Page 71 of Code Name: Tank
Ranger’s voice crackled through my earpiece, distorted by the cold. “Copy that. Thermal shows four heat signatures inside the structure.”
I hand-signaled to the team. We’d advance as one unit and breach simultaneously through the front and rear entrances. The snow would mask the sounds of our approach, but we needed to move fast and quiet.
We were within two feet when we heard a muffled scream.
“That’s Hartwell,” said Dragon.
My gut told me things were about to turn deadly fast. “Move in! Move in! Move in!Hostage execution imminent.”
Kodiak hit the front door hard, splintering the frame. Through the doorway, I saw two armed men standing over the prisoners, weapons raised to fire.
I didn’t hesitate, firing two quick shots to the first hostile’s chest as Dragon took out the second. Both men dropped before they could pull their triggers.
Flint sat slumped in a wooden chair, his wrists zip-tied behind him and a gag stuffed in his mouth. His head lolled forward, unconscious, but his chest rose and fell steadily. He was alive.
Hartwell was bound to another chair just a few feet away, conscious but with duct tape across his mouth. His eyes were wide with fear and relief at seeing us. His clothes were rumpled and dirty, and bruises on his face suggested he’d been roughed up.
“Clear,” Atticus called out, scanning the cabin interior for additional threats. “These two are already on their way to hell.” He motioned to the dead hostiles.
Kodiak went straight to Flint, checking his pulse and breathing. “He’s alive but heavily sedated,” he reported, cutting through the zip-ties. They drugged him but kept him breathing.”
“Overwatch One or Two, this is Tank,” I said into my radio. “Hostiles down, Hartwell and Flint secured. Hartwell conscious but injured. Flint unconscious. Need immediate extraction.”
“Copy that, Tank. ETA three minutes,” Ranger’s voice came back.
Dragon raced toward Hartwell, and when she pulled the duct tape from his mouth, he gasped.
“Piper, thank God. They were about to kill us both.”
Just as Dragon cut Hartwell’s restraints, the sound of rotor blades overhead made us all freeze as a military-grade helicopter settled into the clearing outside.
“Fuck, that’s not ours,” I shouted. “Move! We engage before they’re out!” I barked. “Atticus, cover from in here!”
I burst through the front door with Dragon and Kodiak flanking, catching the Zaristani extraction team still deploying from their aircraft.
The firefight erupted immediately. These were professional gunmen, heavily armed but not expecting to encounter resistance instead of their guards and either dead or secured prisoners.
Seconds later, Hartwell burst out of the cabin and raced toward Dragon.
“Contact front!” Kodiak shouted, laying down suppressing fire.
From behind me, the crack of Atticus’ weapon split the air. Hartwell jerked and stumbled as we sprayed bullets toward the hostiles.
“Three down, but there’s still the pilot!” Kodiak raced toward the aircraft before it could lift off.
Atticus was right behind me, both of us firing at the helicopter.
“Got ’em,” I heard Kodiak shout as the aircraft, rotors spinning, stayed otherwise motionless.
I looked over my shoulder. Where the hell was Dragon? Hartwell lay motionless where he’d fallen, blood pooling beneath his head from where it had struck a rock.
“No!”I shouted, racing to Dragon, who lay partially obscured by Hartwell’s body. Blood was spreading from under her arm, where there was an opening in her body armor.
“Piper!”I crawled to her side, my hands immediately going to the wound.
“Tank,” she whispered, her face pale but her eyes alert.
I checked the wound quickly. The bullet had hit just below her armpit. Blood frothed at the corners of her mouth, a sign the bullet may have hit her lung.
