“Besides the door leading to the showroom, we’ve got two doors to check on the left. Kilo Three, you’re on my six. Lineup formation.” Normally he’d ask Harv to cover him, but he wanted LG involved.
LG stepped forward, put a hand on Nathan’s back, and gave him a nudge—the signal she was ready to go. Moving down the corridor like a single unit, they stopped at the first door. Nathan put everyone on hold again and listened for sound.
Nothing.
The lack of visible hinges indicated the door would swing away from him. He turned the knob and slowly pushed. A pitch-black room loomed. The smell of cleaning chemicals wafted. Not wanting to deploy his NV scope yet, he grabbed a small penlight from his waist pack and confirmed this was a janitor’s closet, a big one. Everything needed to clean the building and detail the cars was neatly arranged in here.
The next door was a bathroom. Nathan had hoped it would be a stairwell. No such luck. That meant they had to enter the showroom, and it looked like a supernova loomed behind the door. “Kilo Two, check for seams along the walls. Let’s make sure there aren’t any hidden doors.”
Harv reported finding no seams.
“Kilo Two, you’re on the exit door. I’m going to take a look in the showroom. Kilo Three, you’re still with me.”
The door was unlocked and Nathan cracked it less than an inch. Squinting, he surveyed the room. A large open space full of classic cars loomed. It looked to be about seventy-five feet deep and a hundred and fifty feet long. Identical to the floor-to-ceiling truss along the glass front, a second truss bisected the showroom along its short axis, but stopped short of the exterior walls to allow the cars to move across the room. The trusses were painted bright red. Again, he marveled at the engineering but hated what this place represented.
Most of the cars were European from the mid- to late-twentieth century—lots of color and chrome. They were arranged in three rows along the long axis of the showroom. Just as Delta Lead had indicated, sales offices lined the south wall. He couldn’t see the elevator, but he did see two cameras overlooking the center of the showroom. They hung above the glass façade on the opposite side of the room. The closest row of vehicles sat ten feet away. He gave a brief description of what he saw to Harv and LG.
An idea came to him.
“Kilo team, if we stay low, I think we can avoid the cameras on the far side of the room, but I need to see what’s on the wall above this door. If there are motion sensors, they were probably turned off for the guys with the briefcases. They might’ve been reactivated. The cameras are likely in continuous operation, shooting stills every few seconds until activated into video mode.”
Harv said, “Look for a security keypad next to the door.”
“I will. Delta Lead, do you still have eyes on the showroom floor?”
“Affirm. We’ll take a look for a keypad. Stand by, we’re repositioning our street asset to a different vantage point.”
Nathan opened the door ultra-slowly until he could fit his hand through. He pulled a mirror from his waist pack and used it to scan the wall above his head and on either side of the door. As far as he could see, there were no cameras, motion detectors, or a keypad. It made sense, especially if illegal activity were taking place. Cameras and criminals didn’t mix well.
“I’m taking a better look.” He opened the door wider and peered in the direction the men with the briefcases had gone. He knew the elevator was down there, but he couldn’t see it. The walls were adorned with huge photographs of classic cars, just like the models in the showroom. Each car had a generous amount of space surrounding it to allow customers ample room to circle their potential wares.
Nathan pulled back into the exit corridor. “What are the odds that someone’s monitoring live feeds on a bank of TVs? Either in this building or somewhere else?”
“I’d say slim to none,” Harv offered. “This isn’t a Vegas casino. If this is a criminal enterprise, as our friend suspects, those men with briefcases won’t want to be recorded. I seriously doubt they’re here to conduct legitimate business, unless they’re doing it in a different time zone.”
“Kilo team, our street asset is back online. We located two keypunches. One is next to the elevator, the other’s next to the door near the elevator, presumably to unlock access to a stairwell. Other than those, we aren’t detecting any other security keypads.”
“Copy, Delta Lead. I’m going to walk over to the elevators and see what happens.”
“We’ll be monitoring your progress. We have eyes on the elevator’s lights. It’s currently on the third floor; if it moves we’ll let you know.”
Nathan turned toward Harv and Linda. “I might be coming back in a big hurry so be ready to engage.” He sensed LG liked that idea. “If this place erupts with blaring alarms, we’ll have to assume the Santa Monica Police Department will be dispatched. No doubt, the security company relays triggered alarms to the police. Here goes . . .”
Feeling like a party crasher, he stepped into the showroom floor, took a few steps to his left, and stopped. If motion sensors were present and active, they should’ve picked him up and triggered the alarm system. It didn’t make sense for a place like this to employ silent alarms.
So far, so good. Willing himself to be invisible, he began a normal walk toward the southeast corner. As a Marine scout sniper and CIA special-operations-group officer, Nathan had survived by being stealthy. This felt like anti-stealth.
Since no additional lights came on, or any security sirens blared, he began to believe the system was in standby mode. Again, it made sense. Nathan doubted those briefcases held—
“Kilo One, you’ve got company. The elevator’s on the way down.”
The icy calmness of the metallic voice sent a shiver across Nathan’s chest.
Decision time. Fight or flee?
“Kilos Two and Three, hold position and stand by.”
He diverted to his right and ducked behind a classic Bentley, his mind working overtime. How many people did an average elevator hold? Ten? Fifteen? In a building this size, he doubted there would be that many. It probably held five to seven. Would they burst out with guns drawn? And why use the elevator? Why not the stairs? The elevator gave their approach away. Something felt wrong. Could the elevator simply be returning to the ground floor after a pre-programmed delay? If so, its doors wouldn’t open. The elevator would simply go into standby mode.
The truth was almost upon him.
He watched the lighted numbers change from three to two. He didn’t think it would stop there and it didn’t.
Number two went dark and number one came to life.
He’d have to hold fire until he was certain Tomas or Ursula weren’t present, but if multiple gun-toting thugs spilled into the showroom, he’d start shooting.
“Kilo team, five seconds.”
Despite the tension, a smile touched his lips. Screw Cornejo and his billions.
This place belonged to a first-class turd. Nathan didn’t care about the Venezuelan election, the price of crude oil, or entitlement spending.
All he cared about was right here and right now.
He left his laser dark and increased pressure on the trigger.
The elevator issued a pleasant chime and its single door slid open.
A man exited and turned right. Nathan recognized him as the third man the surveillance team had recorded entering the fire exit door: Bravo Three. He was empty-handed.
It was clear this guy had no clue Nathan was in the room. The man walked straight toward the exit corridor where LG and Harv were holed up. Was he leaving?
Decision time again.
For several tactical reasons, Nathan chose to let Harv and LG deal with this.
“Bravo Three’s heading for your location. Close the door quietly and back up a few feet. He’s empty-handed. No visible weapons. Copy?”
“Affirm,” came Harv’s whisper in his earpiece. “We’re ready.”
“We need intel.”
/> “Understood.”
“Delta Lead, maintain eyes on elevator. I’ll be returning to the exit corridor.”
“Copy.”
“Kilo Two, five seconds.”
Dressed in a white dress shirt, nice slacks, and wing tips, it looked like this guy could buy any car in this room. Lots of gold adorned his fingers and neck. Latino and slightly overweight, he appeared to be in his mid-fifties. He didn’t look formidable, but looks could be deceiving. Nathan saw an expensive watch and a wedding ring. Does your wife know where you are?
The man looked at the cars as he walked. Nathan couldn’t blame him, it was hard not to.
Bravo Three reached for the knob and, without hesitating, stepped into the corridor.
Nathan heard an inhalation, a rustle of clothes, then a grunt of pain.
Harv’s low voice came next. “We aren’t going to hurt you if you cooperate. Please nod your head if you understand what I just said.” They’d once made a mistake in a situation nearly identical to this one. They’d captured a man who hadn’t spoken a word of English. Assumption tended to be the mother of all screw-ups.
Nathan walked at a medium pace toward the door as Harv wasted no time questioning their captive.
“Were you planning to leave or come back?”
“Who are you?” the man asked. “Do you know who owns this place?”
Halfway to the exit door, Nathan heard a louder grunt.
“We’re asking the questions. You have three seconds before I dislocate your shoulder. Answering my questions will be much more difficult after that.”
“My car! I’m just going out to my car.”
Nathan entered the exit corridor and left the door partially open.
Upon seeing Nathan’s sheer size and bulk, the man’s mouth dropped slightly, but he recovered.
“Why were you going out to your car?” Harv asked.
“Cubans, I forgot the Cubans.”
“Cigars.”
“Good ones. You can have ’em.”
“So if we escorted you out there, we’d find cigars?”
“Yeah, man, I swear.”
“What was in your briefcase?”
The man closed his mouth.
“We saw you carry it in here. What was in it?” Harv asked again.
Again, the man didn’t answer.
“Torque his shoulder out of the socket,” Nathan said. “Not too rough, we don’t want him passing out.”
Keeping the guy’s arm pinned behind his back, Harv began applying upward pressure.
The man’s face contorted. “Wait! It’s cash. We all bring cash for the game.”
“What game?”
“Texas hold ’em.”
“Is Tomas Bustamonte up there?”
“You mean Mr. B? I didn’t know his first name. Everyone just calls him Mr. B. He got a call and had to leave the table.”
“How long ago did he get the call?”
“I don’t know, maybe a minute ago. He asked me to get the Cubans but I had to take a leak first.”
“You said you forgot them.”
“I did, I mean, he wanted to get them after the hand—”
Nathan’s earpiece came to life. “Okay, okay. Now, shut up. Repeat, Delta Lead.”
“We’ve got activity. Two SUVs just turned into the east alley from Olympic and the elevator’s on the move, it’s going up.”
“What are the SUVs doing? Are they stopping?”
“Affirmative . . . Six armed men just got out and they’re heading for the door. You’re blown.”
“You two, take cover behind the cars. Close the door behind you.”
“Nate—”
“Go!” Nathan said. He belted the gambler’s jaw, instantly dropping the guy. Two seconds later, he heard the keypunch being stabbed as Harv and LG disappeared into the showroom. Leaving the unconscious man in the hall, he ducked into the pitch-black bathroom as the door to the alley swung open.
CHAPTER 16
Had he been fast enough? He wasn’t sure. He wanted to close and lock the door, but it was too late. He lowered his safety goggles to his neck, pivoted his NV scope down in front of his eye, and powered it.
“Delta Lead, report,” he whispered.
“The first gunman is looking through the door. He just gestured for two of the men to circle the building in opposite directions. They’re in motion. The first of two gunmen is now entering the corridor; the other two are waiting in the alley. They’re carrying suppressed Mac-10s with fifty-round mags or better.”
“Do they have night vision?”
“Negative.”
“Going silent.”
His radio clicked.
Harv’s going to kill me for doing this, he thought. If I live through it . . .
He listened for sound but heard nothing except Harv and Linda working out their positioning in the showroom.
Nathan’s mind kicked into high gear. He possessed an uncanny ability to size up tactical situations. Within two seconds, he’d weighed the positives and negatives.
Negatives: These newcomers weren’t loud and sloppy. They possessed formidable firepower. He was outnumbered four to one. And he was effectively trapped inside a small room with no exit.
Positives: He had night vision. They didn’t know he was in this room—and they’d never expect anyone to be stupid enough to trap himself in a small room with no exit. They’d also be momentarily distracted by the unconscious man in the hall, and they’d be confined in a tight, narrow space.
No problem. He owned this.
He heard slow, steady footfalls, then a door being opened. His night-vision scope automatically dimmed at the sudden surge of light as the gunman flipped the switch inside the janitor’s closet. A second later, the light winked out.
His door would be next.
He needed an update from Delta Lead but didn’t want to risk being overheard, even whispering. Come on, Harv. Now would be a good time.
Right on cue, Harv’s voice came through his ear speaker. “Delta Lead, report.”
Nathan cranked the radio’s volume to its lowest setting.
“Two have entered the corridor, two have circled the building in opposite directions, and the other two are watching the door from the cover of their SUVs.”
Nathan knew he was facing two immediate threats rather than four. He liked those odds a lot better, and it changed how he’d deal with it. Waiting like a trapdoor spider, he watched the bathroom door for movement.
His wait wasn’t long.
In slow motion, it began easing toward his face.
Harvey didn’t like leaving Nathan behind but didn’t question his orders.
Dividing their forces held some risk, but at times like this, his trust in Nate’s tactical decisions was absolute. Inside the showroom, he told LG to go right while he went left, toward the elevator.
Playing a hunch, he had LG relocate to a position directly in front of the door so she could fire down the length of the corridor. He knew Nate had copied his transmission. “Kilo One, confirm you’re in the bathroom.”
Harvey heard Nate’s click.
He’d listened to the radio traffic between Delta Lead and Nate and knew he needed to become Nate’s voice. “Delta Lead, report.”
The answer confirmed what he suspected. Two of the gunmen remained outside in the alley.
“The elevator’s going up.”
“Copy, Delta Lead. Kilo Three, stay here and cover the exit corridor. I’m relocating to a position closer to the elevator.”
The third-floor light was now illuminated. It wouldn’t be long before the elevator started back down.
Delta Lead hadn’t reported seeing anyone enter the building prior to the briefcase crew, but Harvey knew there was at least one additional man in the building—the guy who’d accepted the pizzas. Regardless, this situation smelled like a trap. It was entirely possible someone in Bustamonte’s employ had seen the three of them move across the neighboring building’s r
oof and descend into the alley. Cantrell didn’t have the resources to put eyes on the entire neighborhood, especially on such short notice.
None of that mattered right now. His job was to cover Nate’s blind side, basically everything inside this showroom.
He hurried toward the elevator, weaving his way through the maze of automobiles. He’d made it about halfway when Delta Lead gave them another update.
One of the gunmen who’d separated from the group would soon be in a position where he could see inside the showroom from Olympic. The other gunman who’d circled the building in the opposite direction had a substantially longer distance to cover before he’d reach the main entrance on the west side.
He whispered to LG, “We’re in a shoot-to-kill situation unless it’s one of the twins. No wounding shots. Copy?”
“Loud and clear.”
“Do you have eyes on the Olympic gunman yet?”
“Negative.”
“From this point on, stay low and remain focused on the exit corridor.”
“I’m on it.”
“Delta Lead, you’re our eyes on the Olympic gunman.”
“We’ve got him. Ten seconds.”
Harvey watched the lights above the elevator change from three to two.
He pictured Nate alone in that pitch-black corridor, facing multiple gunmen armed with some of the most proven machine pistols ever made. Harv knew the Mac-10 well; he had one in his private collection.
Number two went dark.
Number one illuminated.
With a telling chime, the elevator announced its arrival.
Nathan watched the door move toward him. There was something menacing about a slowly moving door with an enemy combatant behind it.
He flipped his mental switch, severing all doubt.
Bullets were going to fly.
People were going to die.
He placed his boot where it would block the door from opening more than eight inches.
The door struck his foot.
As predicted, the gunman retracted the door and tried again, this time with more force. Again, it struck his foot.
Nathan’s night-vision scope gave him a good view of the intruder’s reflection in the mirror.
Right to Kill Page 13
