ALSO BY ANDREW PETERSON
First to Kill
Forced to Kill
Option to Kill
Ready to Kill
Contract to Kill
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2016 by Andrew Peterson
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Thomas & Mercer, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Thomas & Mercer are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781503940376
ISBN-10: 1503940373
Cover design by Stewart A. Williams
First edition
To the memory of Special Warfare Operator 1st Class Charles Keating IV—KIA in Iraq on May 2, 2016. I didn’t know Charles Keating IV, but I am forever in this Navy SEAL’s debt.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
AUTHOR’S NOTE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHAPTER 1
Linda Genneken threw off the fog of sleep as fast as her arms threw off the covers.
Earthquake?
No. Something worse.
Only one thing triggered the bed’s alarm feature: her custom-built security system. By design, it worked silently and in isolation. She’d long ago decided to deal with intruders herself and leave the police out of the equation. Besides, response time to her house would be ten minutes at best, probably more like twenty, especially at the brink of midnight on New Year’s Eve.
Assuming this wasn’t a false alarm, the odds of this being a random break-in to steal cash or jewelry in this La Jolla neighborhood? A hundred thousand to one.
She sensed her husband stir and pressed a button on the remote, killing the bed’s vibration. Left with the stillness of the room, she heard only the light patter of rain against the skylights.
“Linda, what’s going on?”
“Get up and stay low.”
“Wait. What—”
“Prowlers.”
“Prowlers? You mean—”
“Yes.”
He didn’t move.
She put command in her voice. “Damn it, Glen, now.”
“What about our dogs?”
Their dogs . . . ? First things first, but he was right: she shouldn’t leave them running loose. She whispered their names, herded them into the closet, and closed the door. Her two German shepherd rescues were visually intimidating, but that was all. They had no tactical or combat training. Although she’d do her best to protect them, she wouldn’t risk her life, or Glen’s, in the process.
“We can’t leave them—”
“Stay close and don’t make any noise. I need absolute silence.”
She grabbed her Beretta M9 from the nightstand drawer, thumbed off its safety, and verified the suppressor was tight. After powering its laser, she gave it a quick test to be sure it worked.
It did.
She also took her night-vision scope. The M9’s tritium sights glowed brightly, but she wanted a bigger advantage. Used in tandem with the NV, her laser-sighted Beretta became a more effective weapon. A pressure switch on the grip activated the laser; otherwise it stayed dark.
Dressed only in her underwear, she had no place to put the extra magazines, so she took a few seconds to throw on a pair of cargo shorts and a T-shirt. Having extra ammo might be the difference between living or not.
Nathan McBride’s cell didn’t ring with its normal tone. The distinct sound meant only one thing—an activated alarm. He unlocked it, looked at the screen, and knew he needed to respond.
Right now.
He scrambled up from the floor, where he’d been curled up with his two giant schnauzers, and started a mental countdown. Fully alert, Grant and Sherman trailed him into the closet.
His security company had installed state-of-the-art systems for many of his Marine Corps and CIA colleagues, and when their alarms triggered, notifications appeared on his computer and mobile devices.
This alert originated from Linda Genneken’s home.
An image of her compact form flashed through his mind. Five feet tall. Athletic. Long brown hair. Hazel-green eyes. Confident. Capable. Although Nathan was younger and towered over her by a good seventeen inches, pound for pound, LG was one of the toughest human beings on the planet. In her mid-fifties, she could go hand to hand against 99.99 percent of the earth’s population and win the fights, but given the opportunity, she preferred shooting her combatants.
Truth be told, so did Nathan.
Before being promoted to chief of Latin American operations, she’d successfully completed every type of field mission known to the Agency. She possessed survival training in all environments, held black belts in multiple fighting arts, and could fire everything from a pellet gun to a TOW anti-tank missile.
Three . . . two . . . one . . . right on time.
He answered Harv’s call. “I see it.”
The voice on the other end held its usual calm baritone. “Is there any chance of convincing you to wait for me?”
“None.”
“Yeah, I kinda figured.”
Harv was his closest friend. Friendship to Nathan meant giving your life for the other; nothing else defined it. Harv had been the spotter in their two-man sniper team in the Marines and then his teammate in the CIA. Now, many years post-service, Harv and he owned a highly successful private security company. The bond they shared went beyond friendship, beyond family. At times, Nathan swore they shared a single consciousness. Although his connection to Genneken wasn’t as strong, it didn’t matter.
Nathan switched to speaker, set his phone down, and hustled into black 5.11 Tactical clothes. “She’s one of us. I need to get over there.”
“You’re seeing what I’m seeing, right? All her thermal imagers picked up heat signatures within two minutes of each other. If only one of them had been triggered . . .”
“It could be a stray animal. All of them means trouble.”
“Right, so if the TIs are picking up warm bodies, why aren’t the motion detectors and IR beams going off?”
“Good question. We’d better wear vests.”
“Cops?” Harv asked.
“She wouldn’t want them; they’d only get in her way. And ours.”
“I really think you should wait for me.”
“A lot can happen in twenty minutes. Send her a text. I’m heading out the door in the next thirty seconds. ETA five minutes.”
“Been slumming it in La Jolla with the mutts?”
“I got a little bored in Clairemont.” N
athan owned two homes. His Clairemont residence was tiny compared to his La Jolla digs, but the smaller house somehow fit him better. He spent most of his time there.
“You? Bored?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I do. My text might distract her.”
“Send it anyway, I’m sure she’s silenced her phone. Look for my car. I’ll park near the hairpin on El Camino Del Teatro and approach her place from the canyon.”
“That could be the bad guys’ route in and out.”
“I’m counting on it.”
That would be the end of it. Harv wouldn’t say anything to undermine his resolve or confidence. They didn’t operate that way.
Wearing an armored vest, he bounded down the stairs with his emergency bag in hand. “See you in twenty. And Harv?”
“Yeah?”
“Tell LG not to shoot me.”
Harv didn’t say anything.
“One more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Happy New Year.”
Linda set her pistol and NV down on the bed, unlocked her phone, and put it in vibration mode. A tap of the flashing security app showed a site map of her property. She squinted at the blinking red lights, each representing the location of a triggered thermal imager.
She knew it wasn’t normal, but in situations like this, she didn’t feel fear, only resolve. The adrenaline rush reminded her how much she missed being a covert-ops officer. She’d never shared that sentiment with her husband because, quite frankly, Glen would never understand it. It didn’t matter. As cold as it sounded, his understanding wasn’t required. The simple fact was, once activated, she became an efficient killer. She didn’t question it, debate it, or regret it.
Whoever these intruders were, they had the house surrounded. She tapped a menu button and the screen changed to the motion-detector map. Oddly, it showed no activity. Neither did the infrared beam screen. Could her system be malfunctioning? It seemed unlikely.
Using the night-vision scope, she took a quick look through the blinds but saw no movement in the rear yard. She tapped her phone again, calling up a grid-like mosaic of live thermal-image feeds.
There.
She tapped the west-facing feed and enlarged the image.
Like a grim reaper, a glowing hooded figure stood in her yard, facing the house.
She felt her skin tighten. Creepy didn’t begin to describe how the intruder looked.
Cursing her carelessness, she lowered into a crouch and hoped her lit face hadn’t been seen. If any of them had NV . . .
She took another look at her phone. The man outside still hadn’t moved.
What the hell’s he doing?
Three more feeds showed the same thing—stationary figures, standing in her yard like statues. Wearing knee-length rain ponchos, they appeared as bright objects compared to the ambient background temperature. The thermal imager overlooking the pool area showed two more. She scrolled through all the other feeds and saw three additional threats.
Were they waiting for a command to rush forward in a simultaneous attack? No, that didn’t make sense. Some of them were already inside the grid of IR beams and all were inside the range of the motion detectors.
How could they have gotten that far without—
Then she knew.
She switched back to the first TI feed, enlarged the image to maximum, and focused on the man’s boots. The guy’s position had changed slightly. He stood about a foot closer to the house.
This is big trouble.
With their heels pressed together, the intruders were shuffling forward at ultraslow speed to avoid triggering the motion detectors. An extremely disciplined task. To the untrained eye, they wouldn’t appear to be moving at all. She knew a time lapse would look oddly beautiful—stationary figures gliding along the ground as if hovering. Whoever these guys were, they obviously weren’t aware her security system employed TIs. Clearly, they knew about the other security measures; that’s why the prowler on the west side of the house had dropped to the ground. He was in the process of crawling underneath the beam, which meant they had night-vision equipment. A third-generation or newer NV scope could see an IR beam.
Based on their progress, they’d reach her walls within five minutes.
Her phone vibrated. Once. A text or email alert, not a call. Thinking it was an automated alert from her system, she ignored it.
Linda eased toward the bedroom door, gun up, and listened. She didn’t think any of them were inside the house yet. Her dogs would’ve heard or smelled them, and they couldn’t penetrate her last line of security without setting off additional alarms. So far, only the exterior TIs had picked up activity.
She felt her phone vibrate again and decided to take a look. The message was from Harvey Fontana, a name she hadn’t thought about in years. His security company had installed her system and rigged the custom vibration feature. She squinted at the screen, remembering her system linked to McBride’s and Fontana’s phones.
echo five eta in five - don’t shoot him
She squinted at the screen. Echo Five had been McBride’s CIA moniker when they’d worked in Central and South America. Fontana was Echo Four, and she’d been Echo One.
“Who is it?” Glen asked.
Now she had to worry about shooting a friendly. At least McBride’s size would make him easy to ID. Not too many men stood six foot five, 240 pounds. Her size was quite the opposite—another saving grace: McBride would never mistake her for one of the intruders, especially dressed as she was.
She pressed the microphone icon and didn’t bother including the punctuation. “Eight or more intruders I’m going silent.” She hit Send.
“Who is that? Who are you texting?”
“Glen, be quiet.”
She regretted her tone but couldn’t afford the added distraction. At least she knew a friendly was on the way—an extremely capable friendly. McBride was many things, but sloppy and careless weren’t two of them. He’d be fully aware of her concerns. She didn’t fear death, but she did fear the manner of her death, and dying can be an agonizing business—every operations officer’s worst nightmare, especially a female’s.
At least McBride’s security system did its job. If she lived through this, she’d buy him a lifetime’s worth of Nordstrom gift cards. The man needed some serious wardrobe coaching.
She reached back, gave Glen’s arm a squeeze, and wished there was something she could say to ease his nerves. If the intent of the intruders was to kill or capture her, they wouldn’t leave a witness behind.
If she died, Glen died.
And likely, badly.
For both their sakes, she needed to find a good defensive position before the intruders breached her walls.
Nathan pushed the limits of control on the way to LG’s, but he had to be extra careful because of the wet roadways. The increased speed and heightened sense of peril made the experience tolerable. He hated driving, even when the streets were deserted. His distaste of driving was so severe that he didn’t even drive the golf cart when he and Harv hit the links. He liked flying, though. Was it self-indulgent to own a helicopter? Of course, but screw it, he’d earned it. His Bell 407 was an awesome ship, and the pleasure he derived from flying far outweighed the expense. It was, after all, his sole indulgence in life.
Nathan answered Harv’s call as he accelerated to seventy miles an hour down Nautilus. “I’m fifteen minutes out. You?”
“Two minutes,” Nathan said.
“I had to plug her address into the nav. I haven’t been there in years.”
“Did she get back to you?”
“She said she’s facing at least eight intruders and going silent. You’ll need to be extra careful, or you’ll find yourself on the business end of her Beretta.”
“The thought had crossed my mind. She’s always liked that M9.”
“And she’s a crack shot with it, better than me.”
“No one’s better th
an you.”
“I found where you’re going to park. Let’s hope she hangs in there until you arrive. She’ll be glad to see you.”
“Hardly. She never liked me.”
“I happen to know for a fact that isn’t true. It wasn’t true then and it isn’t true now.”
“Then why the cold shoulder?”
“What? You mean not everyone warms to your fuzzy personality?”
“It’s more than that. She was . . . I don’t know . . . indifferent.”
“She wasn’t indifferent. She was disengaged. You of all people should understand that.”
“So we’re the same, LG and me?”
Harv didn’t say anything, which was an answer.
“It’s a wonder she ever spoke to me.”
“Come on, Nate, that’s not fair. Most of our missions weren’t fought on battlefields. How many times did we make a single kill, then bug out?”
“A bunch.” Nathan knew the exact number. It was hard to forget.
“And . . .”
“I know, I know. We’ve had this discussion many times. Someone had to do it, I get that, but it doesn’t make it any easier to live with.”
“LG did the same stuff we did. Worse. She was also a trained interrogator. Did it ever occur to you that she probably thought you never liked her?”
“I liked her. I would’ve given my life for her.”
“You nearly did.”
“Maybe it’s a chemistry thing, but a man can tell when a woman doesn’t like him.”
“I still say you’re imagining things.”
“Do you remember when I first met Holly?”
“Is there a tattoo in the NBA?”
“Okay, dumb question. Even though we got off to a rough start, I just knew she liked me.” He braked hard for the turn onto Muirlands.
“She’s attracted to tall, introverted men with long, deep scars on their faces. I mean, what woman isn’t?”
Nathan smiled, glad Harv couldn’t see it. “I’ll be careful.”
“No unnecessary risks, Nate. I like my world with you in it.”
He wanted to say, Define unnecessary, but didn’t. “Come in dark and text me right after you park. Better yet, use your radio. I’ll be wired for auto-transmit. We’ll use channel seventeen and speak Russian. The intruders might have a scanner.”
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