Hunt Them Down(86)

Hunt cursed.

Egan had insisted that Hunt give him ten minutes with the Black Tosca. He’d sworn he’d be able to not only pinpoint Sophia’s location inside the humongous estate but also neutralize Nicolás. Hunt would simply need to take care of the two guards and make sure no other bad guys came in. That was the plan anyway.

The house was silent, and Hunt kept getting lost. It took him longer than he wanted to clear the first floor, and he only discovered the library wing by chance. He wanted to move faster, but it wouldn’t serve anyone any good if he ended up dead because he hadn’t cleared a corner correctly. Clearing a house room by room was a complex operation and very stressful. Hunt wiped his brow to keep the sweat from stinging his eyes.

The library was enormous but somehow maintained a cozy feel. There was a bar area, a couple of reading tables with plenty of chairs for a large family to sit together, and four oversized green leather chairs next to a bulky fireplace. A wide, curvy staircase dominated the center of the library. He was cautiously advancing toward the staircase when he saw Hector’s head.

As he got closer, he realized that the staircase wasn’t only spiraling up to the next level; there was a basement too. Hunt stopped, listening for any hint that would help him locate either Egan or Sophia. The first thing his senses picked up was the smell. And it was a smell he recognized.

Gasoline.

This was no time to be timid or cautious. He busted his ass down the stairs, his Glock leading the way. When he hit the bottom step, he stopped to peek down the hallway. From where he stood, Hunt could only see one door. Unfortunately, it was made of reinforced steel.

As he drew closer to the door, the stench grew worse. A red light started blinking, and there was some sort of electronic locking system attached to the door. When he was within ten feet of the door, he heard something in the background. A low humming, like a big electric fan. Then he heard something else and stopped walking. He heard it again, but by the time his brain realized what it was, it was too late. He had fallen into the deadliest trap an operator could fall into—tunnel vision.

Two rounds slammed high into his back, sinking into his vest and forcing him forward into the reinforced steel door. Hunt turned around and dropped to his knees just as the man fired again. The zip of bullets cracked above his head and pinged against the reinforced door a millisecond later, just as Hunt leveled his Glock and returned fire, a tight, three-round grouping into the man’s center of mass. The cartel member fell backward but fired another round that went wide. Hunt got back to his feet, hurt and dazed, but kept his Glock trained on his assailant. The man gave a barely audible moan. He tried to get up, but Hunt dropped his left foot into his sternum. The man was wearing a bulletproof vest under his suit. Hunt aimed the Glock at the man’s head.

“What’s the code?” Hunt asked.

The man was quick—Hunt gave him that. He tried to stick the knife that had appeared almost magically in his right hand into Hunt’s left leg. Hunt fired one round, and the man’s elbow exploded. Before he could yell in pain, Hunt dropped his left knee onto the man’s chest and jammed his Osprey silencer deep into his wide-open mouth.

“You done?”

The man blinked several times. “Do you need a code to access the door at the end of the hallway?” Hunt said.

A nod.

“Do you know what it is?”

Another nod. Hunt removed the silencer from the man’s mouth.

“You have a family?”

“Yes. Three girls and a dog. I have a dog!” the man said, as if that were going to save his life.

“Your boss kidnapped my daughter and her friend,” Hunt explained, his voice a rasp in the darkened hallway. “Tell me the code, and your family will live a long and happy life. They’ll never see me. But give me the wrong one, or simply refuse to tell me what it is, and I’ll fucking kill every one of them.”

The man was crying now. He was under no illusions about his own life. The only decision to make was whether he wanted his family to survive. For most men, it was an easy decision, but, for this one, it seemed a little more complicated. Hunt supposed the man was considering whom he was most afraid of—the guy in front of him with a gun pointed at his head, or the Black Tosca.

“One, three, one, four.”

“Only four digits?” Hunt asked, but he already knew the man was telling the truth.

The man nodded.

Hunt was about to shoot him twice in the head but changed his mind at the last second. There was no point in killing the man. Instead, Hunt brought the butt of his pistol down on the man’s head, knocking him unconscious, then secured the man’s hands behind his back. Hunt inserted a fresh magazine into his Glock and moved quickly down the hallway.

The humming was much louder now, but Hunt couldn’t hear anything else. He punched in the four-digit code. There was a deep, metallic clunk and a sucking sound. Hunt pushed down on the door handle and shoved the door open.





CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

San Miguel de Allende, Mexico

A couple of loud pinging sounds, like metal on metal, rang inside the room and jerked Egan awake. He opened his eyes. Nicolás was standing next to him, holding a lighter. He had heard the sound too, and his face registered surprise. He pulled his pistol from his waistband and aimed it at the door.

“Get behind me, Valentina.”