TWELVE HOURS LATER...
11:18 P.M.
“Remember, Stockwell,” decked out in tactical clothing and gear from head to toe, including black face paint, a kneeling Jacob slid a sound-suppressed twenty-two caliber Sig Sauer 1911-22 into a thigh rig on his right leg, “this is a rescue op only. No engagement unless absolutely necessary. I want to get in, secure the Innocent, and get out without being detected. They have the numbers, so I’d prefer not to slug it out with them.”
Down on one knee on his nine o’clock, dressed identical to him, her blonde hair covered by a black stocking cap, her face painted black, Stockwell tucked a stray lock under the hat and nodded before double-checking the sound-suppressed nine-millimeter Heckler & Koch MP5 slung across her chest.
Fifty yards ahead of the tree the agents were using for concealment stood the compound’s east-facing fence line. To the northwest of the fence line’s midway point; the two-story main house. To the southwest; the main gate. Like the last time they had been here, patches of the perimeter’s interior were now lit up in a gentle glow. Unlike last time, however, fewer people now moved about the grounds at this late hour, and the tall spotlights were off.
From a shoulder holster under his left armpit, Jacob removed his full-size 357 Coonan and verified its status: 7+1, hammer back, safety on. He holstered the weapon, slipped a small bud into his ear, and activated a transmitter/receiver attached to his vest. “Stockwell, you copy?”
Hearing his voice through her own earbud, she reinserted her Glock 19M into its horizontal holster on her vest and pointed a thumb skyward. “Loud and clear, Jake.”
“All right. Stay low. Stay quiet. And stay on my six.”
Crouching, the agents moved through the woods to the northeast corner of the fence perimeter, took a knee, and waited.
Two minutes later, “We’re good,” Jacob looked up and examined the tall pine he had scaled last night. “Watch my handholds and footholds and follow me.” He grabbed a branch, pushed off, and climbed the tree.
Stockwell slung her MP5 rifle behind her, clutched the same limb he had, and began her ascent.
*******
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER...
After climbing one tree and jumping to two other trees, the second one inside the compound, Jacob and Stockwell had waited another five minutes to make sure their incursion had gone undetected.
“Once I’m on the ground,” he whispered, “and have secured the area, I’ll cover your descent.”
“Copy,” she whispered back.
He got a grip on a branch above him, stretched out a boot, and lowered himself to a branch below.
Stockwell noted where he placed his hands and feet while she kept watch for guards.
The lowest limb left Jacob hanging in midair, his boots five feet from terra firma. He let go, landed with a thump, took cover behind the tree, drew his sound-suppressed Sig Sauer, and waited.
One minute passed.
“All clear, Stockwell. Your turn. Slow and easy.”
Having memorized the path he had taken, Stockwell looked like a monkey that had called this tree his home for the last ten years. She made it to the lowest branch in less time than her teammate had taken.
From his haunches, Jacob holstered his pistol and stood.
She curled hands around the horizontal bough and stretched out her body.
He palmed the sole of her swaying right boot then cupped the crease where her left thigh and butt came together. “I got you, Dee.”
“I thought you’re supposed to woo me before getting a piece of that.”
He cracked a brief smile. “Keep your back straight and let go.”
She let go, expecting to feel her body falling to the ground.
Jacob squeezed her butt and thigh, pressed her right leg to his chest, and guided her boots to the grass in one fluid motion before drawing his Sig Sauer.
She brought her rifle back around and assumed a two-hand hold on the H&K.
They each took a knee near the tree and shot looks in all directions.
“Clear.”
“Clear.”
“Very smooth, Jake. If you ask me, I think we might have a shot at winning this year’s dance competition.”
“If I get to touch your butt, I’ll do whatever you want me—” he tensed.
Having heard the same noise, Stockwell pivoted to meet the source then raised her rifle.
He pushed her gun down, “Too loud,” then holstered his twenty-two while sidestepping right. “Keep the tree between him and you.”
She complied.
Squinting, he zeroed in on the black shape, ten yards away.
Two side-by-side glowing dots drew nearer.
Low growling.
With his right hand, Jacob reached behind him and gripped the all-black Short KA-BAR knife resting in a horizontal sheath on his belt. “Stay still.”
The dog lowered its stance and bolted forward.
Jacob slid out the KA-BAR.
At the four-foot mark, its teeth bared, its mouth open, the ninety-pound brute launched itself toward its victim’s face.
Using the beast’s momentum against it, Jacob leaned away and twisted counterclockwise at the point of attack. Grabbing a mass of fur in his left hand, while thrusting the KA-BAR’s five-and-a-quarter-inch clip point blade upward, into the animal’s throat, he took the dog to the ground, clamped shut its jaws, and sliced hard across the vocal cords, cutting off a yelp.
The black and brown Rottweiler expired a couple ticks later.
Jacob dragged his bloodied knife back and forth along the grass to clean it before returning the weapon to its sheath. Getting to his feet, he stared at his work while shaking his head, his guts twisting inside. Sorry, boy. You left me no choice.
He met Stockwell near the tree.
She eyed the dead dog, a pained expression on her face.
He noticed. “It had to be done.”
She nodded. “I know.”
“When it comes to humans and animals, humans take precedence every time. And our Innocent needs us alive.”
She swallowed, readied her rifle, blew out a quick breath, and forced herself to look away and eyeball the buildings to the south. “Which one is it?”
Jacob pointed at the small cabin he had seen the two girls coming from when he had been in the tree last night. “Third one from the left.”
“And you’re sure that’s where Chrissy is?”
“As sure as I can be.”
“They could’ve been heading back to their own cabin when you saw them.”
Drawing his Sig Sauer twenty-two pistol, “We’ll know soon enough,” he crept toward the abode in question, Stockwell behind him, both operators keeping to the shadows.
∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞
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