Contract to Kill

by Andrew Peterson

  “I’m confirming Lyons just switched to the M4,” Harv said.

  “Harv, once an unsuppressed shot rings out or she uses the launcher, take her down quickly. Grangeland, what are Mason’s vehicles doing? Are they still coming up the road?”

  “Yes.”

  Harv cut in. “Lyons just loaded the grenade launcher. The rounds are in her belly pack.”

  “I doubt she’ll target Alisio’s vehicles yet. She doesn’t know which one has the money. Are you at the rim?”

  “Sixty seconds. It’s slow going. I’m still in Lyons’s cone of vision. If she swings her rifle scope toward me, it might be the last thing I’ll ever see.”

  Grangeland cut in. “Sorry to interrupt, but Mason and Hahn just went through the gate. Both vehicles.”

  “Copy. One of the South Koreans opened the back of an SUV. I can’t see it from my angle, but I suspect the duffel bags are in there. Alisio’s checking it out. Stand by . . . we might have trouble. One of his men is looking at the rim through field glasses and talking on a radio. Harv, hold position and get a bead on Lyons. If I have to start shooting down here, drop her right away. I don’t want to end up on the business end of that M203.”

  “Copy.”

  “The sedan stopped,” Grangeland said. “Someone’s getting out. He’s not big enough to be Mason. Gotta be Hahn. He’s getting in the SUV. He left the sedan blocking the road.”

  “Can a vehicle get past it?”

  “No.”

  “Weapons?”

  “Hahn’s carrying an M4 with a big sight, but it doesn’t have a launcher. He’s wearing desert camo with a backpack and belly pack.”

  “Keep eyes on Mason’s SUV. If they keep going at their present pace, when will they reach the pit?”

  “Thirty seconds, maybe a little more.”

  “Will you make your SP before they reach the pit?”

  “I think so. It’ll be close.”

  “Don’t shoot until you have solid cover. Get into a prone position. If you have to, stack some rocks in front of you. Check for ants before you lie down. Copy?”

  “Copy.”

  Harv cut in. “Nate, can you hear Mason’s SUV?”

  “Not yet. The South Koreans are unloading the duffel bags. They’re also setting up a small folding table and a chair. It’s partially blocked from my line of sight.”

  “To examine the diamonds and coins,” Harv said.

  “Alisio’s walking over to his SUV. He grabbed a briefcase; it probably holds the two million in cash. He’s looking at his man, the one who tried to contact his lookout. Everyone give me a short interval of radio silence. I want to hear what he’s saying.”

  Nathan spoke fluent Spanish and couldn’t miss what Alisio yelled up to the rim.

  “Julio! Where the fuck are you?” The crime boss cursed again and ordered one of his men to hustle up there and find “Julio’s dumb ass.”

  The South Koreans suddenly looked edgy, eyeing the rim, then their vehicles. Alisio assured them everything was okay. He told them his lookout was probably scouting the area up there and couldn’t hear him.

  They exchanged a few more words, and one of the South Korean gunmen joined Alisio’s man. Together, they began a jog around the perimeter of the lake toward the switchbacks.

  There were now seventeen gunmen left in the pit.

  “Harv, two gunmen are heading for the switchbacks. One of them has an MP5; the other’s got an AK. How close is Lyons to the rim? Will she be able to see them once they start up?”

  “Yes, she’s several feet from the edge behind a large creosote bush, but she can see the pit and the switchbacks for sure.”

  “If she relocates for any reason, use the opportunity to advance. I need you on the rim.”

  “Will do. Those guys are going to find Alisio’s dead lookout. They can’t miss him.”

  “Mason’s SUV just stopped,” Grangeland said. “Hahn got out . . . he’s running up the mountain to the north.”

  “Grangeland, your responsibility is now Hahn. Keep track of him at all costs. We absolutely need to know where he sets up his SP. Expect him to make a left turn and head for section eight or nine on the rim. If Mason’s SUV stops again, let me know.”

  “Okay, I’m back at my original SP. Shit, my phone just vibrated,” she said.

  “Ignore it and stay on Hahn.”

  “Mine too,” Harv said.

  “Leave them in your pockets. Harv, stay on Lyons. Will Hahn be in your line of sight once he makes his move toward the rim?”

  “Affirm. He’ll be on fairly open ground.”

  “Mason slowed to a crawl. I don’t hear the crunch of his tires,” Grangeland said.

  “Harv?”

  “I don’t hear it either.”

  “The two men are at the bottom of the switchbacks. They’re starting up in a jog. Alisio put his briefcase on the table. Grangeland, be ready to drop Hahn simultaneously with Harv dropping Lyons. Will you be able to track Hahn’s progress all the way to the rim?”

  “Yes.”

  Nathan eased forward a little to give himself a better field of view. He couldn’t see the mouth of the road, but everything else was visible. He had to be careful. One of the truss braces of the conveyor went diagonally through his shooting lane.

  “Grangeland, keep your field glasses handy and switch to the M1A’s optical. For reference purposes, there are five SUVs in the pit. Alisio’s three are parked near the office, and the two ROK vehicles are closer to the prefab.”

  Grangeland and Harv copied.

  “Mason stopped, but he’s not getting out,” Grangeland said.

  “How far from the mouth of the pit? Is his SUV blocking the road at that spot?”

  “One hundred yards, and yes.”

  “Harv, can you see that?”

  “No, I’m not close enough to the rim to see over the edge, and I’ve got no cover directly ahead. Lyons saw the two guys run over to the switchback, so she’s sighting in on section one at the switchback’s upper terminus.”

  “Grangeland, do you have frontal cover?”

  “If I move some big rocks.”

  “Make it quick and watch for scorpions. Their sting isn’t fatal, but you’ll wish it was.”

  “I’ll be careful.”

  “Harv, those two guys are halfway up the switchbacks. Does Lyons still have the M4 shouldered?”

  “Yes, and I can see Hahn now. He made his turn west, toward section nine.”

  “Copy.” He needed to say something to Grangeland and couldn’t worry if she’d be insulted or not. “Listen up, Grangeland. You already know this, but I’m saying it anyway. Take a few deep breaths and settle your nerves. I want you smooth on that trigger. We’re saving lives by taking lives, that’s how you get through it.”

  “You guys used to do this for a living?”

  “Shoot center mass; don’t attempt head shots. Your wind and elevation are dialed in. In about fifteen seconds, those two guys hustling up the switchbacks are going to discover the body, at which point Lyons will likely drop them. What’s Mason doing?”

  “Nothing, his SUV’s just sitting—”

  Harv cut into Grangeland’s transmission. “Lyons just aimed her M4 into the pit!”

  CHAPTER 36

  Nathan heard the unmistakable thunk of Lyons’s grenade launcher. He took a deep breath and lowered his head. If she’d fired an antipersonnel round, he didn’t want to take a piece of it. He was about to order Harv to drop her, but no loud explosion rocked the pit; it was more like a muted pop.

  A second thunk reverberated through the pit, followed by another pop.

  Nathan saw yellow smoke belching. Lyons had fired two smoke rounds into the pit near the parked SUVs. Everyone in the pit froze for several seconds.

  Grangeland said, �
�Mason’s SUV is on the move! He’s racing toward the pit.”

  “Stand by, Grangeland. You’re still on Hahn. Switch to thermal mode.”

  “Copy, switching to thermal.”

  “Lyons has a bead on the two men,” Harv said. “They stopped running. They’re staring at the smoke. She’s going to nail them.”

  “Let her,” Nathan said. “Take her down after she shoots them.”

  Two quick rifle reports crackled around the rock walls. Still using field glasses, Nathan looked toward the top of the switchbacks and saw the men go down.

  All of the gunmen in the pit were now scrambling for cover in every direction. Alisio barked orders, but it was every man for himself. Some of the gunmen ran toward their vehicles; others bolted for the buildings.

  Another pop rang out, and Nathan couldn’t place the source. He swept the rim and saw white smoke at section thirty. Had Lyons’s grenade launcher malfunctioned?

  Harv said, “Lyons just popped smoke up here. I lost eyes on her!”

  Shit! He should’ve anticipated that. Identical to his own, Harv’s scope didn’t have thermal capacity—only Grangeland had TI mode. “Harv, use the opportunity to advance to the rim and find cover. Everyone is scrambling down here. Get eyes on Lyons when she fires again and drop her.”

  “Copy that,” Harv said. “Grangeland, give section thirty a quick look with your thermal.”

  Nathan watched Alisio pull his handgun and bolt for the closest building. “Alisio and five of his men just ducked into the office. Some of the South Koreans are beelining for their SUVs. Grangeland, can you see Lyons?”

  “No.”

  “Where’s Mason’s SUV?”

  “It’s still racing up the road.”

  From the windows of the buildings, bursts of automatic fire crackled. Nathan saw the stroboscopic effect of the discharges illuminate the ground. Alisio’s men were firing at the cloud of white smoke on the rim. Dozens of bullet impacts peppered the wall, some of them creating sparks.

  “Grangeland, on my mark, stand by to open fire on Mason’s vehicle when it reaches the flat area at the pit. Your AP rounds will penetrate the sheet metal. Shoot out its tires. Keep pouring it on until I give you new orders.”

  “Copy that. What about Hahn?”

  “Harv’s got him for now.”

  Nathan watched five South Koreans rush toward their vehicles. Their leader yelled something in Korean, seemingly a reprimand because none of them had grabbed the briefcase.

  One of them made a mad dash back to the folding table, and it saved his life.

  Nathan didn’t hear the thunk of Lyons’s grenade launcher, but the South Korean SUV, where the other men had huddled, exploded. Smoking parts arced through the air. Two men screamed and rolled away from the ruined vehicle, clearly wounded. Two seconds later, the second ROK vehicle exploded. Nathan saw the glow of fire begin inside its destroyed interior. Clutching his leg, a third South Korean fell to the ground. Three of the eight South Koreans were now out of the fight.

  The ROK gunman who’d run back toward the folding table to retrieve the loot changed his mind and scrambled toward the prefab.

  Alisio was yelling, but Nathan couldn’t tell what he said.

  “I’ve got Lyons!” said Harv.

  “Drop her.”

  Nathan waited for Harv’s shot, but it didn’t come.

  “Shit. She popped more smoke just before she fired. I lost her again.”

  Nathan saw a second cloud forming up on the rim. “Grangeland, where’s Mason?”

  “He’s seconds out. The smoke is still pretty thick in the pit, but I can see bodies on the ground. Most of Alisio’s men are in the office. The South Koreans are running toward the prefab. Several others are crouching behind an intact SUV. Wait, they just bolted for the prefab.”

  Alisio’s gunmen continued firing from the office. The roars of their automatics sounded like crackling thunderclaps. Just before they disappeared behind the smoke screen, the wounded ROK gunmen cried out in anger as some of Alisio’s men walked their machine-gun bursts over their prone forms. Alisio’s men either suspected the ROK gunmen were part of the raid, or they were confused and didn’t know who was who.

  “Harv, can Hahn see the conveyor from his position? He’s on the rim directly behind me, concur?”

  “Yes, he can definitely see the conveyor.”

  “Grangeland, change in plan. On my mark, open fire on Hahn’s position. Keep laying it on until I tell you to stop. Don’t fire too quickly, just a bullet every two seconds or so. Stay in thermal mode. Copy?”

  “Copy, but I don’t have a clear shot at him; he’s between two large boulders.”

  “Do your best to keep him pinned. Try for a cornering shot off the rock face behind him.”

  “Standing by,” she said.

  “Harv, be ready to nail Lyons. I’m dropping Mason as soon as I get eyes on him.”

  Chaos reigned in the pit, made worse by the dust and smoke obscuring everyone’s vision. The echo of gunfire kept rattling around the rock ledges in random intervals. Both vehicles Lyons had destroyed were now burning, creating twin columns of black smoke that twisted into one.

  “Still no sign of Lyons,” Harv reported.

  Nathan steeled himself. If he took a bullet within the next few minutes, he hoped it would find his vest. He didn’t like how he’d left things with Holly and didn’t want to die without reconciling with her. He forced the thought aside; hopefully he could ponder the virtues of regret later.

  “Grangeland, open fire on Hahn’s position!”

  Mason consciously loosened his left-hand grip on the steering wheel. The other hand held his M4, currently aimed out the passenger window. From the sound of things, Darla had done a great job disabling the vehicles up ahead. Alisio should be pissing his pants by now. He pressed the gas harder and endured the teeth-chipping ruts and bumps.

  Mason heard a steady pounding of individual rifle reports at the same time his earpiece crackled to life.

  “I’m taking fire!” Hahn yelled.

  “Darla, can you see the shooter?”

  “Affirm, it’s coming from the south side of the canyon above the access road. I’m seeing muzzle flashes, but the shooter’s out of my range.”

  “Chip, do you have cover?”

  “Yeah, barely. Shit!”

  “Stay down. I’ll try to take out the shooter. Darla, am I in that shooter’s line of sight?”

  “Yes.”

  “Empty a magazine into the cinder block building where Alisio’s holed up, and take out those remaining vehicles. Any sign of more shooters?”

  “No.”

  Mason began swerving back and forth along the narrow road as best he could, but if he wasn’t careful, he’d end up stuck in the ditch.

  “Relocate after your shot, be ready to—”

  Darla interrupted him. “Someone just came out from under the collapsed conveyor. He’s running toward its south end where you’re coming in.”

  So there were two new players now, and maybe more than that. One was firing at Hahn from above and behind him, and the other was in the pit. He had no idea if they were with Alisio, the South Koreans, or independent. It didn’t matter. They had to be neutralized. Unfortunately, shooting a man in full sprint was tough. Given Darla’s skill level and the distance, she had little chance of nailing the guy. “Pin that runner down with the 203, then try to nail him when he stops. What’s he carrying?”

  “A sniper rifle and a sidearm.”

  “Send an HE round, now!”

  Mason kept weaving his car from side to side as he approached the mouth of the pit. If Darla didn’t kill that sniper running along the conveyor, this raid might be over. He already had to contend with Alisio’s machine guns and couldn’t risk the added worry of facing a shooter. From his tours in Afg
hanistan, he knew how deadly they could be.

  Another explosion came from the pit—Darla’s grenade launcher.

  He listened for the follow-up report of her rifle, but there were too many other gunshots and machine-gun bursts to hear it.

  A bullet penetrated the top of his SUV and tore through the passenger seat. “I’m taking fire! How about you, Chip?”

  “The shooting stopped for the moment. I’d better relocate.”

  “Do it. And take out the shooter who tried to nail you.”

  Nathan slung his Remington across his chest, scrambled backward from his hiding place, and shit . . . banged his head on a brace. Fortunately the metallic bong couldn’t be heard over the sounds of war. Irritated at himself, he crawled out from the hollow space and hoped Hahn wasn’t crazy enough to attempt a shot while taking constant fire from Grangeland.

  Lyons was a different matter. “Harv, stand by to reacquire Lyons. I doubt she’s finished with that grenade launcher. Watch for the flash. Grangeland, keep firing on Hahn’s position.”

  Like a distant metronome, Grangeland’s rifle boomed every two seconds. Some of the South Koreans were shooting toward Grangeland’s position, but their subcompacts were useless at that range.

  By her fifth shot, Nathan had his Sig in his hand and sprinted in a crouch toward the south end of the conveyor. He needed to get eyes on Mason before the reverse happened. He also needed to alternate his forward speed. If Lyons had a bead on him, he didn’t want to be a predictable target.

  He stopped running and took a knee.

  Good thing. Thirty feet in front of him, the conveyor exploded.

  The concussive blast and white flash of the detonation overloaded his senses. Disoriented and stunned, he fell forward to his hands and nearly vomited. He didn’t feel any wounds, but knew it could take a few seconds for shock to wear off. Instinctively, he reversed direction, crawling quickly to avoid remaining a stationary target.

  The ground in front of him erupted with the supersonic crack of an arriving bullet.

  His chin and lip took fragments, but the wounds didn’t feel too bad. Were it not for his protective goggles, he’d have two eyes full of dirt, pulverized rock, and shredded copper. Blood began to ooze over his lips and the familiar taste of his own blood was back—again.