Hunt Them Down(56)

“The trick is to go slowly at first,” Hunt said.

“Okay.”

“If a light comes on,” Hunt said, “run back toward the beach and get back to Anna.”

“You know I won’t do that, so stop bullshitting me.”

“If this is indeed a trap, they’ll have automatic weapons,” Hunt warned him. “We have pistols.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of super-hotshot DEA agent?”

“A bullet in the head is a bullet in the head. It doesn’t discriminate. It doesn’t matter how well trained you are. If they have superior firepower and we’re outnumbered, our only chance is our stealth and the violence of our action when the shooting starts. Let’s try to keep the element of surprise for as long we can.”

Without another word, he crawled toward the house. He held his pistol in his right hand while the left held a small radio scanner. Fifty feet and five minutes later, he stopped his painstakingly slow crawl and turned on the device. They had reached the edge of the property. Hunt doubted they were close enough for the scanner to detect the motion sensors—which were generally reliable to about thirty feet—but there was no room for error, so Hunt checked anyway.

Nothing. He continued forward, stopping every five feet to check the detector, half expecting the motion-sensor-activated floodlights to beam on them. On the fourth stop—they were now well inside the property line—the scanner vibrated twice, announcing that it had found the wavelength of the sound waves the motion sensors were using. It was too dark for Hunt to see where the sensors were located, but if he had to guess, he’d say they were positioned on the numerous palm trees lined up about fifty feet from the rear of the house. Hunt matched the scanner’s frequency to the one emitted by the sensor. By squawking in the same frequency, the scanner masked any other returning waves, making Hunt and Tony invisible to the motion sensor. Hunt repeated the process three more times. He glanced back at Tony. The moonlight was just bright enough to illuminate his face. He was staring right back at Hunt, his face blank—no trace of a smile, but no anger or animosity either.

“Let’s do this,” he mouthed.

Hunt wiped his forehead with his arm. He never minded the heat, but tonight the humidity was killing him. His shirt was stuck to his back, and sweat trickled into his eyes. He looked ahead. Another fifty feet and they would reach the terrace. They wouldn’t be able to keep going in a straight line, though; there was a massive pool in their path, so they hooked to the right. As much as Hunt forced himself to focus, he couldn’t help thinking about Leila. The closer they got to the house, the more he felt she wasn’t there. The house was too dark, too quiet.

He couldn’t let his pessimism get the best of him.

One step at a time, Pierce, Hunt told himself. Take it one step at a time. It’s the only way to move forward. She’s counting on you.

“Stop!”

Hunt turned his head to his left. Tony had caught up to him.

“What is it?”

“There’s a pathway to our right. Looks like it tracks the side of the house.”

Hunt had missed it. That’s what happens when you aren’t attentive to your surroundings. You’re lucky someone wasn’t waiting for you with a rifle. You’d be dead. They were so close to the house that Hunt was confident there were no more motion detectors between him and where he wanted to go. He gave the detector to Tony and whispered, “Take this, and slowly make your way to the front door.”

“I’ll let you know when I’m there,” Tony told him.

Tony had already moved toward the path when Hunt reached out and grabbed his ankle. Tony glanced back.

“Make sure you know who you’re shooting at before pulling the trigger.”

“Let me worry about this,” Tony whispered back, kicking Hunt’s hand away with his opposite foot.

Once Tony was out of sight, Hunt continued inching his way toward the house while making sure to stay out of direct view from the patio door. If someone were to take a peek from one of the second floor windows, he’d be done for.

Tony’s voice came squawking in his earpiece. “I’m a few feet away from the front door. Are you ready?”

Tony had gone his separate way less than three minutes ago. Didn’t I tell him to go slow? He loathed working with civilians. They had no tactical awareness. Tony was tough and a bright guy. Hunt wasn’t surprised that the Garcia family had thrived under his leadership. But in their current situation, Tony was out of his depth. He should have listened to Hunt.

“Stand by,” Tony told him.

“I’m good to go when you’re both ready,” Anna informed them.

“Copy that, Anna,” Hunt replied. “Wait for my command.”

It took him another two minutes to reach his spot. Hidden behind the built-in kitchen, Hunt had a perfect view of the patio door fifteen feet away. He was about to use the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face but remembered it was full of sand. He used his hand instead and rubbed it dry against his jeans.

“Anna, this is Pierce.”

“Yes?”

“On my command, open the front gate, then wait twenty seconds and ring the doorbell.”

“What about the floodlight?”

“I’ll let you know when to turn it on.”