Ryder didn’t respond, and Zane knew his boss was thinking, we’ll see, but facts were facts. Sure, there were a whole lot of people who wanted the science percolating in Humbolt’s genius mind, another bunch who’d like to see him dead, but the ones who mattered just wanted him back in the States alive and in one piece.
Time ticked by slowly in the oppressive early morning heat. Zane could all but feel the adrenaline from his teammates stationed around the compound. And though he tried to stay focused as he waited, he couldn’t stop his mind from drifting back to the last time he’d worked with Carter. To being stuck in that run-down apartment in Beirut he’d shared with Carter and Juliet. To the months of running surveillance, blending in, fighting back the boredom. To the nights he’d been alone with Juliet when Carter had been out. To the laughs, the looks, the heated moments that never should have happened.
“Jesus,” he whispered. “You are such a fucking moron.”
“You say something?” Hedley piped in his ear.
Shit, he was talking to himself. He cleared his throat, peered through the scope again, and put all thoughts of Juliet out of his mind for good. “Remember, boys,” he said. “Slow is smooth. Smooth is fast.”
“Ooh-rah,” Landon Miller murmured, the only communication the former Marine had uttered since they’d set up the perimeter.
As the team went black, Zane said a quick prayer they’d be in and out in seconds rather than minutes or hours. Said another that no one got dead.
He shifted his finger from guard to trigger. Lined up the compound sentry in his crosshairs. And just as the last second passed on his watch, he fired once, killing the south end sentry with a barely audible pop. On the north end, he was confident Ryder had just accomplished the same.
He was out of the tree and across the wall before the sentry’s body hit the ground, rappelling the cement structure as quickly as possible and bracing his rifle against his shoulder as he crossed the dew-covered grass. At the southwest corner of the compound, he caught up with Hedley’s group coming in from the side and pointed up, signaling the hostage room they’d identified earlier on the second floor.
Miller and Stone tossed ropes up and over the second story balcony, the grappling hooks catching the balustrade and securing tight. Zane followed Hedley to the second floor, waiting in silence as the other two men climbed up and over the railing. As a silent unit, they made their way across the balcony and lined up outside the hostage room.
Hedley signaled with his finger, counted to three, then pulled an M84 flash grenade from his pack. When he got the nod from Hedley, Zane used his rifle to blow open the door of the compound. Hedley jerked the pin from his grenade and tossed it into the room.
A roar shook the building and echoed through the darkness, followed by a blinding flash of light, intended to disorient those inside.
Zane was the first through the door, sweeping the right side of the room with his gun. Hedley came in on his tail, scanning the left while Miller and Stone followed through the middle zone. Shouts echoed around them. Zane caught sight of two hostages, tied in chairs in the center of the room, then the tangos, two on the right, one on the left, all three scrambling for weapons in their confusion.
He fired two double-taps, shifted his weapon to the second target, and fired again. The shots hit dead center in the chest, dropping the captors with quick pops. “Clear right,” he said into his shoulder.
To his left, he heard two more pops and saw the last captor go down. “Clear left,” Hedley echoed in his earpiece.
“All clear,” Miller followed from the middle of the room.
“Who’s there?” The man in the chair turned his head from side to side, his vision obstructed by a black bandana tied at the back of his head
“The cavalry.” Zane yanked the blindfold from Humbolt’s head. The man blinked several times. He was thin from weeks in captivity, and he looked like he’d taken a major beating. Bruises and dried blood covered one whole side of his face.
In the chair beside him, the brunette vibrated with fear. Zane shot her a look and then refocused on the job at hand. “Mr. Humbolt, we’re here to get you out.”
“Thank God,” Humbolt breathed.
Hedley cut the hostages’ ties while Zane and the other two got them to their feet.
“How did you find us?” the woman asked in a shaky voice as Zane ushered her toward the door. She didn’t look much steadier on her feet than Humbolt, but at least she wasn’t black and blue.
Zane didn’t know who she was, but there’d be plenty of time for intros later. “We’ll fill you in once we’re secure. Right now just focus on keeping up.”
The woman nodded, and Zane glanced at his watch. Time from start of op to apprehension of hostages: Three minutes, thirty-seven seconds.
They were ahead of schedule.
“We’re on our way out,” he said into his com unit. “Plus two.”
“Roger that,” Ryder echoed back.