Chapter Three #3
“Shit,” Rex drawled. I heard several spits of the sniper rifle followed by a whole lot of curses.
“Too many civilians blockin’ a clean shot, Captain.
I can’t get a bead on him without riskin’ collateral damage.
” He swore a slew of curses I’d never heard from the Texan…
but it was something about cattle. I held my breath.
“Son-of-a-bitch! He broke into the souvenir shop, and I can no longer see him at height, sir.”
“Good! Smith! You’re up,” Candy ordered. “Subject located in the souvenir/gift shop. You know what you need to do. Make sure that fucker can’t exit the rea—”
His words were cut off as Clifford shouted. “Wait!” He groaned. “Shite!”
“Talk to me, Clifford,” Candy said.
“He’s got a…fuck me! He’s got a hostage, sir. Someone must have been in that shop next door because he grabbed a young Asian girl.”
I glanced at Mickey.
“No doubt the family has an apartment above the store,” he said. “If Gomez has a kid, this thing just got a whole lot worse.”
I glanced at the two men with us. Both stared back with wide eyes. “A kid?” the gray eyed one asked.
I ignored him, looking back at Mickey then at the man again. “Don’t worry. Our men are the best and they’ll protect her with their lives.”
He swallowed hard and nodded.
I knew how he felt, though. Being trapped here, unable to see anything with my own eyes was frustrating.
Knowing what was going on outside only through the eyes of our snipers as they reported the action in our coms, was horrible.
Marines were not trained to sit back and do nothing.
Realizing that a small child and no doubt other family members were in danger, made me sick to my stomach.
“Good? Smith? You in position?”
“In position, sir,” Patsy drawled. “Covering the door to the alley. If he exits through it, I’ve got him.”
“Yes, sir,” Smith sounded off, the deep baritone in his voice more soothing to me than he knew. “Don’t you worry. Irish and I have this.”
“Roger. Watch that back entrance like your lives depend on it. We’re not letting this guy get away.”
“Roger, Captain,” came Patsy’s reply.
I moved closer to the missing window and looked down at the BearCat. Clifford was still lying flat on the roof, staring at the store through his sniper rifle, and Candy was jogging up to it.
“You got him, Marshall?” I heard the question in my earwig.
“Yeah, sir, but the manky bastard has the kid in a headlock, crouched down behind her,” Clifford replied. “Can’t get a clear shot.”
“On my go, put a couple rounds in the wall above his head,” Candy said. “We need to flush him out the back to Good and Smith.”
“Roger.”
I watched Candy climb into the BearCat, his big form impossible to miss as he moved into the driver’s seat and lifted binoculars to his eyes. No more than ten seconds passed before he gave the order.
“Go.”
The muzzle flash from the sniper rifle was instantaneous as Clifford took his shot. Distantly, I heard glass shatter.
“Nice shooting, Marshall. He dropped the kid,” Candy reported. “He’s headed to you, Patsy, Napoleon. Clean up this mess.”
“Will do, Captain,” Napoleon Smith said in the earwig, followed by Patsy’s lilting, “Aye, sir.”
“Hold!” Candy suddenly shouted. “The little girl is running toward the back of the store…and…shit—” I watched as the captain slowly lowered his binoculars.
“I no longer have eyes on her. He probably ordered her to go to him, anticipating someone would be in the alley out back. Napoleon…Patsy…assume he’s got the girl. ”
“I’ll treat her like she’s me own,” Patsy drawled.
I smiled inwardly. Our resident Irishman’s thick brogue was pleasing to the ears, but it was the cool, quiet way he had about him, that always reinforced his commitment to the mission.
He was solid in a firefight and because of his upbringing in Northern Ireland as the eldest of nine siblings, also fiercely protective of the lives of small children.
Only a minute or so passed before I heard a creaking sound as if a door was opening slowly.
I held my breath, exchanging a glance with Mickey who was clearly listening as well.
A second later there was a loud bang, followed by a brief struggle, the cry of a young child, and finally, all sound cut off by an unmistakable gurgle.
“Subject down. Child unharmed,” Patsy reported, slightly out of breath. “Repeat. Gomez is dead, Captain Sorensen.”
I blew out a relieved breath, watching Mickey do the same.
“Well done, Good,” Candy said. “Stay with the child until we have a positive ID on the subject. Turley is coming to you. Smith, you stay with him until the DEA gets there.”
“Yes, sir,” Napoleon replied.
“Hampstead, Way, once you deem it safe, bring those civilians to me. Stay watchful. Turley’s team is still clearing the building.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, looking at the two young men in our custody who were watching us with wide eyes. I offered the barest of smiles. “Come on. It’s time to go. What are your names?”
“I’m Joshua Calder and this is Billy Jenkins,” the taller of the two replied. “Where are we going?” He seemed braver than his crying friend who was huddled close.
“We’re going to talk to my boss. The guy we came here to get is no longer a threat.” I glanced around the room before turning back to them. “I’m positive he’s going to want to know how you two idiots are tangled up in this mess.”
To their credit, they didn’t argue as Mickey and I led them out of the apartment.