Deadly Game (Fortress Security #5)(80)

Cahill handed Brent the infrared scanner, pointed at the left corner of the hacienda on the second floor. He studied the heat signatures in the room. Two figures. One adult. One child. What the scanner couldn’t tell him was whether or not the signatures belonged to Rowan and Alexa.

He remained motionless, watching the figures, hoping for some movement to tell him whether or not the adult in the room was Rowan. The figure sat beside the prone child, stroking his or her head. Comforting the child.

Brent scanned the surrounding trees for heat signatures. No one close by. The guards were walking on the far side of the house, according to one of his other unit leaders.

He activated his comm system. “Alex, any sign of a child on the premises other than the one in the east corner?” he murmured.

A moment of silence, then Durango’s sniper responded. “Negative.”

“Veronica Miles said a woman and child were brought here from Phillips’ plane. That has to be Rowan and her niece,” Cahill said.

“Agreed. Move your team into position.”

Cahill melted into the shadows to join his teammates. Alex Morgan had already taken a high vantage point to cover his unit’s entry and exit from the hacienda.

Adam and Eli flanked Brent, Jake behind them with his mike bag in case Rowan or Alexa were injured and needed immediate medical attention. “Jon’s in position.” This from Eli.

With a nod, Brent activated his comm system again. “Bravo and Gamma teams, report.” When the team leaders confirmed their teams were in position, Brent instructed them to hold. Once Durango was in place, all the teams would converge on the hacienda.

For the first time, Brent’s patience was strained to the breaking point. Never before had he been tempted to leap into action before his operatives were in position. This time, though, the mission was personal. Every minute he waited was another that Rowan and Alexa were alone and vulnerable. And that wasn’t acceptable to him on any level. Only years of discipline kept him in place.

“In position,” Cahill finally murmured in Brent’s ear piece.

“On my signal,” Brent said.

“Copy.”

Jake had timed the guards’ rounds. So far, they hadn’t deviated from their seven-minute intervals. Sloppy work. Frankly, he was surprised Garcia allowed this pattern to develop.

Brent forced thoughts of Rowan and Alexa to the back of his mind and focused on the execution of the mission. He couldn’t afford a distraction. His life, that of his operatives, and Rowan’s and Alexa’s lives all depended on his focus.

Right on schedule, the guards rounded the east corner and started across the front of the house. “Durango and Bravo, go.”

His body readied itself for the sprint across the open terrain to their designated entrance. Garcia’s hacienda had four entrances, one on each side of the place. Fortress didn’t have the option of using windows because the paranoid cartel leader had bars on every one. Talk about a fire hazard.

There were two underground escape routes with a PSI sniper trainee and spotter waiting at each tunnel exit in case Garcia slipped past the units closing in on the hacienda.

When the time was right, Brent signaled his team to move and whispered, “Gamma, go.” With that command, the EOD men from Durango and Bravo took down the circling guards in total silence.

He and his unit crossed the open space without incident. Brent crouched in front of the door and quickly picked the lock.

“Alpha team, you’re clear,” Jon murmured through his ear piece.

“Copy,” Brent whispered and opened the door to slip into the darkened corridor. At just past one o’clock in the morning, most of the household was asleep. Guards roamed inside the hacienda. Fortress would deal with Garcia’s security detail as they encountered them. “EOD.”

His order was acknowledged as he and his unit worked their way toward Rowan and Alexa.

“One incoming,” Jon murmured.

A muffled footstep confirmed Jon’s warning. Brent signaled his unit. They scattered, melting into the shadows of alcoves, furniture, or an unoccupied room.

A lone guard walked into view. Brent sized him up in seconds. Lazy, arrogant, careless, his stride more of a strut. The man’s gaze swept over the corridor without noticing anything amiss, his face registering boredom and fatigue. Based on the puffiness, Brent guessed the man to be a heavy drinker.

Brent palmed his Ka-bar, slipped behind the man, and slammed the hilt of his knife on the back of his neck. The guard’s knees gave way. Brent caught him before he hit the ground. He and Eli dragged the man into the nearest room, cinched his wrists and ankles with zip ties, and slapped duct tape on his mouth to keep him from alerting Garcia or another guard too soon.

“Jon?”

“Clear.”

Brent and his unit moved into the corridor and resumed the journey toward the east corner room on the second floor. At prearranged intervals, Eli stopped and attached C-4. The EOD men in the other units did the same as they progressed through the hacienda. By the time Fortress was finished with Garcia and his organization, the Navarro cartel would be decimated.

Brent made his way to the east side staircase with his team following in his wake. He frowned. The staircase twisted at a sharp ninety-degree angle. Blind spot. He signaled his team to wait while he checked to see if the stairwell was clear.

Brent silently traversed the stairs to the landing and peered around the corner. Nothing. Excellent. He motioned for the others to follow and climbed the remaining stairs. When he reached the second floor landing, he held up his fist to signal his unit to stop.