“Execute lucky strike.” The code they’d agreed upon before leaving on the mission.
“Hold for confirmation,” came back at him.
“Hold positions until confirmed,” Hunt ordered the team.
Scott came back on. “Eyes on. Confirmed for hellfire. Lucky Strike. Three minutes. How copy?”
“Good copy.”
“Take cover. Stay in place.” He set the timer on his watch and waited.
Carter slid in next to him. “Are we going to try to get to the boy?”
“No.” That bothered him in no easy measure. “No choice, Carter. We can’t get to him. Not sure he’d go with us if we tried. We don’t know it wasn’t the boy who killed Reid and his mother. We don’t know the father didn’t train him to do the deed. We can’t risk it.”
“Understood. Checking the parameters.” Carter turned back to monitoring the men. The group entered the house. The boy was next to IQS, the man’s arm slung around his shoulder.
“Doc’s going to hate this,” Hunt muttered, searching for any other solution.
Carter maintained target observation. “Maybe we don’t tell her.”
Hunt recoiled at the idea. He could justify this whole thing as classified, but that was what had caused part of the mess in the first place. It had been her mission, and they hadn’t told her. As a result, they’d missed an easier opportunity to get to the man that wouldn’t have involved the boy, his mother, or their CIA agent. Life was messed up sometimes. Of course, it wouldn’t be his choice. Somebody higher than him would slap the need to know on the whole mess.
He glanced at his watch. “We are at ninety seconds,” he said into his mic.
“They’re inside, LT. Only three men outside.” Carter sighed. “One way to clear a cell and a very nasty man.”
Hunt shared his sentiment. “Homeplate, target has entered the dwelling.”
“Copy. Acquisition in sixty seconds. Exfil after confirmation of target destruction.”
“Ear plugs, LT.” Carter slipped out his earpiece and shoved the foam ear plugs into his ears.
Hunt followed suit with one ear, leaving his earpiece in. Watching the seconds tick off, a feeling of satisfaction at finally trapping the bastard after two long years of hunting rolled over him. The work of dozens of people had successfully found the man and completed the mission.
“Twenty seconds. Cover.” Hunt heard the whistle of the missile before he finished the instruction.
He shoved the other ear plug into his ear, shut his eyes against the flash of the explosion, thenheard the semi-muted sound. The ground trembled with the force of the missile – dirt and smoke filled the air. Opening his eyes, he sought the house, but the ground was a deep crater. An obliterated piece of the countryside was all that remained. The three men left outside were down, and the cars all destroyed. One missile. One cell. One terrorist. The job was done. Time to go home.
Carter rolled and rose in a crouch. “Are we going closer to look?”
“Hold.” Hunt rose and shook his head. “Homeplate, target destroyed. Lucky Strike achieved.”
“Copy, Alpha Team. Congratulations.”
Hunt studied the landscape. “Nothing left, Carter. Won’t be any intel down there to take back. Alpha Three, pictures. Let’s give them another angle.”
“Copy. In progress. Nothing left, Alpha One.” The statement confirmed what Hunt thought.
“Exfil. Meet me above at the cache.” He listened while everyone copied. “Homeplate. Exfil in progress. How copy?”
“Copy good, Alpha. Safe journey.”
There wasn’t much talking on the way up the hillside or out. The grins didn’t come out until they were loaded in the helicopter and on their way back to base.
“We nailed him.” Tommy fist bumped K-Rock.
The others shared the moment.