A Deadly Influence (Abby Mullen Thrillers #1)(101)
Abby and the rest of the task force stood alongside the group of ESU officers and a few select officers from the Suffolk County Police, including Detective Wong. Otis Tillman’s farm, or the Tillman compound, as Baker called it, was less than two hundred yards away.
Baker continued with his briefing. “Since we don’t have intel about the main house interior—”
“Lieutenant Mullen and I were inside the house,” Wong said.
Everyone turned to look at them.
Baker had decided to strike during dinnertime, which Leonor promised was a two-, sometimes three-hour affair. It always started with a long sermon by Otis. And depending on how hungry he was, the sermon could take ages. During that time, the majority of the community was in the dining hall, listening. The sermon was mandatory. Only two armed guards remained outside, one in the lookout tower by the gate and one patrolling the perimeter. Otis himself had two armed bodyguards, but they were in the dining hall with him. The rest were unarmed.
The raid was a joint operation of the NYPD and the Suffolk County Police—with an understanding that the ESU commanding officer called the shots.
“Do you think you can find your way in it?” Baker asked.
“I believe we can,” Abby said.
They were in a thicket of trees. The house stood between them and the lookout tower. Abby had been supposed to stay back while the ESU officers and the Suffolk cops raided the compound. But the plans were quickly changing.
“Put on a vest, you two, and someone get them goggles,” Baker ordered.
She’d forgotten how heavy the vest was. It was like medieval armor. She dreaded the moment she’d have to run with the thing. Wong wore hers casually, as if it were a shirt. A man gave Abby night vision goggles and helped her adjust them on her head. When she turned them on, the trees were flooded in a gray-green light.
Abby scrutinized her surroundings in the new light, getting used to it. It was hard to get a sense of depth of her environment, and she dreaded walking with the thing, not to mention running. All around her, men were adjusting their gear, tightening straps, checking their guns and magazines. Wong did the same, moving with confidence and ease. Abby felt out of place, but it was hardly the first time. She could fake confidence. She just wished she could feel it.
Leonor had been a treasure trove of information, handing them detailed schedules, living arrangements, even recalling the blind spots of the lookout tower. She’d recited it all in a detached tone that worried Abby. Behind that tone were layers of turbulence and pain. Leonor’s world had been torn to shreds, and although it was for the best, Abby knew the next few months would be fraught with hardship.
“Hey,” Carver whispered by her side. “Be careful in there. Okay?”
She glanced at him and could see the concern on his face, even with the flat gray-green vision. “Don’t worry; I’ll leave the action-hero stuff to the ESU guys.”
A voice buzzed in her earphone. “They’re entering the dining hall now.” It was the officer on lookout, stationed on the roof of a nearby barn and equipped with a scope.
“Can you see the patrol?” Baker asked.
“Negative. He should be on the eastern part of the compound.”
They all waited, tense. Abby hardly breathed, listening intently. Somewhere in the distance, a vehicle drove by. Crickets and katydids chirped around them. Ben had once explained the difference, but she couldn’t remember which were the noisier ones.
“I see him now,” the lookout said. “Northeastern corner.”
“Okay,” Baker said. “Team one, go.”
Four men moved, melting into the night. Even with her night vision goggles, Abby could hardly see them as they proceeded in the direction of the fence. She waited, shivering, not knowing if it was from the cold, or fear, or excitement. She counted in her mind, matching the beat of the insect chirping. When she reached 378, a gruff voice said on the channel, “We’re in. The patrol is in custody.”
“Move to the lookout tower,” Baker said. “Team two, Mullen, Wong. Go.”
Three men moved, crouched, following the first team’s path. Wong followed, and Abby jostled behind them, keeping as low as she could. The vest made it hard to bend over, and she was breathing hard within seconds, the night’s chilly air hurting her lungs. Then she saw the fence, bathed in the night vision goggles’ green hue. A section of the fence had been cut—the work of the first team.
And they were inside, running through an apple orchard, branches snagging at Abby’s sleeves. She tripped over a tree root, stumbling, nearly crashing to the ground, the NVGs shifting askew, and for a moment she got a glimpse of the orchard without them, a pitch-black darkness, the trees like menacing shadows. She couldn’t see or hear the rest of her teammates, her breathing becoming fast, panicky. She put the goggles back on, and the world shifted back to green. There was Wong, coming back for her. Abby gave her a thumbs-up. They kept going.
At the edge of the orchard, they paused. A field lay between them and the house, and the lookout would see them if they ran out in the open. Abby squatted, catching her breath.
“Lookout in custody,” the man from team one said. “We’re opening the front gate.”
Both armed guards were down. The rest of the cult members were in the dining hall.
Abby followed the men as they ran in the open field toward the house. She felt exposed but reminded herself that any of the cult members who happened to look out the dining hall window would see nothing. Abby and her team were shrouded by the night. And without her goggles, she’d see nothing either.