Page 25 of Echo: Burn
"The Committee," I finish.
"Yeah. And Kane? He's not alone. I'm picking up four more signatures moving into position around the cabin area. They were hidden in the thermal background, but now that they'readvancing, I can see them. North, east, and west approaches. They're setting up to box in whoever's inside."
Son of a bitch. This wasn't a probe. This was the setup for an ambush. They tracked us to the general area, found the cabin, and now they're moving to surround and eliminate anyone inside.
"All units, weapons free," I order. "Engage at will. Willa, we need to move. Now."
"Where?"
"Back to base. We're too exposed here."
We're already moving when the first shot cracks through the night. Not aimed at us—at Mercer's position. Return fire comes immediately, the distinct crack of his precision rifle punching through the storm.
"Contact north ridge neutralized," Mercer reports. "But I'm taking fire from multiple positions. They've got me bracketed."
"Fall back to secondary position," I order, even as I'm pulling Willa toward the base entrance. "Rourke, status?"
"Two contacts south ridge. Engaging."
The firefight erupts across the mountain. Muzzle flashes strobe through the darkness like lightning. Bullets spark off rocks, whine through the air, punch through trees with wet thunks that sound too much like hitting flesh.
Willa moves beside me, her training evident in how she keeps her muzzle oriented toward threats while maintaining movement. We're twenty meters from the entrance when a figure materializes from the storm to our left.
Training takes over. I fire three controlled bursts center mass. The first figure drops. A second emerges from cover to my left and I pivot, putting two rounds through his chest before he can acquire a target. Willa engages the third, her shots finding home with precision that proves her father's training was solid.
We reach the entrance. I punch in the code one-handed while maintaining rear security. The door slides open and we pour through, Willa first, then me, spinning to check our six one final time before the door seals.
Inside, the sounds of combat are muffled by rock and steel. We're safe for the moment, but safe is relative when professional killers know approximately where you are.
"That wasn't a probe," Willa says, breathing hard. "That was an assault."
"That was a message." I move toward the operations center, already planning our next move. "They're telling us they know you're with us and that they've confirmed the cabin is involved. And they're not going to stop until we're all dead."
The operations center is controlled chaos. Tommy's coordinating the team's withdrawal, tracking enemy positions, monitoring police and EMS channels for any indication this firefight is drawing unwanted attention. Sarah's up despite her injuries, working a second console. Even Khalid’s there, watching with a gaze far older than his years.
"Casualties?" I ask.
"Rourke took a round in the vest. He's pissed but mobile. Mercer's clear. Stryker never saw contact at his position." Tommy pulls up a tactical map. "Five confirmed enemy KIA. Unknown number withdrew when we engaged. They're regrouping, not retreating."
"They'll hit the cabin again," Rourke says, moving into the operations center with his vest hanging open. I can see the deformed plate where the round hit. Center mass. If he hadn't been wearing armor, he'd be dead. "Maybe not tonight, but soon. They know someone's living there. They'll keep probing until they find out who."
"Then we move the timeline up." I look at Willa. "The bait operation. We do it tomorrow. No more waiting."
"Kane...” Stryker starts.
"We're out of time," I cut him off. "Every hour we wait is another hour for them to bring in more assets, to map our defenses, to find a way inside. We go on the offense or we die on defense. Those are the options."
The room goes quiet. Everyone knows I'm right. Everyone also knows what I'm proposing is borderline suicidal. With a final look at one another, we begin to leave the ops center.
"I'll do it," Willa says. "Whatever you need. I'm ready."
My pulse kicks up. Not from the firefight. From the way she's looking at me. Like she trusts me not to get her killed. I should step back. Should maintain the distance that keeps people alive.
"You should get some rest," I tell her. "Tomorrow's going to be long."
"What about you?"
"I don't sleep much."
