Street Game (46 page)

Clear.
She heard Javier whisper it in her mind.

Mack soared over the fence with ease. His landing was totally silent, an amazing feat for a large, heavily muscled man. Javier moved forward, flanking Jaimie.

Dog coming,
Kane whispered in their minds.

He motioned and the three of them went to the ground, lying prone, knowing Mack had done the same. He was out in the open, a few feet from the guard, but glancing back, he’d disappeared entirely. Jaimie knew Gideon was still lying in the grass, covering them with his rifle, but he was impossible to see at the best of times. She’d bet her last dollar that the Special Ops guard had no idea Gideon was even close to him.

The dog reacted restlessly to their scent. Too much large cat DNA. She’d known even before she’d read their files that Whitney had genetically altered all of her family in various ways. With the way all of them could leap distances, it wasn’t hard to believe that leopard DNA was used. The dog shied away from the courtyard, not wanting to get too close to the dangerous scent. He pulled on the lead so that the handler sharply reprimanded him.

Kane reached, mind to mind, to calm the dog. It wasn’t difficult to penetrate the energy shield around the animal and then push further until he was connected in the brain. The dog settled down and happily walked on through the garden area with his handler.

Jacob Princeton was the last man going in from their team. He could detect a bomb fairly easily, every bit as well as a dog, his enhanced senses enabling him to sniff out the chemicals. He was up and over the fence, moving with Mack to join the others. They moved in single file, careful not to disturb anything, leaving no trace of their passing. They didn’t want so much as a blade of grass crushed beneath their feet. They took great care not to snap off any plants as they moved through the garden toward the back wall of the courtyard.

Jaimie didn’t look around her to see the other members of the team. In the utter pitch blackness of the grounds, it would have been impossible anyway. There was an eerie feel to moving through the drizzling rain, in the darkness without a sound, almost as if they didn’t exist, as if they were the ghosts everyone purported them to be.

A good distance away, Jaimie could see the grounds lit up as the guests poured in. The lights glowed an eerie yellow through the thickening mist and appeared to be far-away UFOs. The mists floated in steadily, here concealing, there revealing broken tails. The fog seemed to have a life of its own, curling around her knees and feet. The ragged bottom edge seemed to rise and lower in unpredictable patterns. The only reference any of the silent stalkers had was their own feet in the wet grass, and the rhythmic call of insects.

Another dog and handler approached, and they all went to ground. Jaimie’s heart thundered in her ears. She felt the disturbance of energy as Kane reached out to the animal. She realized just how cohesive the team was. Each had special talents that allowed them to move like ghosts through an enemy line. All of them were superbly trained in combat and rescue, training daily as a rule, for that one single moment when they had to go into action for real.

The dog kept walking calmly with his handler, passing within three feet of Kane’s body, but the big German shepherd kept its head averted. Jaimie felt the tap on her shoulder and was up and moving fast again. Not running, but moving in at a steady pace. Twice, guards paced parallel to them. Once, they froze, not daring to breathe as two soldiers did a sweep quite close to them.

Jaimie moved through the immaculate expanse of lawn toward the roped-off area where the newest landscaping was allegedly taking place. She paused now and then to sift through the sounds of the night, reading the information, unconsciously seeking touch with the others. The peculiar brush of wings fluttered in her brain. She went still, crouching in the wet grass, one with the night.
Up ahead,
she warned.

Mack’s hand went to her shoulder.
How many?

Kane dropped back to give her the lead. It was up to her to take them through enemy lines without getting caught.

Two.
Jaimie moved forward again toward the mounds of freshly dug soft earth. Rocks were piled everywhere, seemingly at random, but on closer inspection they formed several high walls.

Jaimie crept forward, a slim shadow blending in with the night. One of the guards gave a muffled sneeze. The second guard responded with a low, muttered word of caution. The two men were in the comparative shelter of some boulders. Mack touched her shoulder and she dropped down.

We’ve got Shepherd and Estes,
Mack identified to the team.
Make it count.

Jacob moved up beside him, as silent as a wraith. He tugged at his gloves until he had them off and lifted both palms toward the two men and the foundation of the building.
We’ve got a couple of boomers. They’re definitely wired. Possibly the building. I’ll have to get closer.

Mack signaled Javier and Kane forward. Javier practically slid over Jaimie’s body as he crawled into position. Mack moved as well, putting himself in a better position to cover his two men. Jaimie aimed the tranq gun and waited, her blood a roar in her ears.

Javier and Kane proceeded forward, moving on the ground, shadows within the shadows until they were in plain sight, but within range. Jaimie’s breath caught in her throat when one of the guards—Shepherd—looked right at Kane. Kane didn’t move a muscle and the slight breeze sent another finger of misty rain spraying across the excavated area. Shepherd turned his head toward Estes to say something. He never got the chance. Javier and Kane squeezed the triggers, and the darts hit nearly simultaneously right behind the left ear of Shepherd and the right of Estes. The sentries staggered backward, hands to their necks in reflex, and then slid to the ground in a weirdly choreographed ballet.

Jacob, can you deal with the bombs? I don’t want them waking up early and blowing our Marines up.

Jacob crawled forward until he was leaning over one of the downed guards. Kane retrieved the darts and pocketed them. Jacob began to work, his movements deft and carefully controlled. It took him several minutes of precious time to disarm the bombs both men were wearing around their middles like vests.

Clear.
Jacob pulled back and tugged on his gloves.

Mack tapped Jaimie to signal her back into lead position. She let her breath out. She couldn’t make a mistake. All of their lives depended on her. She should have been quaking, but there was something both undefined and exhilarating to be part of the team again. The men never hesitated, following her without question, believing in her. She’d forgotten what that felt like, the implicit trust of teammates when their lives were in her hands.

Jaimie crawled forward, breathing in the scent of the night, her senses flaring out to check for more sentries. Her energy spread, reached out, seeking more, calling it to her like a magnet. She encountered emptiness.
Clear,
Jaimie hissed in their minds. Certain this time. She was getting a feel for the energy she sent out now, the strength of it, the way it worked. She’d never really known before and, in truth, she’d been afraid to depend on it.

The team members spread out. They were black shadows quartering the ground inch by inch, searching for the entrance to the tunnel. They moved in unison, fitting together easily. Kane and Mack dropped back to Jaimie’s position, their bodies close enough to touch hers. It was a protection from the wind and as much comfort and reassurance as they could give her under the circumstances.

Jaimie was into the rhythm, her finely tuned mind and expertly trained body pushing away all nightmares to allow her to concentrate on the job at hand. To her, that meant protecting the team, making certain they were not caught unaware in a dangerous trap. At any moment, they could be discovered by a wandering marine, or worse, the terrorist unit could go on full alert. She was grateful for the thoughtful way Mack and Kane were treating her, but only one small part of her mind registered it. Everything else was listening, tuning in, waiting for the warning rattles all of their lives were depending on.

Here, boss,
Javier said. The voice was a soft blur in her mind, the tone calm and businesslike.

The mists and fog deepened, thickened, swirling around them, enveloping them. The rain was more a haze, but it seeped into their clothes as they moved up to the large boulder. It had to be moved and this would be the most dangerous moment. There would be noise and the added draft the moment they removed the block from the entrance. The tunnel had been completely filled in. Those digging wouldn’t have excavated deep under the buildings, just enough to hide a small contingency until they could wreak their havoc. She could hear the blood pumping through her veins, a kind of rhythm with the whisper of drizzling mist. Her pulse drummed in time to the soft beat of drops dripping from the sky.

Mack glanced at her again. This was her moment. She had to know, to be certain. Jaimie sent her energy out, seeking again. It bounced like radar along the narrow tunnel walls and then into a wider opening. She nodded and stood clear as he gripped the boulder. The muscles bunched beneath his shirt. She caught a glimpse of strain on his face. She knew ordinarily it would take more than one man to move that large boulder, but he slid it aside just enough for them to slip through.

Kane went first, moving a few feet into the narrow tunnel, and knelt, his weapon up and ready. They knew the terrorists were wired with bombs to blow. They couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. Jaimie shivered in the cold air; adrenaline could keep her only so warm. Jacob and Javier moved back, giving her access to the tunnel. Jaimie had not sensed any hidden alarms, but all of their lives were depending on her built-in radar system. Had some alert terrorist heard them moving the enormous boulder? She crouched in the entrance to the tunnel, narrowing her eyes, peering down the steep stairway as if her vision could pierce the veil of darkness.

From inside she caught the muted sound of music. She started down the tunnel, Mack one step behind her, his pencil flash their only source of light. She knew Mack didn’t need it, but she did. Kane moved ahead of them, halting every few feet and waiting for the hand on his shoulder telling him to proceed. Ten feet down, the tunnel curved sharply and Jaimie’s warning rattles went off in full force. Mack, so close to her, caught her body language, the sudden tension in her, and he was already hissing the warning before she could. His team flattened against the dirt walls, weapons in hand, waiting for the all-clear. They could not take the chance of all of them being caught in such a small area.

Kane was exposed, lying prone on the dirt floor, his weapon extended as he waited for her to make the call. Mack moved with her as she came up behind Kane, pressing herself against the wall while she sent her energy moving forward. Their footsteps were muffled in the thick carpet of soft dirt. Mack touched her arm, signaling her to halt. She stayed behind Kane and closed her eyes, feeling her way through the tunnel. It was unstable, dirt trickling down the walls continually. Occasionally dirt would fall from the ceiling. Breathing wasn’t difficult. Claustrophobia was more of a problem than fear of the terrorists, mainly because the tunnel was so obviously unstable it felt as if it could come down at any moment.

There’s an open entrance just ahead. Two men. They’re fairly relaxed, at least their energy feels that way. Bored maybe. Annoyed.

Can you feel the children?

Waves of fear coming from beyond those two. Very strong. Someone is terrified. I think the kids are alive and in there, Mack.

She didn’t spend a lot of time trying to decipher the fear emanating from down the tunnel, it was more important to make certain she protected her team. Kane stayed in front of her. Mack took the other side of the wall, although there really was little room for both of them. Javier tapped Jaimie’s arm and signaled her to let Jacob go next. If the terrorists were wired, he would have to deal with that particular threat.

Mack produced a small mirror and they slid it along the dirt, rounding the corner so they could see. Seated at a cheap table were two more terrorists. Frank Koit and a man he recognized from the many photographs they’d studied on Doomsday, Jarold Carlyle; two of the most wanted men in a number of countries. Their boss, Armstice, was nowhere to be seen. Drinks and a deck of playing cards sat near their hands. Although they were relaxed, slouched in their seats and obviously bored, Koit continually stroked his gun, a Luger 9mm Parabellum. His fingers lingered almost lovingly along the barrel. Kane and Mack exchanged a long look.

Carlyle picked up the deck of cards and shuffled. Mack caught bits and pieces of the conversation. The two men were speaking rapidly in English, but Carlyle had a heavy accent. The words were punctuated with a great deal of laughter. They seemed to find it very amusing that a party was being held while right under the noses of the Americans they were holding hostages. The two terrorists took turns toasting the superpowers and snickering at the Marine guards.

“It won’t be long,” Koit said. “Another few hours to clear the grounds and get the guards settled down. We want the kids dying in front of the cameras. Blaine will call in the reporters and let us know right when to send them out. I think the little dinner party is only going to add to the condemnation. We should get paid more money.”

“You better hope Armstice keeps those kids alive.” Carlyle gave a worried glance down the narrowing corridor. “He’s a bloodthirsty son of a bitch.”

“I went to school with him,” Koit said. “I can’t tell you how many little old ladies’ cats and dogs he sliced up and left on doorsteps—until he graduated to killing the little old ladies.” He laughed at his own joke.

Mack watched Koit’s long fingers stroking the Luger. He nudged Kane. They’d have to shoot together. Both men were armed. All Koit had to do was lift the gun and fire. His hand was steady as he shot the dart into Koit’s neck. Koit slumped forward onto the table; the hand with the Luger slid in slow motion from his chair to the floor. Mack swore as the gun clattered against the chair frame. He sank into a crouch, the gun in his hand, sweeping the area down the tunnel, every cell alert.