Hired to Kill (The Nathan McBride Series Book 7)

by Andrew Peterson

  “I’m on it.”

  Tango one asked about the truck’s headlights—whether she should turn them off when they got close to the ranch house.

  Vince said yes, if anyone was outside waiting. Then he asked, “Sandra, where exactly did this truck come from?”

  “We didn’t see it until it emerged from the far side of the house—which is where the garages are. One of them is attached to the main residence’s south wing. The other is freestanding next to the helipad. It’s probably a hangar.”

  “Okay, as best you can, I want you to drive the exact route this truck took coming out here.”

  “No problem,” she said.

  “Here we go. We’ll be visible from the ranch house in a few seconds.”

  Nathan glanced over his shoulder and couldn’t see the sedan. It was so close, the truck’s tailgate screened it from view.

  Sierra one said, “Let me know if you need to slow down up there. Your brake lights are out, so give me as much advance warning as possible, or I’m going to be wearing your bumper.”

  “Will do,” Vince said. “We’re going to speed up a little to raise a bigger dust cloud.”

  They trundled along, but it wasn’t a terribly rough ride. No doubt the truck was handling the ruts and potholes better than the sedan.

  Nathan watched the valley on the far side of the ridge materialize. He saw the dim lights of the ranch house right away. Several windows glowed. His NV registered all kinds of little solar landscaping lights weaving around the structure. They probably followed exterior walkways and paths.

  The aerial photos they’d reviewed showed a classic Spanish-style residence. Underneath a large porte cochere, the entry opened into a porchlike hall that provided access to the entire house. Basically, the residence was a two-hundred-foot square with a one-hundred-foot square interior courtyard. The courtyard held a pool, hot tub, and plush landscaping. The attached garage where they suspected the truck and sports car had come from was kitty-corner to their current approach vector, so they couldn’t see it.

  Even from this distance, the place looked huge—all thirty thousand square feet of it.

  Probably beautiful inside, Nathan thought. Cartel kingpins tended to spend their blood money extravagantly on themselves. Apparently Alisio didn’t like stairs—the mansion lacked a second floor, but it probably had a basement.

  “We’re looking good,” Vince said. “Okay, Sierra one, get ready to brake a little. We’re coming up on a curve in the road to the right.”

  “Copy.”

  Over the next three hundred yards, Vince coached their tail through several more turns as they descended from the ridge until the road found level ground and led them straight toward the house.

  “Okay, great job back there. Stay tight; it’s a straight shot from here. I’ll give you a ten-second warning as we approach the pavement.”

  Nathan felt his stomach churn again. They’d already been through a firefight and were about to do it again. He wasn’t sure why, but it felt more menacing this time. Clearing structures meant facing potential danger around every blind corner, piece of furniture, and closed door. Plus, the WMD grenades had yet to be located. First things first . . . they needed to get inside the residence undetected.

  Vince brought his TI up. “We’re looking good so far. I’m not seeing any warm signatures. Sandra, I want you to cut the phone line and locate any satellite dishes. Cutting their coaxial cables is best, but short of that, you’ll have to shoot their LNBs with your silenced pistol. After that, find the main breaker box to the house and stand by to cut power on my mark.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Tango two, what’s that sports car doing?”

  “It’s still parked on the main access road. I don’t have eyes on the driver. He’s still out in the brush.”

  “Sierra one, stand by back there. We’re coming up on the pavement and fence.”

  “We’re ready.”

  “You all set, Harv?” Nathan asked.

  “Good to go.”

  Nathan reached across the seat and clasped his friend’s hand. “We can do this.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Just ahead, Nathan saw the faint outline of an ornamental fence and gate—currently open. Huge illuminated palms seemed to grow out of the house’s roof, an illusion created by the courtyard within. The satellite imagery didn’t do this place justice. Nathan wanted to admire it, but this massive oasis, built with dirty money, reeked of human suffering.

  “Sierra one, begin braking,” Vince said. “Hit it hard in five seconds. Pile out and surround the place. Verify all your radios are on manual.”

  “Verified.”

  Nathan looked back and saw the sedan fade into the dust cloud. He wished them a silent good luck.

  Sandra made a slight right turn toward the house at the fork in the dirt road. Their ride jarred, then became smooth as the truck’s wheels found pavement. At a slow speed, they drove through the ornamental gate and followed the asphalt around the south side of the property. Alisio must have had a good water well because a vast expanse of lawn extended out from the house. Everything appeared verdant and manicured. Nathan kept expecting to see one or more dogs come bounding around the corner, but none appeared. He’d hate having to kill dogs, but he wouldn’t jeopardize his colleagues’ lives or the mission over them.

  Sandra said she spotted the transformer pole for the house. It sat just outside the ornamental fence on the access road coming in from the south. Power went underground from there.

  The attached garage came into view as they moved past a tall hedge. Two of the five garage doors were open, revealing empty slots. Probably where the pickup and sports car were kept.

  “The front of the house is around the next corner,” Vince said. “Get ready to engage.”

  When she rounded the corner, Sandra said, “Nice.”

  Sitting under the porte cochere, three huge limos dominated the circular driveway.

  “I seriously doubt those belong to El Lobo,” Vince said.

  “Let’s hope they’re Alisio’s,” Nathan said.

  This place looked like a high-end Hawaiian resort, right down to the landscape lighting. It never ceased to amaze him—the bewildering amount of money these scumbags made. He wondered if they felt any guilt at all. Probably not.

  “Keep going,” Vince said. “We’ve got company. Looks like hired muscle or bodyguards.”

  Two nicely dressed men with compact machine pistols slung over their shoulders stepped down from the flagstone entry steps. They weren’t acting suspicious or aggressive. As they discussed, Sandra killed the headlights.

  This is it, Nathan thought. The moment of truth.

  Apparently, all the gunfire and explosions from the compound weren’t out of the ordinary. Yes, the training compound was more than a mile and a half away, and all the grenade detonations had sounded like distant thumps from here, but judging from these two gunmen, even the huge barracks explosion hadn’t raised any undue suspicion—except maybe for its late hour. Their expressions reflecting boredom, the men fanned out, stopped walking, and stared like caged gorillas.

  Working in their favor, the dark tinting of the truck’s windows combined with the ambient landscaping light made the interior of the truck completely black.

  “Harvey, Nathan, left and right respectively,” Vince said. “Stand by to engage.”

  “We’re ready,” Nathan said.

  “Sandra, go a little farther.”

  If the men made any kind of hostile move, he’d be out the door and shooting before Vince could give the order.

  “Stand by . . . Now!”

  Twenty feet from the men, Sandra braked hard.

  Simultaneously, he and Harv jumped out.

  The bodyguards’ expressions changed at seeing the rear doors of the crew cab open. By the time they realized the threat, it was too late.

  He and Harv painted their lasers on the bodyguards’ faces before the men could unsling the
ir compact machine pistols.

  Two shots. Two kills. All in less than two seconds.

  Vincent got out. “Nathan, cover us. Harv, you’re with me. We’re going to move those bodies.”

  Nathan took a knee at the fender of the truck where he had a clear view of the front door. With Harv on his tail, Vince hurried over to the downed men.

  Sandra was out of the driver’s seat and on the move, sprinting toward the transformer pole on the south end of the fenced area. Telephone companies tended to use the same poles as the power companies. Once she reached the terminus pole, she should be able to sever the phone line at a point before it dropped into its underground conduit.

  Vince and Harv each grabbed a dead man by his coat collar and dragged him into the bushes lining the circular driveway.

  Nathan saw the front door hanging wide open, so he hustled up the steps and flattened himself against the stucco. On either side of the entry, three huge ferns sat in terracotta pots. He could see the entire covered area of the porte cochere from here. At his two o’clock position, approximately two hundred feet distant, he spotted the detached garage and a beautiful Bell 427 sitting on a sled on its helipad. The lighted wind sock indicated a slight westerly breeze. He wondered why the helicopter hadn’t been towed into its hangar.

  The muffled sound of a television came from within the house. He took a peek and saw all the way through to the huge lighted pool.

  This guy’s pool is bigger than most people’s houses.

  Just inside the door, beyond a classic sitting room, a glass-lined hallway offered two choices: left or right. He knew the right side led to the attached garage and south wing of the house. The left probably led to the kitchen, living room, and bedroom suites.

  “I’m at the terminus pole,” Sandra said. “I just cut the phone line.”

  “Good work,” Vince said. “Look for satellite dishes on the south-facing eave of the house and take them out. The main breaker’s probably in the garage. Proceed.”

  “I’m on it.”

  Nathan considered his options. If he and Harv entered here and went left or right at the main hallway, they’d be vulnerable from the other direction. Their job would be a whole lot easier with Vince covering their six.

  He pressed his transmit button. “Hotel three, can you—” Nathan heard footsteps inside the house. “Stand by,” he said in a whisper. “Someone’s coming toward the door.” Whoever it was wore hard-soled shoes and didn’t seem the least bit concerned about noise. The footfalls stopped, and Nathan held perfectly still. He caught only pieces of what was said, but heard two voices—both male, and neither of them sounded young.

  A second pair of footsteps approached, and this time he caught what was spoken in Spanish.

  “Hang on, Hector. E. L. wants me to go with you.”

  The footsteps began anew. Two sets this time. “At least those ISIS idiots stopped shooting,” one of the voices said. “Jose should be back by now.”

  “He really hates those clowns.”

  “He ain’t the only one.”

  Nathan heard their footfalls get louder as they rounded the corner of the main hallway and entered the sitting room.

  He hustled over to the potted ferns and ducked behind them.

  If the approaching men intended to check the black pickup truck, they’d have to walk directly past this spot.

  In slacks and white shirts, they stepped out the front door and looked toward the pickup. Like the others, they had compact machine pistols slung over their shoulders.

  “Jose, you out here?”

  The man got no answer.

  “Martin! Carlos! Where are you guys?”

  “They’re probably snorting blow in one of the limos.”

  “Well, go find their dumb asses.”

  “You go find them.”

  “Shit.”

  The bigger of the two men walked toward the limos.

  “Jose, you in there?”

  “Hotel one, hold position,” Vince said. “Let’s see what he does when he finds the limos empty.”

  Nathan clicked his radio and watched the man standing near the front door light a cigarette.

  The other bodyguard opened a limo door, cursed, and closed it. He circled the other two, rapping on the glass with his knuckles.

  Heading toward the pickup, the smoker started across the flagstone, but stopped at the steps and frowned. He crouched and stuck his index finger into a drop of blood, then rubbed it between his fingers.

  “We’re blown,” Nathan whispered. “My guy just found blood.”

  The smoker’s body language instantly changed for the worse.

  He spat out the cigarette, stood up straight, and unslung his machine pistol. Rather than call out to his comrade, the man made a beeline for the front door. Nathan had less than three seconds to acquire and shoot.

  Vince’s voice rang out in his earpiece, “Engage, engage!”

  Nathan activated the laser and lit up the back of the man’s head. This time his target’s finger wasn’t on the trigger. There would be no reflexive contraction, but if he didn’t make a single-kill shot, the man would go crashing into the sitting room, making noise, and spreading more blood.

  Nathan executed a perfect trigger pull.

  The bullet slammed into the back of the guard’s skull. With no real estate to spare, the bodyguard took a final step before doing a face-plant onto the welcome mat.

  Coming from Vince’s direction, three suppressed reports swept across the driveway. Then a fourth. He saw Vince dart out of the landscaping and sprint toward the limos.

  “Hotel one, the other bodyguard’s down,” Vince said. “I’m on him. Get ready to enter the house with Hotel two.”

  Harv materialized at the edge of the driveway and called out softly, “Drag him over here.”

  Nathan came up from his crouch and rushed to the downed man. Like Harv and Vince had done, he grabbed the man by his collar and hauled him across the flagstone. Some blood smeared along the way.

  He entered the ferns and laid the body next to the first two men they initially killed.

  Nathan pressed his transmit button—he wanted Vince to hear it. “El Lobo’s in there for sure. I heard these guys refer to him as E. L.”

  “Copy,” Vince said. “Stand by; I’m concealing this fourth body.”

  “What do you think?” Nathan asked Harv off the comm net.

  “I hope Alisio’s in there.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  Harv didn’t say anything.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not planning to kill him on sight.”

  “Tempted?”

  “Yes.”

  “Me too,” Harv said. “But Benson needs him to trace the WMDs. Killing him could end up costing lots of lives.”

  “Agreed.”

  “I think we’re facing at least one more bad guy, not including any personal security El Lobo might have beyond Quattro. In any case, we’ve got less than a minute before they start missing their friends.”

  “Then let’s get in there before they figure it out.” Nathan keyed his radio. “Hotel three, we’re ready to enter the house.”

  “Stand by, ten seconds.”

  Tango two’s voice cut in. “The driver’s returning to the sports car . . . He’s carrying something . . . It looks like a small suitcase or backpack.”

  “That might be our WMDs,” Vince said. “If that sports car doesn’t turn around and head back to the ranch house, I’m going after him. What’s he doing?”

  “Stand by . . . He’s turning the car around . . . Okay, he’s heading back to the ranch house.”

  Nathan wondered how Vince would respond to this development. There was no way to know what the guy had retrieved from the desert. It could be anything. Gold. Jewels. Cash. Bonds. Or their WMD grenades.

  Tango two came back up on the net. “A vehicle just turned toward the ranch house from the road leading to the smuggling center. It’s going a little faster than the sports car
. I can’t determine the type of vehicle yet.”

  Vince said, “Confirm there are two vehicles heading toward the ranch house?”

  “Confirm. It looks like the second vehicle will catch the sports car in about thirty seconds.”

  “Copy. Tango one, where are you?”

  “I’m about to enter the garage. I rigged a radio-controlled charge on the conduit running down the terminus pole in the event I can’t locate the breaker box. I’ll set it off on your command.”

  “Good thinking, Tango one. I’m on the two arriving vehicles. Proceed into the garage, try to locate the breaker box, and stand by. All other members, maintain your positions on the perimeter. Hotel four, update command on our situation. Let them know El Lobo’s inside the ranch house, possibly Alisio as well. Tango two, I want to know every move those vehicles make. Verbal copies.”

  The team members copied.

  “The arrival of the second vehicle seems suspect,” Harv said. “Its timing doesn’t seem like a coincidence.”

  “What do we know at this point, Harv? About five minutes ago, a sports car left the house and drove out the main access road. Its driver stops along the way and seemingly digs up something from a remote area of the ranch. He returns to the sports car with something other than a shovel, and at the same time, a second vehicle is approaching from the smuggling center. What do you make of it?”

  “It’s hard to say, but the two vehicles being in motion at the same time doesn’t feel like a coincidence. Whoever’s inside the house is definitely expecting to hear back from the pickup’s driver by now, not to mention the extra men they sent outside. I’d say we have under a minute left before things turn to shit.”

  He was about to respond when Vince’s voice broke in.

  “Hotels one and two, begin sweeping the house. Maintain stealth as long as possible. You’ll be giving Tango one the command to cut power at the breaker box or detonate the charge on the terminus pole. Obviously, the later you give the order, the better. We’re still undetected, but depending on who’s in the approaching vehicles, it might get loud out here. Tango two, ETA on the vehicles?”

  “Three or four minutes, max.”