Page 2 of Resuscitation
Leon chuckled, a dark, throaty sound. “Y’all can keep up chatting all night long. As long as I get to shoot something, I’m happy.”
“Jesus, Leon,” Connor called from the front, his voice strained. “We’re not here to murder anyone.”
“Speak for yourself,” Leon muttered under his breath.
Mark glanced at Mercer in the front cabin, his face a mask of unease. “He’s kidding, right? We’re just here for the rubies.”
Mercer glared—not just at Mark, but at each of the men in turn. “Stay focused and do your jobs. We get in, get what we came for, everyone goes home.”
Tyson cracked his knuckles, the sound loud in the confined space. “But if someone gets in our way…”
“Then we do what needs to be done,” Mercer finished, his tone leaving no room for doubt or hesitation.
They drove on silently, taking another turn onto a smaller, rural road which snaked up into the mountains. Connor had to slow on the slick, unsalted road, and after what seemed like an eternity, Mercer checked the map app on his phone and turned to his crew.
“Two klicks out.”
The van fell into another heavy silence, each man left to his own thoughts. They drove around a bend in the road where a high stone wall and gates came into view. Beyond it, the unmistakable shape of the hulking three-story coal baron mansion waited.
Mercer gestured to a clearing just short of the walls. “This is it. Pull over here.”
Connor killed the engine and lights as Mercer lowered a pair of night vision goggles and scanned the scene.
“Still can’t see jack shit even with these,” he muttered. He could tell the house was dark. No lights. He wished he’d had enough cash to spring for the fancy thermal NVGs, but he’d figured weapons took priority, so all they had was a cheap thermal imaging camera stolen from a fire station. They’d need to get closer to get inside the camera’s range. He turned to his gang. “You all know what to do. Go, Bravo and Delta.”
The rear door opened, and a rush of harsh, cold air, along with a flurry of snow, blew into the vehicle. Harper, aka Bravo, and Mark, Delta, jumped out into the shadows, donned their NVGs, and made a beeline for the wall.
From his perch in the front passenger seat, Mercer watched Harper crouch down while Evans climbed onto his back. Then Harper slowly stood up, giving his buddy the extra height they needed. Evans shimmied sideways onto the wall, slipped a pair of wire cutters out of a pocket, and snipped away at the razor wire which crowned the top of the wall.
Once clear, he hauled himself up and then leaned down to help Harper up, then they both jumped down inside the perimeter. They paused for a few seconds, then moved silently through the falling snow, keeping either side of the long drive toward the main building, the looming mansion that stood stoically in the darkness.
Mark located the alarm panel near the main entrance, began carefully unscrewing the protective casing, swung the panel door aside, and studied the maze of circuits inside. He knew the model and how to disable it, but he’d never performed such intricate work while fighting against driving wind and snow. Once Harper cut the power, the alarm would be out of action, but they couldn’t risk some backup power randomly kicking in, bringing the alarm system back to life. So, it had to be disabled first.
He connected his portable keypad to the panel’s input system and began entering default installer codes, hoping their target had neglected to change them.
No luck. The codes were rejected, but Mark didn’t panic; he was prepared for this. He reached for his multi-meter and placed an insulated mat on the ground. Disconnecting the panel’s power supply was delicate work, and one misstep could trigger the alarm he was trying to disable.
He identified the live wires with the multi-meter, his movements precise and controlled. Using wire cutters, he carefully severed the connections to the sensors and siren, then bridged specific circuits to create a false loop, making the system believe all sensors were in their neutral state. He also found and disabled the tamper circuits, ensuring no backup alarm would be triggered. Then the ex-con activated his radio and spoke into an earpiece that had been plugged into it.
“Delta to Bravo. Alarms down. Over.”
“Roger that,” came Harper’s reply from his planned position near the house.
The South African had been recruited for this job by Mercer’s ex-cell mate, Brick. Harper had located the electrical box on the wall of the house and crouched down in front of it, adjusting a small, red lens headlamp. Then he pried the box door open with a flathead screwdriver and scanned the complex wiring inside for a few moments before flipping the main breaker switch. There was a secret, secondary compartment where the backup battery resided. But it couldn’t hide from Harper, not for long. Using wire cutters, he severed the connection to the battery, ensuring it couldn’t power the system.
He pressed his finger to his earpiece and spoke quietly into mic on his lapel, wired to the walkie-talkie on his belt. “Bravo to Alpha. Power and alarms are down. All clear to proceed. Out.”
In the van, Brick set up a DragonMart DMJ-208 signal jammer with a range of up to 150 meters to block mobile and GPS signals. Mercer jumped out of the vehicle, jogged up to the gates, and pushed them open. He hesitated for a moment, shoulders hunched in anticipation of alarms that never came. Brick’s man, Harper, had performed as promised.
Connor started the van, kept the lights off, and drove through the gates. Mercer climbed back into the passenger seat, and the vehicle crept up the drive. “Twelve minutes until the alarm company’s response car arrives.”
“You sure it’s just a square badge, not the cops?” Connor asked, glancing at his brother.
“Watts is a fugitive. He wouldn’t risk calling the cops. Besides, they’d be even slower, especially in this weather.” The van stopped outside the historic mansion’s entry. Mercer exited with the handheld thermal imaging camera and pointed it at the building.
“Let’s see where you’re hiding, Watts.” He crunched through the thick snow along the front of the building until a heat signal displayed on his screen.
“Gotcha!” Mercer keyed his radio. “Target in second-floor front bedroom. Connor, Brick, on me.” He slapped the camera into Brick’s hand, gesturing to the remaining men with hand signals to circle around and enter from the other side. The figures soon disappeared into the blizzard.
