Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“Copy.” Zenko took another shot toward the hillside, forcing the sniper to keep his fucking head down while he reached for the iTak device they used to access the ISR feeds.
For fuck’s sake, can we not catch a fucking break?
“Keep that fucker pinned down for a sec, babe. We may have incoming.” He switched on the device and waited for the screen to come alive. “TOC, Ambra One, do you have a live ISR feed?”
“Ambra One, TOC, affirmative.”
Zenko dropped lower behind cover and angled the device so he could see the feed without taking his attention completely off the hillside. Four vehicles were moving fast along the dirt road, maintaining a tight enough formation to make the word convoy pretty fucking accurate.
“How far out are those fuckers?”
“About seven klicks from your location and closing fast, so get your asses moving,” Max warned through comms.
“Roger.” Zenko glanced at Shaun. “Four-vehicle convoy inbound, seven klicks and closing. We need that fucking sniper down so we can move, find Sheridan, and get the hell out of here.”
“Your wish is my command, babe.” Shaun settled more firmly behind his rifle, his attention shifting toward the hillside as another round kicked up dirt near their position.
Zenko watched him track the area through his scope, searching for the shooter they knew was up there but still couldn’t fucking see.
“TOC, Ambra Two, can you confirm the sniper’s position? ”
“Ambra Two, TOC, he’s directly above that flat rock face, over.”
Shaun made a small adjustment to his scope, then went utterly still behind the rifle.
“There you are, fucker.”
The shot cracked out a second later, recoil driving into his shoulder before he settled straight back onto the scope.
“TOC, Ambra Two, how close did I get?”
“Ambra Two, TOC, your last round impacted directly right of his position, less than half a meter.”
“Roger.” Shaun made another adjustment to the scope and steadied his breathing for another shot. Zenko kept his attention divided between the hillside and the ISR feed, watching the four vehicles continue to close while Shaun took the second shot.
The rifle cracked, and Shaun stayed on the scope for another second before reaching for comms.
“TOC, Ambra Two.”
“Ambra Two, TOC, go ahead.”
Shaun stayed on the scope. “TOC, confirm target is down.”
“Ambra Two, TOC, confirmed. Good shot. Target is down. I repeat, target is down.”
Shaun huffed out a relieved breath at the confirmation and finally lifted his head from the scope.
“Nice shooting, babe.” Zenko grinned despite the shitstorm closing in around them. “TOC, Ambra One, do you still have that convoy?” He pushed away from cover the second Shaun was moving with him, both of them heading toward the kitchen while they still had the chance.
“Negative, Ambra One. We lost them when they reached the turnoff for the mountain pass.”
“Could be nothing.” Shaun paused against one side of the doorway to the kitchen building, weapon angled toward the opening.
“Or it could be a kill team coming in to take us out.” He took the opposite side and nudged the door with his boot.
It creaked open under the slight pressure, and he exchanged a look with Shaun before checking the darkness beyond it.
Every door they’d encountered might as well have come with an engraved invitation.
Add the missing workers, the sniper waiting above the compound, and four vehicles disappearing into the mountain pass, and Sheridan being here was looking less likely by the fucking minute.
“TOC, Ambra One.”
“Go ahead, Ambra One.”
“Do you have thermal visual or heat signatures on the target location?” Zenko kept his weapon trained on the kitchen doorway while he waited for Max’s answer. The itch at the back of his neck had gone from annoying to relentless since they’d lost those vehicles.
Do we really want to be caught standing here in fucking Iran when we have no idea where those vehicles went?
“Negative, Ambra One.”
“Damn it.” Zenko swept another look across the kitchen entrance and the surrounding compound. No thermal meant they were still walking into this fucking blind, with the convoy somewhere out there and Sheridan nowhere to be found. “Orders, TOC?”
“Ambra One, TOC. Confirm the site is vacant, then get your asses to the extraction point,” Max instructed.
He really hadn’t expected a different order, but damn it, his Spidey senses had been going batshit since Max told him about those vehicles. Clearing the last two buildings without knowing where the hell that convoy had disappeared to wasn’t doing anything to settle them.
“TOC, Ambra One, can you retrace that convoy and find where they disappeared?”
“Ambra One, TOC, affirmative, but it’s going to take more than a hot minute to get a result,” Max warned. “In case you missed it, we’re working with limited resources.”
“Copy.” Zenko exchanged a glance with Shaun.
He didn’t need to explain the problem. The slight shrug he got in return before Shaun brought his weapon back to ready told him they were on the same page.
They had their orders, and standing around debating how risky they were wasn’t going to make the missing convoy reappear.
Zenko signaled them forward toward the kitchen.
After that, they had the storage shed to clear, and then they could get the fuck out of this shithole.
They fell automatically into a routine as they worked their way around the edge of the open space, Zenko covering their front and right while Shaun took the left and watched their six.
They stayed close to the buildings wherever possible, moving in the shadows and using every patch of dead ground the compound gave them to keep themselves out of sight as they closed on the kitchen.
Zenko held up his fist and went still, straining to catch whatever had snagged his attention beneath the distant hum of machinery. He’d heard something. Shaun froze beside him, and for several seconds neither of them moved while Zenko listened for it again.
Nothing.
He scanned the courtyard, found no movement, then finally motioned Shaun forward. They had barely taken another step when the sound came again, faint enough that he couldn’t place where the fuck it was coming from. His fist went straight back up.
This time, when Shaun looked at him, Zenko pointed to his ear and mouthed, “Did you hear that?”
Shaun shook his head, and Zenko frowned as the sound reached him again.
There. A low hum, different from the machinery behind them and getting easier to separate from the background noise.
What the fuck is that?
He double-clicked his comms unit, their prearranged signal that he needed intel but wasn’t in a position to speak. Max and Noble would know something had tripped his instincts and start checking the body-cam and drone feeds for whatever the fuck he couldn’t see from the ground.
A single click answered his signal, letting Zenko know TOC had seen the alert and was waiting for him to clear them to speak. Before he could respond, Noble broke the silence.
“Ambra One, Eagle, abort.” Noble’s voice was barely above a murmur, and the urgency beneath it sent Zenko’s Spidey senses straight from batshit to fucking apocalyptic.
“I repeat, abort immediately. One, you have incoming from the storage shed. There must be a tunnel. We’ve counted four vehicles exiting the building so far. ”
“Fuck.” Four vehicles. Even if they were only carrying four men apiece, that potentially put sixteen tangos between them and the way out, and Zenko had no intention of hanging around to find out whether the fuckers had packed in more. Noble was right to call it.
“Eagle, Ambra One, copy. Aborting.”
He swept the courtyard again, searching for another way out.
A vehicle sat half-hidden in the shadow of the building across from them, too far away to tell whether it was a car or a truck.
Either way, it had wheels, and right now that made it their best option.
He nudged Shaun and pointed toward it, then traced the open ground they would have to cross with two fingers.
“Kill box to get there. Agree?” he whispered.
“Four vehicles confirmed. One, get your asses in gear.”
Shaun’s attention flicked toward the storage shed before returning to the exposed ground between them and the vehicle. “Abso-fucking-lutely, kill box,” he whispered back.
Zenko held up three fingers and began the silent countdown.
Three. Two. One.
They broke cover together and moved fast across the open ground, weapons up as they covered their respective sectors.
At any second, one of those four vehicles could come around the corner of the kitchen building and catch them with nowhere to go.
If that happened before they reached the vehicle, they were fucked.
Ducking beneath the low roof, Zenko went right while Shaun broke left, both of them clearing around the vehicle before meeting at the cab.
Up close, the thing turned out to be an old, battered Russian military transport truck, complete with a canvas-covered bed that looked as though it had survived several fucking wars.
Zenko reached cautiously for the passenger-side handle, hoping like hell nobody had decided to booby-trap the damn thing.
Because blowing ourselves up would really put the fucking cherry on top of this mission.
“Ambra One, TOC, they’re searching the building near your entry point. They’ve found and removed three of your charges so far.”
FUCK. Well, that confirms we have a leak, a mole, or a fucking traitor.
“Copy.” Zenko cautiously pulled the handle, holding his breath until the door swung open so easily it almost caught him in the fucking forehead.
No explosion. No alarm. He’d take the win.
He climbed into the passenger seat as Shaun slid behind the wheel and immediately disappeared beneath the dash, reaching for the wiring.