Page 31 of Luck Be Mine
“Good hunting. We’ll see you on the flip side.” The pilot wasted no time lifting the bird back into the air and vanishing into the night, taking their safety net with them.
Deep silence. A klick out from the target. Only wind, sand, and twinkling stars kept them company. Their walk was measured, attention absolute.
They approached in the shadows of a ravine. Satellite confirmed the area was clear except for movement in the house. Hernandez studied the layout with his binoculars. Hunt didn’t need the man’s assessment, though.
Single-level stone structure made things easier, two or three rooms at most. The front door was reinforced wood with a small, barred window. The one light bulb at the front entry only spread light so far. He signaled for Tommy to make his way around the back to cover any exit. Hernandez stayed put to protect their six.
Baxter needed no direction to prep the charge for the front door. Hunt signaled, and they moved in. Like clockwork, Baxter planted the explosive and stepped back. Hunt counted in his head. Three, two, one. The flash and boom of the device blew down the door.
They were in.
A man dressed in black froze in the front area, then turned to flee out the back exit. He pulled open the door. Tommy popped him in the face, knocked him unconscious, flipped him, and zip tied his hands and feet.
Loud Arabic cries sounded behind another closed, locked door. The entry room was a bare hovel with a table and little else. Except a small child’s shoes by the firepit.
Not another kid. Christ.
Baxter moved to open the other door, and Hunt slid into position to have his back. Tommy stayed in place at the rear exit.
The door breach went as efficiently as the first. Bingo. Target acquired. Groggy, sitting on the edge of the bed, the man struggled with his shoes. The laptop sat blinking beside him.
Baxter moved in one fluid motion to knock him unconscious and zip tie his hands and feet. Hunt grabbed the laptop, studied the information on the screen, slammed the lid, and tucked it into a protective sleeve retrieved from his pocket. “This is it.”
Baxter dumped the man to the floor and flipped the mattress. He rose grinning – a SAT phone and a hard drive in his hands. He pointed at the wall. Hunt took one look at the maps and pulled his phone. He took the necessary minutes to take a full set of clear pictures. Packing everything into a go bag took mere seconds.
After a final search through the house, they left the two men by the table in the front room and propped the door to close the gap. Sixteen minutes and four seconds total, and they werenothing but shadows along the wall of the ravine heading back the way they’d come.
But Hunt’s brain stuck on the kid’s shoes. Vivid blue and dirty shoelaces suggested things that turned his stomach.
An engine sounded in the distance. The noise could have carried for miles. Hernandez, covering the rear, lifted his binoculars. Tommy swung his weapon in the same direction and sited with his scope. “Pickup.”
“Agreed.” Hernandez slapped his night-vision binoculars back into his gear.
Hunt froze.Déjà vu. Yet there was nothing to be done. “Don’t engage unless they fire. Let’s get to the chopper.”
They accelerated their pace and seven minutes later they were greeted at the original LZ with the landing Chinook. No blood. No fuss.
Fast entry, door slid closed. The night stayed silent in their victory.
§§§§§§§§§§
◊ Moving Time and Old Friends ◊
Cait sat cushioned in the recliner while all around her activity buzzed. To survive a move without Hunt, Adele helped her pick a company who would pack and load. Two men had arrived and were efficiently dismantling their lives. March’s Friday the thirteenth date pricked her sensibilities, but superstition wouldn’t help.
While the crew worked in the kitchen, Master Chief Buckner had a group of Navy SEALS in training, or tadpoles as the teams called them, helping him inventory. They would move the weapons, gun safe, and all Hunt’s diving and Navy equipment. The buzz of activity, the getting in and out of the chair,the chronic pain, and the decisions frazzled her nerves and dismantled her faith in her getting-stronger self.
All because she whined about the stairs.
“Knock, knock.” A rap on their wood door echoed with the words.
She eased around in the chair. Quaid Daniels stood in the doorway. His gray tailored suit fit to perfection, and his blond hair was expertly styled. With a deep tan and muscles in all the right places, he more than earned his playboy status. No one would suspect the sham. He gave her a genuine smile. “You are a sight for grateful eyes.”
She struggled out of her chair, fussing over her athletic pants and t-shirt while running her good hand through her shorter hair. “Get in here. Where have you been?” She kept a hand on the recliner and waited.
He walked to her and swept her into a hug. “With grandfather. I’ve been worried about you.”
“I’m hanging on. Hunt has me.”
