“Wait one more minute,” Laz’s voice enters my ear. Hearing his calm, deep voice helps me breathe. “The right time will come.”
“We don’t have time to sit and wait,” Cooper hisses.
“Un minuto,” Laz repeats. “Un minuto.”
Cooper sighs in my ear as we watch the guard pace. After a minute, his steps slow, his stride narrows, and his weapon looks heavier in his hands. When he reaches the front of the barn, his hand wraps around the wall. He peers at the guard on the other side, then ducks back around. My eyes stay glued to him. Put it down. Put it down. Put it down, I silently beg. The faithful soldier looks around once more before his shoulders slump and his puffed-out chest caves in. I release the breath I’ve been holding as he leans his weapon against his leg, digs into his pocket, and pulls out a cigarette. The light from a match flickers around his face, smoke rises from his lips, and just like that, the good soldier lets down his guard.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Move in. Now,” Cooper says into my earpiece.
The cameras on their helmets bounce ever so slightly as they creep toward the barn. Each step they take is delicate, careful not to crack a stick or rustle the weeds and grass. The light positioned at each side of the barn plays to our advantage. The guards can only see directly in front of them. They’re practically blind to the team hiding in the field.
Luke and I watch the team move quickly and quietly, one right behind the other, crouched low to the ground, the weeds still covering most of their bodies. My heart picks up speed with each yard they cover. Forty yards away. Thirty yards away. At twenty yards away they pause. I turn my attention back to the guard. He lifts his cigarette to his mouth and sucks in the tobacco. He holds the smoke in his lungs and tilts his head toward the sky. A line of smoke billows from his lips and rises in the air, separating and then dissipating a few feet above his head.
“Hurry, he’s almost done with that cigarette,” I say as I watch him pull the cigarette back up to his lips. A puff more and he’ll be at the filter. Then the gun will be back in his hand and our one shot of taking him down without a fight will be lost.
“We see, Reagan,” Laz’s voice says in my ears. My shot of the bodyguard disappears. I hear the grass rustle in my ear. They’re on their stomachs, watching their prey, waiting to strike.
“This is still not a good angle,” Sam whispers and my earpiece cracks and pops. “He’s going to see us coming, cigarette or gun in hand. We have to take him down from here.”
“Sam’s right,” Luke says next to me. “He’s going to see you guys coming no matter what.”
“Take him down, Cooper. Let’s hope he falls to the right and not the left,” I say. I study the guard’s position. If he’s shot in the head and falls to the right, the other guards will have no idea. If he falls to the left, he’s close enough to the front of the barn that the other guard may see him fall forward and know we’re here. But it’s a risk we have to take.
“Do it,” I say and reach for the M4 at my side. “Now.”
The grass rustles in my ear as Cooper rises from his hiding spot and lifts the gun to his shoulder. I turn my attention back to the guard. Please fall to the right. Please fall to the right. He takes one last drag of his cigarette, flicks the last bit of burning ash onto the ground, and leans down to his right to pick up his gun. Then I hear it. The stifled pop of a M4 carbine. The bullet whizzes through the air and strikes the guard square in the temple. Blood rushes out of his ear and pours down his face as he falls to the ground. To the right, thank God.
I press my lips into a relieved “O” and allow the breath I’ve been holding to escape.
“Three guards to go,” Sam says, her voice hushed and steady. “Cooper, you take the back. Laz and I will take the front and then the three of us will attack from both sides on the north side of the barn. We go on my count. Ready?”
“Let’s do this,” Laz says. I can hear small metallic pops and cracks through my earpiece as they all ready their weapons to shoot.
“Eduardo, Luke, Reagan, we’ll give you a signal when we’ve got Jonathan and Elizabeth,” Sam whispers. “Then you come immediately to us, but not a minute before that, you got me?”
“Got it,” I say, my mouth struggling to push out the words, adrenaline strangling my vocal cords. I climb onto my knees and stare at the dead guard on my monitor. Even through the thermal cameras, I can make out the bloodstains on the ground beneath him. His gun is still in his hand.