Chapter Twenty
Ty
So far, their mission was on point. They’d arrived in Paris, hit the rack for some zzzs, and now that it was evening, they moved through the plan.
The brothers in the first apartment were the easiest. They were so deeply involved in their video game that the operators crouched behind their gaming chairs, wrapped a hand around their mouths, and jabbed them with Ketamine.
Each time they visited an apartment, they were another man down as one of the team stayed back to babysit their target, zip-tied at the ankles and wrists, and medicinally restrained for good measure.
They’d found one in the shower by listening at the door with their parabolic ear.
White’s list of habits was holding. They seemed well-regulated. Dinner, shower, bed.
But showers were short, and the distances between the apartments were not.
If Ty were working with dangerous materials all day, his nerves would be shot, and he’d fall exhausted into bed at night, too.
The last two targets before Ty went after Phossy Jaw took a bit more skill.
The team had to cut the power to the apartment building and use night-vision gear.
Outside in the hall, the team played music loud enough to cover the scratch of their lock picks but soft enough not to draw attention from the neighbors.
The doors complained as they were pushed wide. Fortunately, T-Rex could see, and the target could not. Each time, T-Rex took a mighty step into the room and grabbed the target in a bear hug.
It had to be a mind-bending experience to be lying down, counting sheep, hear the screech of hinges, then get snatched up like a rag doll to dangle, trapped so tightly around the arms and chest that not a peep could come out of your mouth.
Ty stood ready with Rory while Havoc rushed forward with the shots.
Havoc was quick with the zip ties as Rory sniffed the room, finding only an old shoe that caught his attention. Meanwhile, T-Rex jabbed the second, longer-lasting, shot into the guy’s thigh and laid him on his left side in a rescue posture to help keep him from suffocating.
“That’s number four, a wrap.” T-Rex’s voice was robotic as he used bone microphones to speak without sound.
Those vibrations were translated by the computer into words the team could hear through the magnetic devices they dropped into their ear canals.
And White, back at the improvised tactical operations center, could tick another item off their mission list. It was like a magic act, communicating freely without anyone around them hearing a sound.
“On to number five. T-Rex, over.”
Five went much like the last apartment. Surprise and swiftness of action were the keys to success. T-Rex would be hanging out in the apartment, while Ty would move on to Phossy jaw with Rory as his backup.
Ty jumped Rory into the front seat of the van that they’d positioned in an alleyway.
White had the forethought to get an electric vehicle, so he drove silently through the streets.
There was still some traffic, but this was the part of town with workers who rose early to start the day before the office workers’ alarms went off. The lights were already blinking off.
The plan for Phossy Jaw was to open the door and send Rory forward to stall any thoughts of fighting back. Ty would leave the lights on for this one, but the jammer would definitely be on, so no cell signals could dial 1-1-2, the emergency number in Europe.
One of White’s people was in a car, saving the parking spot in front of the building. As Ty moved down the road, he flashed his lights, and they pulled out.
The van was marked for carpet cleaning, though Ty thought it wasn’t a great cover.
The apartments in this area didn’t look like anyone had a carpet worth saving.
It would probably be cheaper to throw it out and buy something else from a community shopping app.
But, Ty could see one of the workers driving home in the van.
There were other commercial vehicles dotted around.
Ty flipped the jamming switch, which the team deemed safe enough to use for the brief time that Ty would be operating in the apartment building.
He tapped the shots that he’d stored on either thigh to assure himself they were in place. Right was the Ketamine, left the cocktail.
Jumping Rory down from the cab, Ty used his fob to set the locks, using the opportunity to scan the street and the windows above.
Ty put the fob in his backpack, knowing that the back door would unlock simply by standing at the rear, which was a bonus when you had a man wrapped in a blanket and thrown over your shoulder.
Ty climbed the six flights of stairs, thinking that he was glad Phossy Jaw was the smallest of the targets.
If Phossy were a linebacker, fireman-carrying the man down the stairs would be tough.
And Ty knew he had to make it fast. Sedated and tossed over his shoulder wasn’t healthy for a target who had significant intelligence in his head.
Like White continually reminded them, dead men tell no tales.
Rory’s arthritis was obviously in play as he navigated the narrow staircase. It was good that Rory was about to move to a cushy house with Trip Wire and Dani, where he’d have a life of well-earned relaxation and indulgence.
The idea of not having Rory by his side all day, every day after their years together was heavy. There was still hope that Iniquus would sign his contracts, and at least Ty would see Rory at Cerberus. Though each day that passed made Ty think he hadn’t made the mark.
That had never happened to Ty before.
If he wanted something, he went after it with patience and dedication. He hadn’t assumed he’d get the position with Team Delta, but there was a symmetry to it that appealed to Ty. And he had wanted it as badly as he’d wanted to join Delta Force.
“Last flight of stairs,” Ty said as they turned at the landing. Ty moved to combat breathing and stopped any thoughts that weren’t focused on accomplishing his mission.
As he approached the back apartment, Ty spit on his fingers and unscrewed the hall lights. It was dark as pitch.
Pressing his ear to the ancient door, bubbly with too many layers of paint, Ty heard the shower. He smiled down at Rory and popped his brows. This was better than he’d hoped for.
With a pen light clamped between his teeth, Ty worked to pick the three locks.
“Ready?” he whispered to Rory. “You’re in first.” He gave the hand signal to Rory.
Ty pressed his sternal comms to open a line to his team. “Echo two in position. The target is in the shower. We are entering the apartment. Over.”
“TOC. Copy Echo-two. Standing by.”
Ty anticipated the screech of hinges. They’d met up with that sound in all five of the previous apartments. He hoped the sound of Phossy’s shower water would mask the noise, and he could get in there, positioning himself for when the man exited the bathroom.
What Ty didn’t anticipate was the shrill of a burglar alarm.
He was prepared, but damn!
As Ty located the alarm, he dragged a can of refrigerant from the side pocket of his backpack and held it upside down at the speaker opening, shooting a stream of high-pressure liquid into the alarm and freezing the components.
A bang with the base of the can snapped the thin ceramic disc inside the alarm housing, and the clamor stopped.
Four seconds tops.
Hopefully, the neighbors would think that Phossy was burning his dinner.
And while that might cover the thoughts of those living nearby, Phossy most certainly knew that someone had breached his door.
The shower water stopped.
Ty closed the apartment door and turned the top two locks to keep Phossy from running. Dropping his backpack by the door, ready for a quick retrieval, Ty glanced around the studio apartment to get a lay of the land before he tested the knob on the bathroom.
Ty could feel the panic sliding from under the bathroom door.
This was absolutely not the way Ty had hoped this would go down.
With a well-aimed boot, Ty slammed his foot into the door just north of the knob.
The jam splintered, and the door banged against the wall, and there was Rory—legs wide, hunkered low, lips peeled back in a vicious snarl.
Phossy Jaw brandished a fixed blade hunting knife with one hand, while he ripped the shower curtain down with his other. A quick flick and Phossy held the curtain like a matador facing down a furious bull.
Rory leaped for the weapons hand, and the man threw the curtain over Rory.
It was a small space taken up by the shower, toilet, and sink. There was barely room for the man, let alone an angry Rory, under the plastic.
Ty grabbed a side of the curtain to pull it free, and the man slashed with his knife.
Terrified that the knife would plunge into Rory, Ty lifted the curtain high. “Rory to me.”
Ty was not going to tell Trip Wire that Rory died on his last mission before retirement.
That was not how this was going down.
Rory scrambled backward. As soon as his K9 cleared the room, Ty gave the shower curtain a mighty yank.
Phossy had not let go, and the sudden shift pulled him off balance with wet feet dancing on slick tile.
Phossy dropped the knife, grabbing Ty to catch his fall.
Ty and Phossy grappled as Rory leaped about them, barking.
Rory hadn’t gotten the command yet to bite the man, and he was excited at the possibility.
Ty was trying to avoid the screams that always followed Rory’s sinking his fangs into flesh. Things had been loud enough, and White had asked for cats’ paws.
Phossy had the advantage of being able to grab Ty’s clothes and leverage his moves.
While Phossy, on the other hand, was naked and soap-slicked. It reminded Ty of a charity race he ran where he had to carry a greased piglet down the football field. It was ridiculous to try to get a lock on the guy.
The target was trained, and Ty was feeling the punches.
Soap was a hell of a lubricant, and Ty’s own strikes glanced off with little impact.
The humanity in him made Ty avoid the man’s jaw.
Phossy kneed Ty in the balls.
As his eyes and nose ran with the sudden shock of pain, Ty called. “Rory, restrain.”
The target turned horror-filled eyes toward Rory.
And Rory got to do what Rory liked best; he bit the bad guy as Ty clamped his left hand over Phossy’s mouth to muffle the sound of his scream.
The whole jaw apparatus under Ty’s hand felt odd and otherworldly.
Ty pulled the syringe from his right thigh, bit off the cap, and plunged the needle into the man’s thigh.
“Rory, release.” Good as gold, Rory opened his mouth and scrambled back two paces to sit, watch, and hope for another opportunity.
Soon, the tension left Phossy’s muscles, and Ty released him.
Pulling his backpack over, Ty grabbed a couple of zip ties and cinched them around Phossy’s wrists and ankles.
Ty moved through the apartment gathering the cell phone, computer, and anything else that he thought might be of interest to White. He stuffed them into his backpack.
Sitting back on his heels to catch his breath, Ty assessed the rug they’d been grappling on. It looked stiff and like too much trouble for the stairs.
Ty flipped up the edge and found an underpad that was malleable.
“Hey, man,” Ty said as he rolled Phossy into the padding, “it’s going to take me a minute to get you down to the van with my bruised ballsack. Don’t stop breathing on me, or White’s going to be pissed.”