Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Pain.
Strumming up through Neve’s temples, adding to the high-pitched ringing in her head. Metal wire slid beneath her palms, a sense of weightlessness making her stomach roil.
She turned, nearly cold-cocked Wynn as the other woman shifted in the tight space, blinking her eyelids open. Neve looked around, the events rushing back with bone-chilling clarity.
The counterweight shifting suddenly. The cable jumping off the track.
Everything spinning and dropping before violently jerking to a stop, slamming them both against the metal cage. There’d been a thunderous boom, dust and debris clouding up around them before everything had settled into a lethal silence.
Wynn groaned, palming her head as she looked around. “This doesn’t seem good.”
Neve shook her head, inhaling when the small motion shook through the lift. “We need to stay very still until I work out what the hell we’re gonna do.”
Wynn nodded, still holding her head when a blinding yellow light lit up the cage, the brightness spiking a jolt of pain through Neve’s head. She raised her arm, tried to block it out as a crack sounded in the distance, the resulting ping clanging off the metal.
She turned, covered Wynn as a second shot hit the frame, ricochetting into the cable, cutting through a few of the strands with a terrifying snap.
The lift jerked, started swinging in a three-foot arc, a heavy groan moaning through the cable with every rotation.
She tried to reach for her sidearm when the light flickered, then died, everything descending into utter blackness.
Neve took a breath, steadied herself, then slowly balanced her weight. She grabbed the latch, waiting until the cage was on a backward arc before flipping it up and easing it open. The hinges protested, an answered gunshot whizzing past their heads and she knew they either escaped or died.
She glanced over her shoulder at Wynn. “I’ve got a plan.”
Wynn coughed. “Am I going to like it?”
“Probably not, but…” She inhaled when the cable slipped again, the ear-piercing shriek grating on her nerves. “We’re running out of time. I know Coulter’s on his way, but we’re either going to fall or get picked off by whoever’s behind the scope.”
“Just tell me what you need me to do.”
Neve glanced out the open door, judging the oscillation. “See that catwalk? It’s only about four feet away when the lift spins towards it. I’m going to brace my weight, then jump. As soon as I push off, you’ll need to spread out, try to keep the cage from shifting too much, dislodging it more.”
Wynn inhaled, her face bathed in that eerie green light from the night vision. “Neve, I’m not sure—”
“You can do it. And I’ll be on the other side to grab you if you miss. Promise.”
“Right. You’ll just snatch me out of thin air.”
“Air’s actually feeling pretty thick.” She squeezed Wynn’s hand. “Just pretend we’re only a few feet off the ground.”
“Ignore the gaping black chasm beneath me. Got it.”
“We’ll be fine…” Neve curled over Wynn when that asshole took another shot. “Ready?”
“Let’s do this.”
The cage made another circle, each rotation slowly winding in on itself, and Neve knew if they didn’t go now, they’d never make the jump.
She eased forward, using a full rotation to position herself at the door, torn between wanting to maintain a bit of cover from the sniper but needing to be on the edge by the time it rolled around.
She clutched the outside of the frame, shifting her weight onto the balls of her feet as Wynn countered her movements, spreading her feet wider across the bottom.
The lift arced around, that gap looking like a chasm she couldn’t jump when it swung in close, the door creaking in the wind.
A pause, then she pushed off, launching herself at the railing, breath held, the cold wind cutting across her face. She hit the upper section chest high, ribs crunching, knocking the wind out of her as she wrapped her arms over the smooth metal, finally dragging her body up and over the side.
The grating clanged beneath her boots, her lungs taking a while before she sucked in a breath, got everything working again. The cable slipped another foot, more strands shearing from the strain.
Wynn stood in the middle, fingers clamped around the wire frame, eyes wide.
She didn’t move for a couple rotations before finally sliding forward, keeping her weight centered over the bottom.
She copied Neve’s approach, wrapping her hands around the outer frame, the toes of her boots hanging off the front edge.
She braced herself, missed the first opportunity, but launched out the opening on the second, arms stretched out, her hands clawing at the air.
One boot slid off the edge, ruining her momentum and robbing her of that final foot.
Neve reached out, catching her wrist as she swung against the rail, boots kicking at nothing, the weight of her med kit pulling her down.
Neve’s shoulder screamed, close to slipping out of the socket when she managed to grab the handle on the back of Wynn’s vest, yanking her up and over the rail.
They fell onto the grating.
Adrenaline coursed through her veins, every sense dialed up to eleven. Just like after Fraser only sharper.
She hauled Wynn to her feet, grabbed her hand when the cage rattled, the cable finally slipping free.
It fell, smashing into the pit floor with a massive, echoing crash that clenched her stomach.
If they hadn’t already announced their location, the sound would have every soldier in the complex zeroed in on them.
Her cue to move — shove Wynn toward the section joining the second tier as flashlights and IR beams swept the face.
Neve hit the rocky bench running flat out, Wynn keeping pace behind her, their boots kicking up mud and stones as they headed for the mock urban training grounds — an eerie collection of plywood and shipping container structures laid out in a labyrinth to simulate close quarters battle training.
They wove through the buildings, avoiding the ones without roofs or doors, finally opting for a modified container that hung several feet off the edge of the granite face, offering hard cover and views of the cliff and parts of the upper level.
The interior reeked of leaching rust and accumulated sweat, and what looked like dried puddles of blood stained across the floor.
Neve moved through the main section then up to the top floor, blocking off the stairs with a set of metal doors. A large catwalk linked this container to the one beside it, a side-chute leading to a higher platform.
Wynn stood next to one of the windows, staring into the darkness. “There’re more flashlights and IR beams above and below us. Looks like maybe five men.”
Neve removed her sniper rifle, set up next to Wynn. “Coulter will be somewhere on those ladders, trying to reach us. Zero cover. Zero backup. And I have a bad feeling we’re not the only one who’s anticipating that.”
She removed her goggles, settled the IR scope to her left eye. “Come on, baby. Where are you?”
The cliff lit up in shades of black and white, a nice contrast to the older green hue she’d just been using, as she panned along the side of the quarry. But the rain scattered the ambient light, reducing her visibility to half of what she’d normally have.
She retrieved a thermal optic from the side pouch of her vest, zeroing in on objects with it before matching it with her scope — hoping the combined effort would identify Coulter from the other men.
It took her a minute to locate him scaling one of the maintenance ladders, rifle slung over his shoulder, no chance at defending himself without stopping first to draw his Sig.
She repeated her search, identifying three men moving across the pit floor, angling toward the base of the same ladder with another two on the upper level, muzzles flashing in the night as they started up suppressive fire, trying to pick off Coulter.
She went back to her scope, using the trees at the edge of the forest to gauge wind speed and direction, making the necessary adjustments before sealing the scope to her eye again, settling in.
She panned to the quarry floor, picking up the lead gunman as he reached the ladder, aiming his rifle up its length.
A breath, then her finger compressing the trigger, the round dropped the guy a second later. His buddies froze, going to ground, their silhouettes vanishing behind solid cover.
The men at the top kept firing, the bullets shearing off the rails in a trail of sparks. She shifted, adjusted for the new angle and distance, then fired again, hitting the guy closest to her, knocking him back.
His buddy rolled out of sight, vanishing into the darkness, but she knew he’d set up another nest. One he thought would protect him from her. That, next time, she wouldn’t have the advantage.
She pushed the thought aside. At least, she’d bought Coulter some time.
Cleared a path. Until shots stitched across the rock face, chewing through granite and sparking off the metal ladder.
She panned up, caught a flash of muzzle fire above her, from a platform similar to hers, the steel girders supporting the weight blocking any kind of quality shot.
Unlike the open field they had down the cliff, putting Coulter in a virtual kill box.
They hadn’t located him yet, the rain likely messing with their scope the way it had with hers, but it was only a matter of time.
Once he reached the next junction, rose above the fog slowly creeping up the wall, the rain wouldn’t be enough to hide him.
And climbing and firing wasn’t an option.
Not with how rickety the ladder system was.
How it looked as if a strong wind would blow it off the side.
She studied the adjoining catwalk. If she moved onto the metal grating, took up a position thirty feet out, she’d have a chance.