The Rescue(107)

“You’ll never get them out of that room,” said the man. “It’s impenetrable.”

“They’re exactly where I want them,” said Decker, stepping into the hallway.

He found Pierce crouched in front of a short stairwell leading into the house, tying the end of a spooled wire to the eye hook he’d screwed into the wall two feet above the first step.

“Hurry up,” said Pierce, waving him on. “Watch the leg.”

Decker stepped over WARHAMMER’S mangled leg and proceeded up the stairs. He crouched in the doorway, aiming down a short hallway that led into the kitchen. Pierce stood on the top stair and jammed the claymore mine into the drywall high on the right side of the stairwell. He spent the next few seconds connecting the tightened wire to the mine’s modified trigger.

The first team to barrel headlong up the stairs would get hit by seven hundred one-eighth-inch-diameter steel balls traveling at four thousand feet per second. The effect would be devastating at close range in an enclosed space, hopefully discouraging any further attempts to enter the house.

“Ready,” said Pierce, tapping his shoulder. “You sure you know where we’re going? This place is bigger than Buckingham Palace.”

“Senator Steele drew us a nice map.”

They moved rapidly through the luxuriously appointed rooms, confident they were alone inside the cavernous house. Decker slowed the pace when they reached the mansion’s pièce de résistance, a three-story, windowed great hall overlooking the estate’s gardens. The entrance to Harcourt’s private study was at the opposite side of the ballroom-size space, and Decker couldn’t discount the possibility that the warped tycoon might stick around long enough to fire off a few shots before retreating to the safe room. Sweeping the space with their rifles, Decker and Pierce cautiously made their way across the parquet floor, studying the nooks and crannies of the great hall. When they reached the open study door, he glanced through the window next to him. Lights flickered wildly in the distant tree line.

“We need to pick up the pace,” whispered Pierce, nodding at the light show.

“Concur,” said Decker, removing a flash-bang grenade from a pouch on his vest and pulling the pin.

He tossed the grenade into the study and crouched next to the door, the room exploding with light a moment later. Decker slipped into the room and turned left, searching for targets, while Pierce did the same with the other half of the room. They trusted each other to clear their assigned sectors, an instinct born from thousands of hours of training and live operations.

“Clear,” they said at the same time.

Decker headed right for the hidden door leading to the safe room hallway. Senator Steele had provided Special Agent Reeves with the general location of the door based on the tour Harcourt had given her when she visited the estate with Senator Frist. All part of the con job the two of those assholes had run on her, which Decker planned to make right—in the next few minutes.

“I’m going to step outside to play that beautiful piano for a minute, unless you need me in here,” said Pierce.

“This shouldn’t take long,” said Decker, pulling out a cell phone–size block of C-4.

“Good. I’ve always wanted to play on a Steinway.” Pierce stepped out of the room.

“It’s a Steinway D-Two-Seventy-Four, to be precise,” said a voice from a hidden intercom speaker. “Custom designed for this house.”

“I’ll be gentle,” Pierce yelled from the grand hall.

“What got your attention? Someone sitting at your half-million-dollar piano?” said Decker. “Or the block of C-4?”

“The piano, Mr. Decker. I bought it as a gift for my wife. It means a lot to her. The charge you’re holding is barely enough to get through the outer door.”

Decker unsnapped the drop pouch attached to his left leg and removed a one-pound block of C-4, holding it up for Harcourt to see. “How about this?” he said. “And call me Decker.”

When Harcourt responded, he heard a frantic voice in the background.

“Still not enough to get through,” said Harcourt. “The room is a layered titanium box that can withstand a shaped charge.”

Decker laughed. “I don’t need to blast through the walls to accomplish my mission. Can you imagine what’s going to happen when I detonate a one-pound block of C-4 against one of those walls?”

“I’ve read the literature, Mr. . . . Decker,” said Harcourt. “We’ll be fine. It’ll ring our bell, but that’s about it.”

“I was thinking it would collapse the floor and bring the entire house down on you. Probably start a fire, which I would help along by tossing a few incendiary grenades on the rubble. Nothing tastier than that slow-cooked, low-country BBQ taste, right, Senator Frist?”

When several seconds passed without a reply, Decker guessed that Frist was having a meltdown and Harcourt was having serious reservations about his future prospects in the safe room. He was also aware that the clock was ticking. The flickering lights visible through the study window were getting closer.

“Decker. I think there’s been a big misunderstanding,” said Harcourt.

“Seriously?” Decker shook his head. “I have to admit, I was not expecting you to grovel.”

“I believe you’ve been fed some very erroneous information. Probably by the Russians, or possibly one of my competitors. Whatever you’ve been told—”