bedroom.
Two more muffled shots filled the air.
Ryland touched his ear comms. “Two more tangoes down.”
