No Fortunate Son (Pike Logan, #7)(97)

Jennifer drove and I relayed the plan, talking to Brett. There would be no time to sit around and hash out a detailed OPORDER over a sand table, but I knew I didn’t need to worry about that. The minute Retro had made the call, he was thinking about assault.

I said, “We’re six minutes out on the blacktop. Get your ass off the hill and meet us at the road. I have your kit.”

All business, he asked, “Plan?”

“Stalk from the river. Me, you, and Retro. Koko and Nung take the car to the far side and lock it down with long guns.”

“Explosive breach?”

“Yeah. Unless you have a better idea.”

“Nope. I got the breach-point. See you in six.”

And that was the plan. All of it.

We passed the mill on the main road, the dirt lane snaking off into the darkness, then crossed the river and turned left on the two-lane blacktop, paralleling the water. We drove for another minute, and I saw a penlight flash. We pulled into a cutout, seeing Brett and Retro kneeling with ghillie suits on and holding their recce kit.

Nung popped our hatchback and Retro started shuffling equipment, exchanging his optics and UAV for suppressed HK UMP submachine guns.

Brett said, “They definitely moved two inside. From what I’ve seen, I think the house is a basic four-room plan. There’s a breach at the front, the side, and one in the rear. We take the rear one.”

“Where do you think they’ve got the hostages?”

“I’m thinking the front. The heat sources are all there, with the exception of two in the rear and two on the side.”

“Can we get there without compromise?”

“I can’t say. If they don’t have any optics—thermals or NODs—yeah. But I just don’t know. I didn’t see any telltale IR when looking, though.”

“So what are the two at the rear doing?”

He grinned, his teeth glowing in the darkness. “Preventing the bad man from coming.”

I nodded, asking the question I knew he’d already figured out. “What’s the approach? You got a route?”

“Yeah. We cross the river right here, then buttonhook into the draw that runs parallel to the house. It peters out about seventy meters shy. From there, we just go in.”

I said, “You and Retro on the same sheet of music?”

“Yeah. We’re good.”

Which meant I didn’t have to brief anything. I asked, “Who’s breach?”

“Me.”

I nodded and said, “Jennifer, Nung, come here.”

When they closed on me I said, “We’re crossing here. I want you guys to drive back around to the dirt lane. No lights once you turn. Get as close as you can, then walk in. We aren’t going to wait for you to get in position, but call when you are. We’ll be moving to breach.” I tapped the barrel of her 416. “Lock down the front. Don’t let anyone leave.”

Nung began working the action of his own 416 and I wondered if I would regret giving it to him. I said, “Nung, Jennifer’s in charge. You understand? No shooting unless she says so.”

He looked at me with his blank shark eyes and said, “I understand. I protect her. She shoots.”

I was taken aback, because that was exactly what I wanted him to do. I said, “Yeah. You guard her flanks, she does the shooting.”

He looked at her, then me, and said, “She will be fine.”

He walked away, and Jennifer said, “I’m not so sure about him.”

“I wasn’t either, but inside that prison in Thailand, he was a holy terror. He says he’ll protect you, and it’s better than body armor.”

She said, “Oookaaay . . . ,” drawing out the word.

I said, “Get going.”

She started to leave, and I grabbed her wrist. “One final thing: If it gets hot, don’t let him start shooting. I’m not sure he gets the whole ‘discrimination’ thing. He’s liable to kill the hostages.”

Her eyes widened and she said, “What am I supposed to do to prevent that? If I’m getting shot at?”

“I don’t know. Return fire with your gun and then bump him. Knock off his aim.”

Her expression grew fierce. “Are you kidding me? I’m not taking him. I’ll go alone.”

I grinned at her attitude and said, “Just don’t let him start blazing away. He’ll listen to you. He wants to get paid.”

She looked at me with slitted eyes. I glanced around, seeing nobody near, then leaned in close and said, “Don’t get hurt. Call if you need help.”

I kissed her on the lips, a brief peck.

I’d studiously kept our relationship purely professional for anyone on the team watching, and would have never done it, but we were going into the teeth of some bad guys. And I needed to give her some courage. Something to anchor against. It would help her . . .

Okay, that’s bullshit and I had lost my mind for a moment. I just wanted to do it . . . in case. She returned the kiss and said, “More than likely you’ll be calling me.”

I chuckled. “Probably so.”

She winked at me and said, “Nung? You ready?”

They packed up and the car disappeared down the road. Retro jacked a round into his UMP and said sotto voice, “Don’t get hurt. Call if you need help.”