Chapter Three #3
The compound spread farther into the woods than I had realized from my window, with the main training area divided between a shooting range, a concrete structure built for close-quarters drills and a larger stretch of broken terrain that included vehicle obstacles and enough artificial walls to simulate an alley or courtyard.
A narrower path disappeared into the trees toward the long-range positions.
Raven handed me clear eye protection and a headset that doubled as hearing protection.
I tried to fit the ear cups over my ponytail, failed, pulled the elastic loose and gathered my hair lower at the back of my neck.
The waves fell over one shoulder while I adjusted the headset, then I twisted them into a lower ponytail that sat comfortably beneath the band.
Raven watched the process.
“This is why Hawk keeps his hair simple.”
“Hawk’s hair is longer than Viper’s.”
“Still easier than yours.”
“Thank you for the tactical analysis.”
A rifle cracked somewhere far beyond the visible range. I whipped my head toward the trees.
“Hawk?”
“Hawk.”
“Where?”
Raven pointed toward a low ridge beyond the first tree line and I followed his finger.
“You’re pointing at a forest.”
“Look juuust halfway up the rise. Left of the dead pine.”
I squinted.
Nothing.
Another shot rolled across the range, deeper than the closer weapons I’d heard the day before. A steel plate rang several seconds later as Raven handed me compact binoculars.
“Cheat.”
I raised them to my eyes and it still took me almost a full minute.
Then I saw him.
Hawk lay prone behind a low section of earth, blond hair tucked beneath a backward cap and most of his body disappearing into the muted fabric of his field clothing.
The AXMC rested against his shoulder on a bipod, the long barrel aimed toward steel positioned far enough downrange that I couldn’t identify the shapes without magnification.
“How far?”
“Six hundred right now. He’ll push farther later.”
I lowered the binoculars. “And this is a normal morning?”
“For him.”
Another shot.
Another distant ring.
“Does he miss?”
Raven took the binoculars from me. “Yes.”
I waited.
“How often?”
“Less than Jackal would like.”
Movement near the concrete training building caught my attention.
Bear stood beside a reinforced practice door wearing a plate carrier over a dark green shirt. Even with the gear, he moved carefully around the frame, checking the hinges and lock before choosing anything from the equipment laid out nearby.
“I thought the point was to break it,” I said.
“The point is to get through it. Those aren’t always the same thing.”
Bear rejected the heavy ram first and reached for a Halligan tool.
Raven nodded toward him. “Bear handles mechanical and explosive entry. Doors, gates, barriers, whatever somebody has decided should stay closed.”
“Because he’s huge.”
“That helps. It’s not why he’s good at it.”
Bear wedged the tool into the practice frame and worked the lock with controlled force rather than swinging wildly. The door gave after a few hard movements. He looked toward someone outside my line of sight and shook his head.
“What?”
“Wolf asked whether he wanted the shotgun.”
“How do you know?”
“Comms.”
Raven tapped the headset he’d given me and a low voice came through the channel.
“Reset it. Reinforced frame next.”
Wolf.
I looked around.
“Where is he?”
“Coming.”
I heard him before I saw him.
His steps came from behind the training building, slower than the pace everyone else used while carrying heavy gear but somehow more commanding because of it.
Wolf rounded the corner in full kit, black tactical pants beneath a plate carrier loaded with magazines and equipment, the HK416A5 slung across his chest. His head was covered now, and the tactical mask over his lower face carried the diagonal stitched mark I’d noticed the day before.
He looked different in gear. Larger somehow, though nothing about his body had changed. The weight across his chest and hips should have made him look cumbersome, but the equipment seemed to settle into the way he moved rather than fight it.
His shoulders remained loose, his hands calm, every step placed with the same certainty I had noticed inside the compound. The effect annoyed me because I had spent most of breakfast being angry at him.
I could hate a man and still recognize that he looked very good carrying a gun.
Wolf saw Raven and me near the marked observation line.
“Why is she here?”
“Tour,” Raven said.
Wolf stopped several feet away, taking in my hearing protection and training clothes before turning to Raven.
“I told you to keep her working.”
“You also told me to keep her out of the armory. I did.”
I looked at Raven.
Technically true.
Wolf looked back at me. “You’re done with the vehicle work?”
“For now. Border results are running.”
“Then find something else.”
“I am. I’m learning what ‘team established perimeter’ actually means.”
His stare flattened.
“You asked to understand the reports, not interfere with training.”
“I’m standing behind a yellow line wearing goggles. My interference level is low.”
Raven looked down and Wolf stepped closer.
“Stay behind the line.”
“Was planning to.”
“Don’t talk on comms unless Raven tells you.”
“Got it.”
“And if somebody tells you to move, you move.”
I smiled. “You really like that one.”
Wolf did not.
He turned toward the training building and the metal clip on his tactical belt shifted with a small, distinct click as he moved.
I glanced down without thinking. A narrow length of black webbing sat folded beside one of the pouches, attached through compact metal hardware.
It looked like another piece of gear among too many to catalogue at once.
Wolf caught my attention on it.
“Problem?”
“No.”
He walked away.
Raven leaned slightly toward me. “You have a remarkable gift for sounding guilty when you’re doing nothing wrong.”
“I was looking at his belt.”
Raven turned his head.
“For equipment reasons.”
“Of course.”
“Don’t start.”
“I didn’t.”
Before I could threaten him, Wolf’s voice came across comms.
“Positions.”
Everything changed.
Jackal emerged from the far side of the building wearing the MP7 across his chest, whatever laziness he had carried through breakfast gone from his posture.
Viper joined Wolf at the main entrance with a suppressed SIG MCX held close, his face blank and focused in a way that made the man eating yogurt an hour earlier feel like somebody else entirely.
Bear reset near the reinforced practice door.
Raven looked down at the tablet in his hands.
“Scenario is a two-level structure, four hostile markers, one possible civilian and an unknown exit route. Hawk has overwatch on north and west.”
“You’re not going in?”
“I’m already in.”
He turned the tablet toward me. Camera feeds from inside the training building filled the screen, along with a diagram showing positions and comms data. Raven touched one feed and enlarged it.
“Signals, surveillance, cameras, communications. I keep them connected to what they can’t see.”
I looked at the Glock at his hip.
“And the pistol?”
“For when technology disappoints me.”
A sharp pop came from the building and I flinched despite the hearing protection.
“Flashbang,” Raven said.
Viper disappeared through the doorway first.
His movement was fast without looking frantic, the MCX staying close to his body as he cleared the first angle. Wolf followed half a step behind, then Jackal moved through the opening while Bear held the entry long enough to control the door and rear. Raven spoke quietly into comms.
“Movement upper west. One heat source crossing.”
Wolf answered immediately. “Hawk?”
A calm voice came through the channel.
“Have the west window.”
“Hold it.”
Viper appeared briefly through an interior camera, crossed a narrow hallway and vanished into another room.
“Why Viper first?” I whispered.
“Point man. Close-quarters specialist. He reads rooms quickly and doesn’t waste movement.”
“Wolf is behind him.”
“Wolf can run point. Viper is better in this layout, so Viper runs point. You’ll notice Wolf lets him make calls he wouldn’t hand to anyone else.”
“Because he trusts him?”
“Because he’s teaching him.”
On the screen, Jackal changed direction before Wolf said anything.
“Why did he turn?”
Raven watched the diagram. “He heard the runner.”
A figure in padded training gear burst from a side exit at the back of the building but Jackal was already moving. He came around the corner at a sprint, MP7 secured against his chest, and cut toward an alley section instead of following directly behind the role-player.
“He’s going the wrong way.”
“No, he’s not.”
The runner disappeared behind a wall. Jackal changed direction twice through the course and emerged at the opposite end before the runner reached it. He stopped the man cleanly.
“How did he know?”
“Tracking and pursuit. Jackal’s very good when a controlled plan becomes messy. He reads where people will go instead of where they are.”
The role-player raised both hands and Wolf arrived several seconds later. He slung the HK416 against his chest and reached toward his belt.
Click.
The same metal sound.
He pulled the narrow black webbing free, stepped behind the role-player and secured the man’s wrists with two practiced movements before clipping the remaining length back to his own gear.
I looked at Raven.
“Retention webbing. Useful when you need somebody controlled and moving.”
“Looks uncomfortable.”
“Generally not designed for comfort.”
I watched Wolf check the restraint before handing control to Jackal, and by the time Jackal had the role-player, Wolf’s attention was already back on the building.
The second phase started almost immediately.