Page 100 of Luck Be Mine
That didn’t make sense. Unless the man wasn’t here or they didn’t want to attract attention to themselves. “Expect company,” Hunt sent to the team. The man had to have guards. They didn’t drop him here and not leave a babysitter. Unless the intelligence was wrong or the man was already dead.
They had the general floor layout from intelligence. The ground floor had offices. Tate wouldn’t be on that floor. They would clear top to bottom.
After a silent climb of the stairwell, they peeled off – Carter, Doogie, Mateo and K-Rock moved to the fourth level, while Brennan, Baxter, and Tommy went with him to search the third.
A maze of hallways looped around in a mass of beige walls and sand-colored linoleum. The halls intersected each other. Several spots led to dead ends. Two by two, they followed separate hallways and checked all doors.
Dark.
“Scout One, No joy.” Doogie’s quiet voice whispered in his ear.
“Copy. No joy here either.” They met in the stairwell.
Hunt shifted his weapon. “Second floor it is.”
Splitting into teams of two to cover the layout more efficiently, they moved fast. Hunt and Brennan maintained a methodical pace, guns drawn, and focus attuned to any noise. Baxter covered their backs and checked anything they missed.
Two men dressed in black appeared.
Brennan on his right fired when Hunt did.
Pop. Pop. Down.
Baxter peered in both directions of the intersection. “LC, light on at the end of the hall.” He moved ahead of them weapon ready, stopping short of the plain brown door with a square window.
Why not turn off the light?
Brennan stopped to check the two men and confiscate any intel.
Hunt joined Baxter and ducked underneath the window, posting on the opposite side.
The smoky glass blocked the view.
Baxter tested the knob. Not locked.
Hunt raised a brow but nodded at Bax.
Counting down three, two, one with his fingers, Bax shoved the door open. Neither of them moved.
Fire hit the wall in front of them. One assault weapon. An AKMS from the sound.
Hunt went low and leaned into the doorway. He needed only a millisecond to separate Tate strapped to a chair from the shooter hiding behind him. Two tight head shots.Over.
The gunshots echoed, then quiet prevailed.
Baxter moved in. The small office space left no room for anyone else, but he did a cursory search.
Hunt rose from the floor and went to the captured man who cringed in the chair. “Ethan Tate?”
Eyes wide, the man nodded vigorously. The tape over his mouth stopped any verbal response.
“Navy SEALS. We’re here to get you home.” Hunt secured his weapon and took out a knife. He sliced through the bonds and peeled the tape off his mouth.
“Room is clear, LC.” Baxter grabbed his radio to report to the team. “Scout Six. Champion.” Package found.
Hunt helped the man stand, then keyed his own radio. “Stallion, this is Scout One. Champion. We are at Buttermilk.” Medical assessment.
“Copy. Note there is movement in the street, coming your direction.” Gregg’s voice stayed calm, yet tense.
