“In front or around back, sir?” Special Agent Marcus asked as she directed the Suburban toward the power plant.
Mike quickly studied the building and turned to Lance in the backseat. “My guess is there’s a loading dock out back. If these guys are here, we want to surprise ’em. I say we split up. Who’s your best shooter?”
“Chaney,” Lance said without hesitation. “Sorry, Champion. It’s true, but only slightly.”
“No worries, boss,” Special Agent Champion said, “but I got him on the demolitions.”
Mike nodded. “Special Agent Marcus, Chaney, and I are going in the front. You and Champion take the back.” He looked at Lance directly and said, “As good as they are, I know you’re better. This balances the teams out.”
“You always were a smart bastard,” Lance said.
“Maybe. Or maybe I just fooled ’em all into making me deputy director,” Mike said, smiling subtly.
“Uh-huh,” Lance responded as the vehicle stopped in front of the enormous building.
It was several hundred feet long, four stories tall, and had no windows that Mike could see. A lone set of solid metal double doors stood sentry at this end. It’s just a giant rectangular box with aluminum siding, Mike thought.
They exited and rallied at the back of the large SUV, weapons drawn. All wore bulletproof vests that announced FBI in large yellow letters.
“Here’s the deal. Unless there’s some other laundry service we don’t know about, whoever stole those vehicles is already inside. We have to assume we have at least two—maybe four—bad guys, possibly with bombs. Treat them as hostile. Take no chances,” Mike said, looking at each member of his ad hoc assault team.
The relief at the resolution of the hostage situation at the MGM Grand Casino had dissipated. Even the young Special Agent Marcus looked fiercely determined. She’s going to be one to reckon with as her career progresses, Mike thought.
“Good. Let’s do this. Radio silent. We link up inside.” He didn’t need to warn them to watch for friendly fire—their level of training would prevent it.
As the team split up, Lance smiled and said, “See you on the back side, brother.”
“Not if I see you first, hombre. Now go,” Mike shot back as Special Agent Lance Foster and Special Agent Jason Champion disappeared around the southeast corner of the building.
———
This is going to be a lot harder than I thought, Mike realized as soon as they passed through the double doors.
The inside of the facility was cavernous, at least the size of a football field. To complicate matters, the power and heating plant was crammed with enormous equipment chained together as part of the power and steam production process. A mechanical amalgamation, it rose toward the ceiling like a group of fettered animals trying to break free through the roof above.
Directly in front of them were two gigantic rectangular machines that obstructed their view of the rest of the plant. At least thirty feet above them, four large cylindrical exhaust stacks pierced the ceiling.
His Glock raised, Mike turned to his team. “Chaney, take point with the M4. Let’s work our way along the exterior wall and avoid this mechanical mess. Use hand signals if you spot anything. Marcus, cover our six.”
“On it, sir,” Special Agent Chaney said, and quickly assumed the lead position.
They moved silently along the wall, working their way toward the rear of the facility. Since the plant wasn’t fully functional, the heavy machinery was operating at a lower capacity, although the hum of turbines still drowned out their every step.
Halfway to the rear of the facility and next to two gigantic flat, cylindrical shapes that looked like enormous, thick flat circles standing on their rims, Special Agent Chaney suddenly stopped and raised his fist in the universal freeze gesture. Mike and Special Agent Marcus halted behind him.
Chaney’s gaze was directed inward and toward the back of the building. With the M4 locked in his shoulder, his eyes forward, and his right hand on the pistol grip, he used his left hand to beckon Mike to him.
The tension escalating, Mike shuffled quietly until he was within breathing space of Special Agent Chaney, who pointed with his free hand.
“Jackpot,” he said quietly.
Mike looked in the direction he indicated, but initially, all he saw was more ductwork and equipment. What the hell does he see?
As if reading his mind, Chaney said in a hushed voice, “Look through it all, about eighty feet away. You’ll see them.”
Mike squinted his eyes, and after a few moments, spotted it. Like a painted optical illusion revealing its hidden picture, the scene materialized before him, the gravity of the situation growing by the second.
Through the tangled metal mess of coils and oddly shaped equipment, two figures in white overalls stood behind two laundry trucks speaking so quietly that their words faded into the machines’ constant hum. The rear doors of one of the trucks were open, and Mike glimpsed several large oil drums—both blue and yellow—packed into the back of the truck. Oh no. It’s Oklahoma City all over again. Probably some kind of fertilizer/fuel combination That’ll take this whole place down.
As if that weren’t horrifying enough, he spotted a pair of legs attached to a prostrate body, facedown on the industrial floor. Motherfuckers, Mike thought. That has to be Matt Stillman.
The sense of purposeful righteousness that had fueled his career coursed through his veins, and in a split second, his decision-making process switched. As much as he wanted to take one of these bastards alive for information—and he still would if they surrendered—what he wanted even more was justice, swift and violent, for the unforgivable act these men had committed. It was simple—they didn’t deserve to live. They’d forfeited their rights to life the second they’d taken Matt Stillman’s.
Mike looked at Tommy Chaney and saw the same fury he felt displayed on the former SEAL’s face. There was only one possible course of action that would satisfy them both.
“Okay, then. We take ’em out. No warnings. I’ll let Marcus know,” Mike said.
“Good,” was all Chaney said.
Mike turned around to tell Special Agent Marcus the plan, only to discover a Chinese man in white overalls twenty feet away pointing a black pistol at the back of her head. He realized his fatal oversight. There were more than two of them, and they sent at least one to maintain security. Fucker must’ve been hiding in all the machinery, and we walked right past him. Mike’s mind raced, and he reacted in the next split second, pulling Special Agent Marcus down and to the left as he tried to raise his Glock. As good as Mike was, he wasn’t fast enough.
Bam!
The echoing shot shattered the silence, accelerating events into overdrive.
The bullet missed Special Agent Marcus as she tumbled to the floor, but Mike felt a searing pain under his right arm as he pulled the trigger on his own weapon.
Bam! Bam!
Special Agent Marcus spun on the floor into a sitting position, her Glock locking on to her would-be killer as she fired.
Red blossoms from both FBI agents’ bullets appeared on the man’s overalls, and he dropped to his knees, the black pistol clattering to the floor.
The look of contempt on the operative’s face was replaced by one of surprised amusement, as if the reality that he’d been shot was somehow funny.
Behind Mike, Special Agent Chaney whirled and his M4 added to the drumbeat of gunfire.
Bam-bam-bam!
Three well-placed bullets took the Chinese shooter’s life—as well as his nose and the back of his head. He fell forward with a sickening wet smack.
“Go!” Mike tried to yell, but he dropped to a knee, the pain in his right side nearly paralyzing him. He felt under his arm with his left hand and discovered the bullet had torn the top edge of the bulletproof vest before entering his body. An inch lower, and I’d have been okay.
“Oh shit!” Chaney said as he realized Mike had been hit. He scrambled over, looking for the wound. “How bad is it?”
“I’ll be fine,” Mike said, gritting the words out through the pain, although he wasn’t so sure. His side was wet and warm with blood. “He got me in the side, above the vest, right as I aimed. Dumb fucking luck.”
Shouts in Chinese erupted from the direction of their objective.
“Go now, because I guarantee all hell’s about to break loose,” Mike said. As if on cue, gunfire erupted from the rear of the power plant.
“Special Agent Marcus will help me, and we’ll be right behind you. Now go!”