Chapter 14 #2
He found tire tracks in the dirt near the north corner of the farmhouse. Two vehicles. Deep tread marks in the soft earth. Both gone.
He’d counted six voices initially. Five were dead. Only one man left, the leader.
Had one abandoned the field at the outset and the leader before he finished the job?
They’d been poorly trained, but well-equipped fighters. Flint’s instinct said the leader, at least, would not have retreated to return and report such a colossal mission failure.
He studied the tree line until he found it.
Dense woods maybe a hundred yards from the farmhouse. Perfect overwatch position for a sniper with a long-range rifle.
The shadows under the trees were deep enough to hide a dozen men, if that many were involved. Too much cover for his comfort.
A gunshot came from the overwatch position exactly where he’d expected.
He saw a bright muzzle flash in the shadows.
The high-velocity round zinged past his head.
Close enough to feel the pressure wave.
Flint dove behind a concrete foundation wall to avoid the next shots. Rough cement scraped his palms and his face when he hit the ground.
“Sorry. Missed,” a voice called from the woods. “Won’t happen again.”
Probably the leader and the one who reported to the boss. He’d stayed behind to finish the job after Flint took out his team. Which meant failure was not an option.
“You killed five of my men, Flint,” the sniper called out. “As a professional courtesy, I’ll make this quick.”
So they knew his name.
What else did they know?
And why did they want him dead?
No time to figure that out at the moment, but the questions bumped up a few rungs on his mental priority list.
Flint low-crawled along the farmhouse foundation. Concrete blocks provided decent cover. They were old and weathered and thick enough to stop rifle rounds.
He worked his way toward the woods gradually closing the distance. Gravel bit into his knees and elbows, but he moved carefully and didn’t rush.
The sniper fired twice more. Both shots hit the wall close enough to shower Flint with debris.
Flint registered the marksmanship, which was not quite good enough.
More sniper bullets followed and sent shock waves through the foundation blocks.
“You’re making this harder than it needs to be,” the sniper called out.
Flint said nothing. He reached the tree line and moved into better cover.
Pine needles carpeted the forest floor and muffled his footsteps. The canopy overhead blocked most of the remaining daylight.
All of which was more than okay. Flint was now invisible to the rifle scope.
The predictable sniper would relocate or risk being flanked.
Flint caught a glimpse of his gear as the sniper moved deeper into the forest. He was no more than a shadow among shadows now, but not quite silent enough.
The cat and mouse chase through dense timber lasted several minutes.
Flint followed broken branches and disturbed ground. Boot prints in soft earth. Scuff marks on tree bark. He advanced steadily toward his target.
The sniper was good. He’d probably have finished second or third in competitions. Which were not at all the same as active field conditions.
Flint located the sniper setting up a new position behind a fallen log, hyper focused on his scope adjustment.
He never heard Flint coming through the trees until it was too late. Flint had a clear sight line to his target.
The sniper whipped around, attempting to aim the rifle.
Flint shot first.
Two quick bullets.
Sniper down.
Sixth of six.
Flint hustled to secure the area. He checked each body to confirm.
No survivors. Which was more than okay.
No wounded to question or treat. Which was definitely not okay. Not even remotely.
Because Flint still had no idea who these men were, who had hired them, or why they were tracking him.
He collected the weapons and gear, confirming again that their hardware was expensive, new, and well-maintained.
With the weapons under his control now, he fruitlessly searched the bodies. None had identification or anything to indicate who hired them or why.
Their equipment cost serious money and some of it couldn’t be purchased without high-level government connections. Which were easy enough to come by.
Meaning the mere existence of the equipment was not enough to supply a solid lead.
They’d driven here together. Where were their vehicles? They couldn’t be far away. He gathered the weapons and ammunition and started out.
Flint didn’t need to go far. He found two black SUVs parked on a logging road half a mile from the farmhouse. Texas plates. Half-full fuel tanks.
“Mystery solved,” he said aloud. The second SUV must have been moved here before the firefight. There was no evidence of additional men.
A quick search of the SUV interiors revealed high-tech communications equipment stored in the center consoles.
Both vehicles were armored and equipped for surveillance operations. Bulletproof glass and run-flat tires. Highly specialized communications.
He disabled one SUV and transferred the confiscated equipment to the lead vehicle.
Then he did the same for his own gear.
He settled in behind the wheel of their SUV, which was better equipped for what might lie ahead, and left his damaged vehicle behind.
Flint tried his encrypted satellite phone. Signal restored. As he’d suspected, they’d used a signal jammer to block his calls earlier. The phone felt solid and familiar in his hands after too much of the wrong kind of silence.
He called Drake.
“I’ve been trying to reach you for an hour,” Drake said when he picked up.
“I was busy,” Flint replied. “What’s your status?”
“Illinois adoption records are sealed tight, but I found a work-around. Give me a little time and I’ll have the new names and addresses for all three Fisher kids.”
“We don’t have much time.”
“What happened?”
“They sent six men to kill me. Strong team.”
Drake paused. “You sure they’re all down?”
“Reasonably. But they were jamming communications. They knew exactly who and where I was.”
“Meaning we’ve got a leak,” Drake said. “Assume they’re monitoring everything.”
“Whatever we’re getting close to, they’ll kill to protect it.”
“I’ll have the new names for the Fisher kids in a few hours. Maybe they will give us better intel. Where are you now?”
“Still on the road,” Flint said as he wound his way along a dirt trail to the main drive. “Watch your back. They might come for you next.”
“Copy that. And Flint?”
“Yeah?”
“Six men against one. That’s some serious opposition,” Drake warned solemnly.
“So don’t dawdle and keep in touch,” Flint agreed as he disconnected.