Chapter 39
Per the plan, Parker’s men took out the four exterior guards first, then split into two groups. A pair of men made their way quickly to the generator, while the remaining three, which included Frank, headed to the power line pole at the far end of Barrington’s property.
As the first group disabled the emergency power system, the second used a portable hydraulic cable cutter to chop through the power cable. On a normal night, the noise the device made would have been enough to draw attention, but the roaring downpour provided the perfect cover.
“Power severed,” Frank radioed.
This was old news. Parker had watched the lights at the house cut out moments earlier.
He toggled on his mic. “Generator?”
“Permanently offline,” another voice reported.
“Proceed.”
Parker could just about make out the shadowy shapes of the men who’d handled the generator heading to the garage. Their new task was to search the building and eliminate anyone inside.
The three who’d dealt with the power line were out of sight, heading toward the guesthouse to do the same.
Once the teams finished, they were to meet Parker at the back of the main house.
Glancing at the Russian, he said, “Stay close,” and exited the trees in a crouch.
By the time Ed reached the place where he’d spotted the men, the rain had already obliterated most of their tracks.
He followed the remaining traces for a couple hundred yards before they vanished completely. Still, it was enough to confirm they were indeed heading toward Stone’s place.
He decided to take a path that would put him closer to the front of the property, hoping from there he’d be able to see where the others had gone.
He picked his way carefully through the woods, keeping each step as quiet as possible. He’d be little help if the intruders realized he was behind them.
Finally, he caught sight of light coming from Stone’s house ahead. Before he made it another ten steps, however, the house went dark.
He cursed under his breath, sure that the power outage wasn’t the storm’s doing.
He sacrificed a bit of stealth and picked up his pace, not stopping until he reached the edge of the open area surrounding the property.
He scanned Stone’s property. Not a soul in sight.
That was a problem. He should have seen at least one or two members of the CIA team that had been on watch since shortly after Felicity’s arrival.
What Ed did see was the open side door to the garage.
If he’d been the one planning a raid on Stone’s house, the first thing he’d do was check for potential hostiles in the guest house and garage apartment.
Staying low, he moved along the stone wall at the front of the property, getting closer to the garage.
When he reached the front gate, he came to a quick stop.
Lying in a puddle beside the driveway was the body of a CIA guard. He crouched beside the man to check for a pulse but realized there was no need. The man’s throat had been slashed, and his eyes stared blankly at the cloudy night sky.
Ed shut the man’s eyelids, then continued along the fence until he was as close to the garage as he could get. He checked around again to make sure he wasn’t being watched, then he sprinted to the back of the building.
No shots rang out, which he took for a good sign.
He peeked around the corner. The open door was ten feet away. He moved to the jamb and, after hearing nothing from the other side, slipped through the doorway.
The entryway was a small room with stairs on the left, leading up to the apartment, and a door to the right to the garage proper.
He took the stairs, moving as fast and silently as he could. At the top was the door to the apartment. It was closed but unlocked.
After he eased it open, he could hear movement somewhere on the other side. He made his way through the small living room and into the hall from where the noise had come.
There were only three doors—two for bedrooms and one for a bathroom. All three were open.
A hushed whisper came from the farthest bedroom.
Ed checked the other two rooms as he passed. Both were empty.
He carefully laid his shotgun on the floor beside the final doorway, then raised his pistol and stepped into the room.
The room had two beds. One was empty, and on the other was a man who looked to be asleep. Standing beside the bed were two men, one of whom was pointing a gun at the sleeping man’s head.
Knowing he could not waste a second, Ed pulled his trigger. The bullet struck the man in the shoulder at the same moment he pulled his own trigger, causing his shot to hit the headboard instead of his intended victim.
Though both shots had passed through silencers, there was still enough noise that the CIA agent’s eyes fluttered open. Before he could react, the injured man tumbled onto him.
The other intruder whipped around and ducked just as Ed sent a shot flying at him. The bullet missed him by mere inches, and before Ed could fire again, the man slammed his shoulder into Ed, knocking him out of the way. He then disappeared into the hallway.
Ed caught himself against the wall but remained on his feet. As he turned back around, he saw the CIA agent struggling with his would-be shooter on the bed.
Ed rushed over and whacked the side of his gun against the man’s temple. The first hit dazed the attacker. The second knocked him out.
“Are you all right?” he asked the agent.
“Yes, I think so. You’re Ed Rawls, aren’t you? The director briefed us that we might run into you.”
Ed nodded, and a rifle shot cut through the storm.
“What’s going on?” the agent asked.
Ed was already at the door. He paused just long enough to say, “That threat they brought you here to watch out for, that’s what.”
He raced through the apartment to the stairs.
The first thing Carly noticed after she’d knocked out the wall vent in the attic was the open door to the garage.
She shouldered the rifle and trained the scope on the entrance. She detected no movement inside the darkened doorway, so she wasn’t sure if whoever had opened it was still inside or not. But she was positive about one thing: none of her CIA colleagues would have left the door that way.
She started sweeping the area with the scope. As she neared the front edge of Stone’s property, a figure broke from the wall and hurried toward the garage.
She almost pulled the trigger, but there was something familiar about him.
The person reached the garage and pressed against the wall, just short of the doorway.
She sucked in a surprised breath and lifted her finger off the trigger.
It was Ed Rawls.
She didn’t bother wondering how he had come to be here. The important thing was that he was, and that meant he was here to help.
After he slipped inside, she watched the doorway for a few more seconds, then began scanning the property again.
She should have seen at least one member from her team, but they were nowhere.
She returned her attention to the garage and had her crosshairs on the open doorway when the dark shape of a person paused on the threshold.
It was a man holding a gun. The silhouette was wrong for Ed, nor did it match that of any of the CIA security team.
He did a quick scan, then stepped outside. Not only did he have a pistol, but he also had an automatic rifle strapped to his shoulder.
Whoever he was, he was bad news.
Carly took a breath, let half out, then squeezed the trigger.
The boom of the unsilenced rifle thundered in the attic.
Down by the garage, her target dropped to the ground, clutching his hip.
She grimaced. Her aim had been a little low and to the left, apparently.