Page 52 of Gatling
“What exactly did you have in mind here?” Tex asked.
“I’m making it up as I go along,” I said, searching the trees for Olson’s security cameras. If we were lucky, we might be able to utilize a blind spot in our favor.
Olson’s car was parked out front. Now that he knew we were here, it would be even tougher to pry him out of that hole in the ground.
And with Kelsie locked inside with him, I had to make sure she didn’t become collateral damage in the process.
Unhooking a grenade from my tac vest, I gave it to Tex.
“Do you know how to use one of these things?”
“You bet your ass I do, brother.”
I took a breath to respond when the screech of a megaphone cut through the stillness.
“You are trespassing on private property," Olson announced. "This is your one and only warning. If you do not leave now, I will open fire.”
I grabbed Tex by his cut, hauling him into the trees for cover. Was Olson bluffing? Did he have artillery mounted out here somewhere that he could control remotely from inside the bunker?
At this point, I wouldn’t doubt it.
Then again, Olson’s weapons of choice so far had been close-range. Blasting me with pepper spray. Holding Kelsie at knife point.
No guns.
I tossed that revelation around in my brain for a moment. It wasn’t solid proof. I couldn’t be sure. And if my gamble didn’t pay off, if Olson actually was armed with a gun—or a whole arsenal of them—it could be a fatal mistake on my part.
Hot Shot came up the road, waving my handheld radio. I gestured for him to stay low.
“Credence did it,” he said when he reached us. “He shut off the video cameras.”
Good. That leveled the playing field somewhat. Olson was blind now. He couldn’t see anything going on outside his bunker. And if he did have remote control guns, he wouldn’t be able to tell where he was shooting.
I rapped my knuckles against Tex’s shoulder and pointed to the bunker.
“At the top of that ridge, there should be an air vent. Pull the pin and jam that grenade into the ground right next to it. Then run like hell. Got it?”
Tex nodded. Skirting along the treeline, he approached the bunker from the side. If Olson looked out from the doorway, Tex would be completely hidden from view.
I dug around in my bag and found my sniper rifle. With well-practiced motions like riding a bike, I assembled the pieces and slotted it against my shoulder.
Calculated wind speed.
Gauged an approximate length of distance.
Slowly, I released my breath.
Tex pulled the pin. Rammed the grenade into the ground. And took off running.
Time seemed to slow. My breath stalled in my throat.
Waiting.
BOOM.
A plume of dirt rose into the air, ten feet high. The bunker’s air vent was obliterated, buried under a mountain of dark earth.
“Holy shit,” Hot Shot whispered in amazement.
