Two stands of trees ran along the north and west edges of the property, joining at the northwest corner. Several yards beyond the tree line, down on one knee, Hardy and Natasha peered through their binoculars, scanning the property and the buildings. Natasha whispered, “Snayperskiye komandy odin i dva, otchet – Snipers one and two, report.” After getting their reports, she translated for Hardy. “One of the snipers spotted writing on an upstairs window. Mika and Romana are with Popovich in an upstairs bedroom. There are five confirmed targets, including Popovich.”
“We should expect more.”
She pivoted away from him and whirled back. “We’ve been cleared to move out.”
Hardy lowered his head and touched his forehead, chest, left and right shoulders with the fingertips of his right hand.
Natasha recognized the sign of the cross, a Catholic gesture. “I didn’t think you were the religious type.”
Hardy shrugged. He had seen Special Agent Cruz make the gesture several times, but had no idea what it meant. “I see Cruz do it all the time. I figure it can’t hurt to ask for a little help on this.”
In his spare time, Hardy had been doing research on God, specifically Catholicism and the Catholic Church. Since Cruz was Catholic, he wanted to become more familiar with some of her beliefs. The more he researched the faith, the more he was intrigued with its heritage and long-standing traditions, dating back to Jesus Christ. He came across a passage in the bible in the second book of Timothy that had a reference to being ‘a good soldier of Christ.’ The passage had gotten his attention, but he was not able to read any further. He had made a mental note to re-visit it as soon as he had the time.
Natasha had stationed one sniper in the woods at the northeast corner of the property and one in the woods to the west. From those positions, a good majority of the property could be seen. There were several areas the snipers could not provide cover for Hardy and Natasha; they would have to move cautiously. An FSB team of four men was standing by on the road waiting for the signal to storm the front door. Hardy wanted to make sure Mika and Romana were safe before the team advanced and secured the structures on the property. Not having the advantage of knowing the layout of the house and the enemy contingent, this had to be a covert operation. He did not want to risk Popovich or one of his men getting spooked and putting bullets into the two women.
His face black and dressed in black tactical gear, Hardy emerged from the woods carrying a silenced MP5 rifle, chambered in nine millimeter. In a low crouch, he ran as fast as he could toward the grain silo. He hoped there were no dogs. He had not seen any, but if they were there, then they would sense his arrival. He pressed his back against the silo. Searching the immediate area and making sure there were no sentries anywhere, he signaled Natasha.
She stepped out of the woods, dressed similar to Hardy—black clothing, silenced MP5; it was not her preferred weapon, but she knew how to operate it. Her long hair was tied in a ponytail and tucked under a black tight-fitting knit cap, much like one a burglar would wear. Her face was painted black. Drawing up alongside him, she gulped in breaths of air, wincing in pain. Until now, she had not thought about her back pain. An image of Agent Fuller flashed before her eyes. Idiot.
The night was cold and the sky was overcast. There was no moonlight. Hardy could not see her facial expression, but he had heard the grunt. “Are you okay? Are you sure, you’re up to this? Once we get there, there’s no turning back.”
“I’m fine.” Nothing would keep her from seeing to the safety of her team and capturing Popovich. She nudged him. “Keep going.”
They moved slowly around the radius of the building, Hardy in the lead, until they could go no further without being seen. Natasha contacted sniper two in the woods to the west. She was cleared to continue. Hailing sniper one for a report, she was told to stay put. A guard was coming around on the other side of the silo toward their position. A few seconds later, Natasha gave Hardy the ‘all clear’ sign and they ran to the northwest corner of the garage. Had they had the luxury to look behind them, they would have seen the body of the guard sniper one had shot, sprawled on the ground against the silo.
Hardy and Natasha crept along the west side of the garage, ducking under a window. Her earpiece crackled and she grabbed Hardy’s arm. She relayed the message, but he understood the report from sniper one, without her translation. He nodded his head before hurrying to the southwest corner of the garage, slinging his rifle and removing his Ka-Bar Fighting/Utility knife from its sheath. Even though he carried his Cold Steel Recon 1 tactical knife on a daily basis, for missions like this, he preferred the Ka-Bar. The Ka-Bar was adopted by the United States Marine Corps during World War II, first seeing action in November 1942. Many considered it the best fixed-blade fighting knife available.
The guard rounded the southwest corner of the garage. He yawned, oblivious to anyone else’s presence. The tip of the seven-inch blade pierced his throat, stopping when the stacked leather washer hilt slammed against the soft fleshy part beneath his chin. Even if he had seen the attack coming, his severed vocal cords rendered his ability for speech, null. He was dead before his body went limp in his attacker’s arms, never feeling the blade puncture his chest several times, while he was lowered to the ground.
Hardy dragged the body further north and laid it close to the garage wall. He wiped his knife on the deceased guard’s clothing before sliding it back into its sheath. Moving to the southwest corner of the garage, Hardy indicated to Natasha that he wanted an update from the sniper teams. When she gave him the ‘thumbs up’ sign, he ran toward the back of the house.
Halfway there, he activated a motion-sensing light that had been hidden underneath the eaves. Illuminated by the light, he had no choice but to run as fast as he could to the west side of the house and the darkness beyond the corner. With his eyes adjusted to the black of night, the light obscured his vision. Approaching the house, he did not see the guard come around the southwest corner of the house.
His back to the west wall, Hardy waited for his vision to return to normal. Hearing a noise to his left, he pivoted and shouldered his weapon. A lone figure slid down the wall and came to rest in a heap. He advanced along the west side of the house. The back half of the man’s head was missing, but there was plenty of it splattered on the siding. “Spasibo – Thank you,” Hardy whispered.
“Pozhaluysta – You’re welcome,” said sniper two.
Hardy backtracked and stood at the northwest corner. He asked sniper two for help with the motion-sensing light and waited for the man to get into position. Less than a minute later, the light went dark. Sniper two had brought two silenced weapons. The second was a long-range, twenty-two caliber bolt-action rifle. It was virtually impossible to hear the gun’s rapport. Unless someone was looking at the light when it was struck, anyone would think the light bulb had burned out.
Natasha got the report that no guards were in the area and ran to meet Hardy. She had no time to catch her breath. Hardy signaled and they ran to the back door. They were fast approaching, if not already beyond, the fifteen-minute mark of when Mika and Romana would be expecting them to access the house. The teams had taken longer to get into position. The guard at the garage, and the incident with the motion-sensing light had delayed them further. She had to get to her teammates before they were compelled to use deadly force on Popovich, putting their lives at risk.
Kneeling, Hardy retrieved a small camera on a flexible wand. Natasha squatted and pushed her back against him, providing cover, while he snaked the wand under the door and watched the small screen.
Thirty seconds later, he pulled out the wand out and produced a lock pick gun. Inserting it into the handle, he unlocked the door in seconds. Stowing the gear, he reached behind him and patted Natasha’s hip. She pivoted and readied her MP5. Raising his rifle, he held up three fingers, two fingers and one finger before pointing at her. She quietly pushed the door and Hardy entered, Natasha a step behind.