Page 135 of Agency
I couldn’t tell how far away the engine was, but the sound definitely belonged to a full-sized vehicle–not something like a lawn mower or small outboard motor. Larger, maybe diesel, but still distant enough that no headlights showed through the trees.
Could be civilians, could be operatives tied to Management. No way to know for sure from our location. But, at this point, an encounter with either group would be a disaster.
So, we waited. The sound receded into the night less than five minutes later, leaving behind only the chirring of nocturnal insects not yet settling down for deep fall. A quick wave of Ambyr’s hand, and we were back up and marching.
Not much farther now, thank God. I don’t think my knees would have taken much more abuse.
Ten minutes later, we were climbing a relatively low hill and Ambyr was drawing up and raising her left fist as she crept to the top, alone. Her hand went flat and pushed back towards us, and then she dropped and crawled the rest of the way on her belly, breaking the horizon with her smallest possible profile.
Andrew and I settled into crouches, our eyes and weapon barrels seemingly part of the same organ as they swept in unison across the surrounding forest. We were there. Had to be. If there were any time to stay frosty, that time was now.
A wave of Ambyr’s hand brought Andrew and me up. Crawling forward on our bellies, we came abreast of her. She didn’t need to touch her darkly painted face and point down the hill to the squat structures gathered in the clearing at the bottom, but she did anyways. They were so close, I could have thrown a rock and hit the side of the nearest building.
Old training dies hard, though.
Four buildings in a rough semi-circle: double-car garage farthest from us, a work shed of some kind next to that, then a two story cabin with its curtains drawn. Finally a barn, which we knew held its own secrets… All exactly as her aunt’s dossier and files had laid out for us. Exterior lights brightened the scene, but only slightly. A relatively straight, rutted road of brown dirt cut through the trees to the north and made its way into the clearing. There, the road twisted into a slight curve and cut across the front of the structures, before finally terminating at the barn.
Our coms crackled, and Jericho’s voice beamed straight into our ears. “ETA, Bravo?”
“Right here, Alpha.” Ambyr was on coms, since she was leading the op, and her voice was a harsh whisper that sliced like a hunting knife through the forest’s silence.
“Any sign of security?”
“None that we see.”
“Roger that. Stay frosty. All quiet out here, too, but be careful. Something about this doesn’t seem right.”
“Waiting for the other shoe to drop, Alpha?”
“Something like that, Bravo.”
“Going in, Alpha. Better get this over with.”
“Roger. Watch your six.”
“You too.”
Off coms then, she pointed towards the nearest structure, at our two-o’clock. With a few more quick gestures, she laid out our plan. Ambyr and I would hit the cabin and find Management–Andrew would take the USB to the servers and start wiping. We’d provide cover for Andrew’s initial insertion, then strike hard and fast on our own.
Dropping back from the hill’s crest, we circled closer to the barn. Still low, but not crawling this time, we again broke the hill’s horizon and made our way towards the big, rectangular structure. It stood twenty meters away, if that. Which, grand scheme of things, isn’t far. But, when an unseen hostile might be posted up with a rifle trained on your position, twenty meters might as well be twenty kilometers.
First, Ambyr descended to the trees below, with me covering. Then I followed after, with Andrew and she both providing cover from uphill and down. Andrew came down to meet us, so that Ambyr could move forward and cover my advance. Leap frogging our coverage like that, we were within the shadows of the barn’s closest side in no time, using the building cover to screen our movements from the cabin’s view.
Still on point, Ambyr checked the rest of the compound from the barn’s front edge. She made another hand sign. Still no sentries. Still no guards outside. From behind, a hand patted my shoulder three times. I glanced back to Andrew, who was pointing up above our heads. He drew a box in the air with his index finger, and I looked up to see the window he’d just indicated.
Nodding, I turned back to Ambyr and relayed Andrew’s hand signals. She nodded affirmative, and then I was using my laced fingers as stirrups to boost Andrew up and to the window. He shattered the window pane with the butt of his combat hatchet and quickly raked away the remaining shards so that they fell out towards us, rather than inside. Another quick tap on my shoulder, and I was upping-and-overing him through the window and onto the other side.
“Inside, Bravo One,” he said a moment later. “Proceeding.”
“Roger, Bravo Three. Cover is disappearing.”
“Roger that.”
Ambyr and I doubled back down the side of the barn, reaching the rear in a matter of seconds. On point this time, I sliced the pie around the corner and proceeded forward into the gloom in my shooter’s crouch, my knees screaming with every step. I stopped at the corner and dropped to a crouch, but didn’t lower my weapon for a second as I wrapped the dark about me like a warm blanket.
Illuminated by the windows of the seven-meters-distant cabin, this side of the barn was brighter. Upstairs, a light was on. Maybe a small lamp on a nightstand, or a reading light of some kind. Nothing bright enough to be from overhead fixtures, though, unless they’d been dimmed. Downstairs, on the other hand, everything was lit up. Curtains were drawn across the windows nearer to the front of the house, but the kitchen window across from Ambyr and me had its coverings open.
A man with dark, almost black, close-cropped hair, and wide shoulders came into view in the kitchen window, not twenty feet from me. He couldn’t be older than his mid-thirties, but the scars on his weathered, leathery face gave the impression that he’d seen plenty of shit in that time.
