The helicopter was still parked at the far eastern side of the compound. Three men stood next to it, also heavily armed and facing the compound. Steel guessed they were Dima’s men, because they were dressed more professionally with camo gear and headsets.
Dima stood near the middle of Lucian’s guards, facing the front gate, a Glock in his hand. Four men stood atop the tower just east of the front gate, all holding machine guns.
The dirt road leading into the compound was lit up by spotlights a hundred feet north of the gate. No cars appeared. Vans and SUVs were parked outside the open garage, with a few armed men standing among them. Lucian was ready for a war.
Steel also spotted the large van Lucian had originally picked him up in. The front end of it was barely visible sticking out of the garage. Steel worried about the drones. With just two armored drones Lucian had the equivalent of a half-dozen armed men.
The guard in front of Steel waved him forward to an open space in the center of the line of armed men.
As Steel walked with Matt, the line shifted farther apart so that no men with weapons stood within a dozen feet of him.
“Stop.” The guard held up his palm to Steel when they reached the line.
Steel waited, with Matt still using him for balance.
Twelve feet to the right of Matt, Lucian stood beside Dima. He still held Therese around the neck, his gun to her head. He finally released her, and she stood beside him.
“Now we wait,” said Lucian.
Steel was beginning to feel that whatever his team was bringing, it wouldn’t be enough to handle Lucian’s preparations. He couldn’t even attempt an attack on Lucian—the man would kill Therese immediately. And if he tried to reach the guard to the left of him, even if his hands were free, other guards would gun him down with ease.
Steel guessed that Dima and Lucian had no intention of releasing him, Matt, and Therese.
Stay calm, assess options, look for solutions. He tried to apply his motto, but he didn’t think the angels Christie had mentioned could deal with what he saw before him.
CHAPTER 39
Christie suppressed her concerns by replaying in her mind her role in the exchange. Steel had taught her that by repeating your actions in your mind, it made it easier to perform them when the time came. Olympic athletes did it. But athletes didn’t have their lives and the lives of loved ones on the line.
Angel drove in silence.
Lucian’s inspector sat quietly, the briefcase between him and Christie. Christie kept her silenced SIG in his side. When they drove through the intersection, the lights of the compound appeared in the distance. Closer to the compound front gate, tall poles with lights illuminated the road. The compound gate was closed.
When they reached the light, a guard slid the gate open and Lucian’s van drove through. However Angel stopped fifty yards away. Christie leaned forward. The compound was loaded with armed men. She sat back in dismay. Lucian had dozens of guards. She had to brace herself.
“Angel?” she said quietly.
“It is as expected.” Angel put the car in park.
“I repeat, if you kill me, you’ll all die.” Lucian’s inspector sounded confident.
“Good to know.” Christie shoved her SIG harder into his ribs. “Now shut up. You speak again, especially when we’re inside the gate, and I’m putting a bullet in you.”
The man didn’t look at her. “You’re fools.”
“Perhaps,” said Angel. “It’s time.” He slowly drove forward.
CLAY HEARD ANGEL’S code words, “It’s time.” He readied himself. “Prizrak?”
“My headlights are off,” she responded on coms. “I’m a quarter-mile north of the intersection. Do it.”
Clay shot the first man at the southeast corner in the head, the second across the street in the neck, the third at the northwest corner was rising—hearing the shots—but also took a head shot. The fourth man ducked. Clay fired but wasn’t sure he hit him. The man was on the ground, partially visible. Maybe the guy was buried in the water or muck.
Prizrak’s car skidded up to the corner. Clay watched her extend her arm—she had a silenced Glock. She shot three times. Then she turned on her headlights and drove through the intersection.
Hustling fast now, Clay climbed off the back of the van’s roof, got in, and drove up to the corner with the lights off. He made the turn south. A mile ahead, the road was lit up a hundred feet out from the compound. Prizrak’s car was parked in the darkness, near the edge of the light.
Clay drove slowly, stopping the van on the side of the road, a good distance north of the lit stretch, so he was surrounded by darkness. He quickly climbed into the back of the van, and then out the back door and up onto the roof again. This time he held a Barrett M107 with a telescopic night sight, suppressor, folding bipod, and subsonic armor piercing rounds. He had a bag of ten round mags, and put a fresh one into the Barrett. Armor piercing rounds meant he could take body shots, instead of head shots; even if Lucian’s men wore Kevlar they would still go down.
He also set his silenced SIG beside him. Just in case.
The marsh sounds were even louder here, which he appreciated—the silenced Barrett was pretty quiet, and the background noise would help.
Balancing the rifle barrel on the bipod, he locked in on the four guards in the tower—his main objective—and then he scanned all the men in the compound.
It’s a damn army, he thought. He spotted two guards kneeling, with RPGs on their shoulders. Swinging the rifle a little farther west, he searched for the big box truck. Angel had mentioned it would be near or in the garage. The garage door was open. And one van was bigger than the others. The size of a UPS truck. Parked dead center in the garage.
Clay began practicing. Tower guards first. Guards holding RPGs second. Truck third.
A helicopter was parked at the far east of the compound. That might make a good target too.
While he waited, he wondered why no spy drones had appeared to scout the road. Feeling uneasy, he abruptly sat up and scanned the sky with the scope. Nothing. He set the rifle down. Taking out a monocular, he scanned the area around the big van in the garage. In a minute a small drone flew out of the building. It rose a hundred feet up, hovered over the front gate, and then slowly flew down the road toward him.
Startled, Clay quickly looked at the gate again. No vehicles were driving out. He scanned the two building rooftops. No rifles poking out. He hadn’t been spotted yet. It wouldn’t matter if the drone operator saw Prizrak’s Mini Cooper—they were expecting her car. But if the operator found out he was here, Lucian would find out too, and that would ensure they failed.
He put away the monocular. Lying down, he used the scope on the Barrett and found the drone. He timed noises in the marsh, hoping to disguise his shot. As soon as the drone flew out of the lit road stretch, and past Prizrak’s Mini Cooper, he fired. The drone fell in pieces to the dirt road.
He again checked the building rooftops. Nothing. Windows. Nothing. It didn’t make sense.
He sensed the van settling slightly. A vibration he barely felt.
A chill ran down his spine. Letting go of the rifle, in one motion he grabbed the SIG and rolled off the top of the van, just as he heard a silenced pistol shot. Not a fan of heights, he didn’t have time to be scared before his back thumped heavily into mud and several inches of water. It knocked half the air out of him, but he didn’t wait to recover. He held his SIG up, looking at the back of the van. Nothing.
Turning his head, he glanced beneath the van. The moon gave just enough light to see what was essential. Someone was walking along the other side. Legs appeared behind the van too—the attacker who had shot at him had stepped off the rear bumper. They were going to come at him from both directions. They must have been let out earlier by Lucian’s van. Angel was right, Lucian was devious.
Rolling sideways, he kept going until he was beneath the van, lying on his stomach. Aiming the SIG, he shot once at the le
gs now in front of the van. Immediately he rolled to the street side of the van, got up, and hurried to the rear tire, crouching behind it. Bending low, he peeked at the front of the van. Silenced bullets bit the street near him. He ducked back. He had glimpsed the man he had shot lying on the ground, aiming his pistol at him.
Moving to the rear of the tire, he glanced again beneath the van. On the other side he couldn’t see the second man. Maybe hiding behind a tire like he was. A standoff.
His pulse raced. He scanned the road behind him to make sure Lucian didn’t have any more latecomers trying to ambush him. Empty.
He was running out of time. Over coms he heard his friends talking in the compound. They were depending on him. He had to take a risk. Fast.
He stuck the SIG around the back of the tire, bracing it with both hands and keeping it horizontal one inch off the ground. By looking at his hands and gun position, he estimated where he was aiming. He pulled the trigger three times. Drawing his gun back, he peeked forward. The man in front had collapsed and looked dead.
Peeking around the rear of the tire again, beneath the van, he found himself staring at the second man. They both ducked back.
Without waiting, Clay strode as quietly as possible along the rear of the van. He stuck his gun around the corner and fired five shots at different heights, again without looking at the target.
A single splash.
He peeked around the corner. The man lay on his back, spreadeagled, dead. Hurrying along the side of the van, he reached the front passenger tire, and peeked beneath the front bumper. He verified the man in front was dead too.
Clay, you have survived another day, he thought.
He saw coms on the man in front of the van. Taking them off the body, he ran to the back of the van while listening.
A voice came through coms. “Is everything okay? Did you see what happened to the drone?”
Clay kept his voice hushed. “All good. Road is clear. We can’t see the drone.”
“Keep an eye on the road.”
“Will do,” said Clay.
He opened the rear door and climbed up to the top of the van. Mud and tension coated his skin. He sighted the Barrett at the building rooftops, the garage, the sky. No rifles and no more drones. Clay concluded the drone operator didn’t know what had happened to the drone; it might give them the few minutes they needed.
He wiped sweat off his forehead, his hands jittery. I’m too old for this crap, he thought. “Get ready, Zeus.”
CHAPTER 40
Steel watched Angel slowly drive his black Chevy SS through the gate. Angel made a U-turn, stopping when the vehicle faced the gate, which remained open. Slowly Angel opened the driver’s door and got out. Disguised as an old man, he wore his western jacket and put on his western hat. He slowly took the jacket off and threw it back into the car. Walking to the back of the car, he slowly turned around to show he was unarmed. Then he leaned against the trunk, his hands resting against the car.
Steel suddenly felt his team had a chance. Angel’s secret trunk compartment in the back of the Chevy would have two Glocks. The man was deadly with those guns. It was how he had killed Christie’s brother, Dale. And Angel’s old man routine would give them an element of surprise. Still, one cartel hitman wasn’t enough to defeat Lucian’s army.
Angel smiled at Lucian, his voice without an accent and a little slower than normal. “We’ve brought the money. The flash drive will come when we feel safe. If anything happens, the person who has the flash drive will destroy it.”
“There’s no need for that.” Dima remained beside Lucian, his Glock still lowered.
Christie stepped out of the back seat, a thin briefcase in one hand. She motioned with her gun, and a man wearing boxer trunks and sandals exited the car via her door. Christie stood partially behind the car door, while the man stood in front of her.
Steel didn’t want Christie here, but it was still good to see her. Her gaze found his; she blinked at him. He took it as a signal and prepared himself.
Lucian smiled at Christie. “So nice of you to bring my inspector back to me in one piece.” He pointed at the man wearing boxer trunks. “Did they treat you nicely?”
Lucian’s inspector nodded. “Yes.”
Lucian had his gun down at his thigh, and he holstered it. “Come on, everyone, guns down. We want them all to feel safe, don’t we? One old man and one woman, with one gun between them.” He gestured to the tower. “I think we have enough guns on them. Not to mention two RPGs.”
Steel looked up. Two of the four men in the tower had their machine guns aimed at Christie and Angel. He didn’t see how his friends planned to overwhelm the forces arrayed against them.
Lucian flicked his fingers at Christie. “Your gun is making my men nervous. Please, put it away.”
Christie frowned and slowly holstered her gun.
Lucian smiled at Angel. “Now what else do you need to feel safe, Old Man?”
Angel nodded to Therese. “Send the girl over so she can get into our car, and we’ll give you the money. One of us drives away with Therese, and the other will leave in our other car.”
“Wonderful.” Lucian gave a small wave. “But the money first.”
Angel sauntered over to Christie, took the briefcase from her, and walked it toward Lucian.
Lucian grinned, raising his arms. “I love the old man trick!”
Angel tipped his hat to Lucian. He set the briefcase down three feet in front of him, and then slowly backed up to the Chevy’s trunk again. “Now send the girl.”
Lucian stepped forward and bent over to pick up the briefcase.
Lucian’s inspector, still standing in front of Christie, shouted, “Don’t touch it! They switched cases in the car.” He twisted, staring defiantly at Christie—she had her hand on her gun but didn’t draw it.
Lucian’s inspector slowly stepped away from Christie, walking toward Lucian’s line of guards.
Steel wasn’t sure what was happening. Whatever plan his team had made had gone awry. Christie bit her lip, eyeing Lucian and then Steel.
Guns were raised again, but Lucian motioned with his palms down. “Easy, easy, I like this game. Besides,” he eyed his men, “I think we still have the advantage, don’t we?” He laughed, and some of his men laughed with him. He faced his inspector. “You saw them switch the cases?”
Lucian’s inspector stopped halfway to the line of guards. “No, they made me turn away. But the money wasn’t two million either. They made me lie. They had a gun on me. I heard them switch the cases. It has to be a bomb. Have someone else open it.”
“He’s lying!” Christie gestured to the inspector. “Your man propositioned us to split the money with him.”
“That’s another lie,” the inspector said calmly.
Lucian drew his HK P30L, keeping it down by his leg. He smiled. “This is becoming quite fun. But I think it’s time to call out the ninjas.” He raised his arms and shouted, “Let them loose!”
Two armored drones flew out of the garage. One flew to the west side of the cars, a hundred feet off the ground. It fired a burst of bullets into the dirt in front of Angel. The other drone flew east of the tower, also far above them. It turned and fired a burst of bullets into the ground near Christie’s door.
Lucian laughed. “I love my ninjas!”
Outside of creating a minor diversion, Steel saw no way he could change the odds in any significant way. His team was going to be slaughtered.
Lucian lowered his arms. “It’s not surprising that the enemy might try a trick or two. That is to be expected. But I’m disappointed in one person so far.” He glared at his inspector. “Are you sure the briefcase doesn’t hold two million?”
The inspector raised a hand, while pleading; “They made me lie. They were going to shoot me.”
“How much do you think is in the briefcase?” Lucian pointed his gun at it.
The inspector shrugged. “Maybe a hundred thousand.”
L
ucian grimaced. “You said it was two million.” He raised his HK and shot his gaping inspector in the head. The man collapsed to the ground.
Christie kept her hand on her gun, but still didn’t draw it. “Send us Therese or you can forget the flash drive. It will be destroyed.”
“Let’s do it, Lucian.” Dima glanced at the big man. “I need the flash drive.”
“Patience, Dima.” Lucian smiled broadly, gesturing to Christie. “Are you talking about the flash drive that you have with your other car driver?” He took a phone from his pocket and spoke into it. “We’re ready for you.”
Steel eyed Angel, who appeared calm, then Christie, who whirled to look through the front gate. A car was approaching fast. The Mini Cooper. The woman. Steel tried to work things out, but he couldn’t. And Zeus was missing. Maybe he never escaped. He dug out the small piece of metal from behind his belt at his back, ready to release the handcuffs. But he saw no path to victory. Yet Christie had said there was a solution. On edge, he forced himself to wait.
The Mini Cooper flew through the front gate, stopping in a short skid ten feet away from the Chevy, but parallel with it. Out of the driver’s door stepped the woman. Still wearing the trench coat, pants, blouse, running shoes, and fedora. Steel felt she was oddly dressed for what was happening.
The woman opened the rear passenger door of her car and dragged Val out of it.
Steel stiffened. Val had her hands tied behind her back and bruises marked her face and neck, with blood above one eyebrow. Anger rose in his throat.
Dima frowned. “Who’s the woman, Lucian?”
Lucian waved his gun. “A friend, Dima, relax.”
Christie was wide-eyed and Angel’s eyes narrowed. Steel didn’t take it as a good sign. He watched the woman. Everything felt wrong. This couldn’t be happening.
Steel Trap: A Jack Steel Action Mystery Thriller, Book 4 Page 25
