Page 157 of One Minute Out

Just after nine p.m., a pair of high-end SUVs turn off the main road, roll up the drive, and stop at a guard position. A minute later they continue forward, until they finally stop again in front of the main house.

The drivers open the rear doors in both vehicles, and four men climb out and head up the steps to the front door. They disappear inside a moment later.

Shep says what I’m thinking. “Johns.”

“Yeah.” If I had a sniper rifle on me I’d be inclined to open up on these bastards, so it’s a good thing I don’t.

I speak softly, knowing how voices can travel on a quiet night. “We’ll do a helo infiltration, concentrate forces on the main building. We secure hostages, and then, hopefully, fight our way back out.”

“Hopefully,” Shep mutters.

“Yeah, I know. Hope isn’t a strategy. But tomorrow night it will definitely have to serve as a tactic.”

Shep nods. “We need two outside to keep the responding forces occupied. I’m old, my knees are pretty shot, but I can snipe. I’ll fly shotgun in the helo and provide air cover; me and Carl will circle the target during the raid. And A.J. can knock the stink off a gnat’s ass from a thousand yards. We’ll put him on that hillock over there on the other side of the canyon; he’ll do his best to keep the guys in the bunkhouse busy.”

I laugh in the dark. “We make it sound so easy.”

Shep spits into the dirt in front of him. “Getting in... not easy, but doable. Getting out... I don’t know.”

“One problem at a time,” I say. Then I ask, “You’re sure Carl can handle this?”

Without hesitation, he says, “He’ll be fine.”

“You met him at the Agency?”

“Nah, he’s been retired since, like forever. He flies that helo at a two-hundred-fifty-acre gun range north of Las Vegas. Weekend warriors go there to shoot targets from the air, and he gives them the ride of their lives.”

“He knows he’s gonna get shot at tomorrow, right?”

Duvall nods. “He knows the mission. Look, you’ve got five guys willing to face death to help save those girls and frag any of those fuckers holding them who try to stop us. Don’t look too deep into the motivations of any one of us, and we’ll try not to think too hard about yours.”

“Fair enough. Have you seen his helo?”

“Sure. Decent little four-seater.”

I take my eye out of the scope and look at Shep. “A four-seater?”

“Yep.”

Confused, I point out the obvious. “You, me, Rodney, Kareem, and A.J. Plus the pilot. That’s six.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Why doesn’t it matter?”

“Because you, A.J., Kareem, and Rodney are riding the skids.”

Shit, I think. What have I gotten myself into? “Says who?”

Shep shrugs. “Carl in the right seat, me in the left. You guys outboard. When we’re about one and a half klicks out, Carl will drop A.J. off, he’ll set up a sniper position, and the rest of us continue on to the target. You can get off those skids faster than you can get out of the cabin of the helo, and the insertion has to be fast and smooth for us to be able to pull this off.”

He’s right, but now I add falling off the side of a helicopter to my death to my long list of things to worry about.

And with that we settle in for another hour or two of recon before returning to Bakersfield.

•••

Ken Cage worked in his home office all morning, beginning at seven, well before his normal start time of nine. Heather was annoyed, but she read his mood, and didn’t push things. She only peeked in once to see if he needed more coffee, and the kids didn’t come in at all.

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