Hired to Kill

by Andrew Peterson

  Half a second later, Nathan sent a grenade through the open door, then sent another through a window. The result was immediate. All AK fire evaporated, replaced with loud coughing and choking. Anyone inside that building could no longer breathe without extreme distress. Their eyes watered and burned, and their noses became faucets. Nathan knew about tear gas—he and Harv had been exposed during their recon training. The terrorists had two choices: asphyxiate on the fumes until they passed out or come out fighting. Given those options, he fully expected them to burst out of the doors, shooting as they came. These men would never surrender. It simply wasn’t in their nature.

  So be it.

  A figure emerged from the front door. Hunched over, coughing, and disoriented, the guy leveled his AK and fired blindly, sweeping it back and forth in a desperate attempt to kill his attackers. All his rounds sailed harmlessly high.

  Nathan took in half a breath, flipped his safety to the semiauto position, and sent a single round. The man stiffened as the slug slashed through the center of his chest. He fell to his knees, then keeled over and lay still. Harv nailed the second man to emerge with another single shot. He and Harv shot the third man simultaneously. There was no glory in doing this, but there was necessity.

  One by one, the terrorists poured out of the building, and one by one, they were mowed down.

  Vince ordered everyone to load high-explosive rounds and launch.

  Nathan complied, sending an HE through the open door. Almost simultaneously, more detonations flashed and boomed, making the place look and sound like a creepy haunted house. The fragmentation grenades, combined with the near blackness and suffocating gas, created pure terror and agony for the men trapped inside.

  He could almost pity them.

  Almost, but not quite.

  The rout continued for a solid minute. Men were quite literally falling dead on top of each other on the porch. The rattle of M4 gunfire surrounding the building slowed to sporadic bursts. Nathan heard shots inside the barracks that stood out—single reports from a smaller weapon, a few seconds apart. It almost sounded like .22 long rifle rounds. They made a distinctive whiplike crack.

  A creepy silence descended onto the compound.

  “Sierra three, report,” Vince said, his voice subdued.

  No response.

  Vince waited a few seconds, then repeated the order.

  “Sierra two’s gone.” The voice sounded detached, unemotional.

  Nathan squinted. Everyone knew it could happen to any of them, but the news hit him harder than he’d expected. Nick was a good man. He wondered if the fallen hero had a wife and kids. Probably did. Damn it . . .

  The silence became unsettling.

  Come on, Vince, say something, Nathan thought. We need to get past this; our mission’s not over.

  As if on cue, Vince said, “Sierra three, put on your mask and clear the interior. Tango fire team, maintain auto mode on radios. Fire teams sierra and hotel, switch radios to manual and maintain ceasefire until the barracks is cleared.”

  “Hotels one and two, copy the ceasefire,” Nathan said, then added, “I think Sierra three should give it a minute or two before going into the barracks.”

  Vince didn’t respond right away. “What’s on your mind, Hotel one?”

  “I think they just shot each other. I heard small-caliber reports just before our M4s went silent.”

  “Okay . . .”

  “There could be an IED rig—”

  In an ear-shattering explosion, the barracks detonated in a blinding white flash. Nathan felt the heat of the blast as smoking pieces of the walls and roof flew in every direction. The concussive shock wave seemed to compress his internal organs. For an instant, it felt as if the air had been forced down his lungs, then violently sucked back out. Along with the other vehicles, the sedan rocked from the force of the blast.

  Nathan was amazed at what the human mind could register. Just before the explosion temporarily blinded him, he saw the bodies outside the door hurled like rag dolls. Some of them tumbled, but most became airborne in a macabre ballet of flailing corpses. He hoped the visual wouldn’t be with him for the rest of his life.

  Smoldering pieces of the building began raining down like meteorites. Nathan squeezed closer to the sedan as something thumped the ground a few yards away.

  The building wasn’t burning, because it simply didn’t exist anymore. One second it was there; the next it wasn’t. Nothing standing taller than a few feet remained.

  “Sierra and hotel fire teams, any casualties from that blast?” Vince asked.

  Including himself, everyone was rattled, but otherwise okay.

  He visually reacquired Harv as his friend hustled along the bushes lining the dry creek.

  “Hotel three, we’re at the summit of the west ridge overlooking the ranch house. We’re going to have company. A dark pickup’s heading toward the road leading to the compound. Whoever’s driving will have eyes on the compound once they reach this ridge and start down the canyon.”

  Nathan knew that transmission originated from tango fire team.

  “Tango one, has the vehicle sped up since the blast?”

  Vince obviously recognized the female voice as Tango one’s.

  “Negative. It’s maintaining a constant speed. It doesn’t appear to be in a hurry.”

  “Can you intercept it on our side of the ridge where you won’t be seen from the ranch house?”

  “Affirm.”

  “Proceed. Take out the driver and try to preserve the vehicle if possible, but no unnecessary risks. Clear?”

  “Clear.”

  Vince continued. “Tango team, since we don’t know if the Rio Grande cell uses heavy explosives during training, we can’t know if the barracks blast raised any alarm. El Lobo has a Lapua, and we don’t know what kind of an optic he’s got. The ridge is seventeen hundred yards from the ranch house, so it’s definitely within range. I want continuous eyes on the ranch house, but do not advance down the slope yet.”

  Nathan listened to tango’s transmissions as two members angled down to the road to intercept the pickup. He looked in that direction but didn’t see anything. Since the road leading to the ranch house followed the canyon’s snakelike path until it reached the ridge, he couldn’t see all of its length. He could, however, already see the bleed glow from the truck’s headlights on the surrounding higher peaks and bluffs. The sensitivity of these devices never ceased to amaze him.

  Harv arrived, barely breathing hard.

  “Shit, Nate, how did you know about the barracks?”

  “I don’t know. I just felt something weird about the small-caliber shots.”

  “Maybe it’s that finely honed intuition of yours.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “How you holding up?”

  “I’m assuming you’re asking about my mental state?”

  “What else?”

  “I’ve killed a lot of people tonight.”

  “You okay with it?” Harv asked.

  “I keep thinking about Lauren and Dad . . . So, yeah, I’m okay with it.”

  “Me too.”

  “It’s fair to assume someone from the ranch house tried to contact the compound and couldn’t get through, so they’re sending a messenger to find out what all the shooting’s about.”

  Harv looked toward the west ridge. “I’m betting El Lobo tried to call and tell them to knock it off. At least it confirms they’re not in radio contact with the ranch house. The biggest variable is the WMD grenades. If they were in the barracks, they’re toast, but since we don’t know for sure, sierra team will need to search the compound, and this is a huge area. They could be anywhere out here. Buried in a secret place, anywhere.”

  “It kinda makes you wonder why we have a blanket order to kill everyone in the compound except Alisio and El Lobo.”

  “And only if it’s convenient,” Harv added. “If either of them looks at us funny, we’re lighting ’em up.”


  “Take a look at the dashboard of this sedan. What do you see?”

  “The keys are dangling in the ignition.”

  “Yep, and since our work down here seems to be over, it’s time to take out the rest of the trash.”

  “Nate, we can’t do that. I mean just take off. Vince is in command.”

  “Just a harmless fantasy, Harv. I’m a team player.”

  “Here comes the truck Tango one reported seeing.”

  Nathan turned and saw its headlights bouncing along the ridge. “We’ll lose sight of it any second.”

  And they did, but the eerie glow continued, changing in intensity as the pickup navigated the curvy canyon road, bouncing across ruts and potholes.

  The light stopped shifting and seemed to freeze.

  “Tango’s engaged,” Harv whispered.

  “Yep.”

  No sound came from the canyon at all.

  Nathan found himself holding his breath.

  Then their earpieces cracked to life with three identical sounds—the quick pops of suppressed pistol fire.

  “Hotel three, pickup driver neutralized, no passengers, vehicle intact. It’s a Ford crew cab. Based on the descriptions we have, I don’t believe this man is El Lobo or Quattro. He’s in a suit, and there’s a compact HK on the passenger seat. He appears to be a bodyguard or hired muscle. Do you want me to bring the body?”

  “Affirm, Tango one,” Vince said. “Do you see a radio?”

  “Negative.”

  “Head down to Hotel one’s position at the white sedan. Tangos two through four, maintain eyes on the ranch house. Everyone keep your heads down up there.”

  “Hang on, Harv. I’m gonna contact Vince . . . Hotel three, can we huddle up?”

  “Affirm. We’re coming to you. Sierra three, secure Sierra two’s body, then form up with your fire team and stay together. I want a thorough search of the remaining oscar outbuildings to look for hiding holes or tunnels. Look for the WMD grenades while you’re at it, but your primary objective is to verify there aren’t more combatants. Assume this fight isn’t over. Check in as you clear each structure.”

  “Copy.”

  The bleed light in the canyon began shifting again as Tango one drove the truck along the winding road leading down here.

  Tango one said, “Hotel three, we’ve got more vehicular activity at the ranch house. Some kind of sports car just left, and it’s heading south on the main access road away from the house. Whoever’s driving isn’t in a big hurry. He’s not speeding.”

  Crap, Nathan thought, that could be our WMD grenades leaving. Nick had given his life on this mission; he hated the idea of it being in vain. Killing the radicals was secondary to their primary objective: recovering the WMDs—at all costs. If only he hadn’t tried to conceal that stiff in the bed of the truck, setting off the car alarm, everything might’ve unfolded differently. And maybe for the worse, he conceded. The barracks might’ve gone up with some of us in there. It was entirely possible the accidental car alarm had saved lives.

  Vince answered Tango one’s radio call. “Let me know if it keeps going south or makes a right turn toward the smuggling center. Affirm you’ll be able to see that.”

  “Affirm. We’re on it.”

  The Ford came roaring out of the canyon and barreled straight toward their position.

  Harv said, “Whoever sent that messenger will expect him to return to the ranch house pretty quickly.”

  “I agree,” Nathan said. “We need to figure out our next move.”

  “During our mission briefing, we talked about using one or more of these vehicles to get to the ranch house. The pickup changes the dynamic a little and might even work to our advantage. We can still stay close to the original plan.”

  “I think so too. Let’s hear what Vince has in mind first.”

  Intermittent radio calls from Sierra three announced their progress clearing the outbuildings.

  Its diesel engine rumbling, the truck stopped a few yards away. The dust cloud kept coming and drifted past.

  A dust cloud . . . , Nathan thought.

  A few seconds later, Vince and their radioman arrived.

  Vince squared up to Nathan, and for an instant, he wasn’t sure if the mission commander intended to rip him a new asshole for setting off the car alarm.

  In fact, Vince shook his hand and said, “Well done, Marine.”

  “Thank you, Vince. Let’s just say I was . . . motivated. Still am.”

  “Roger that. Let’s take a few seconds and check out the stiff.”

  Nathan waited while Vince dragged the dead man out of the passenger seat of the pickup and laid him out on the hardpan.

  “I agree with Tango one,” Vince said. “This looks like a bodyguard or one of the limo drivers. It’s definitely not El Lobo or Quattro. I think we can assume this isn’t Alisio either. He’d never come over here alone.”

  Nathan didn’t say anything. Neither did Harv. They both wanted to get going.

  “I’ve got an idea,” Vince said. “Tango one’s going to give us a ride in this truck all the way to the ranch house like we own the place. You two will be concealed in the back seat. I can’t tell you what to expect, because quite frankly, there’s no way to know.”

  “May I suggest something?” Nathan asked.

  “Make it quick. Whoever sent this truck is expecting it to return.”

  “If we use this sedan, none of us will have to ride in the bed of the truck. The keys are in the ignition. It’s a small vehicle. If we bust out its headlights and taillights, it can tuck in behind the pickup and hide in the pickup’s dust cloud.” He looked at Tango one. “Sandra, right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “As I recall from the aerials, the last part of the road leading up to the ranch house is a straight shot before it diverts to the south around the place.”

  “Yes, that’s right,” she said. “The landscaped area with grass and hedges extends about a hundred feet from the house in every direction, and the road becomes paved about twice that far out. If we stop the sedan on the dirt, just before the road becomes asphalt, I doubt it will be seen. From there, my fire team can fan out and surround the house.”

  Vince nodded approval. “I like it. Let’s bust out the pickup’s taillights to minimize the chance of the sedan being seen.”

  “Hotel three, we’ve cleared the last outbuilding.”

  Vince pressed his transmit button. “Sierras three and four, position yourselves where you can observe the entire compound. Sierra one, double-time over here. You’re going with us to the ranch house.”

  Nathan knew the other sierra members wanted to be included in the ranch house assault, but it would be reckless of Vince to assume the compound was clear just because they didn’t see any remaining combatants. Like Vince said, there could be holdouts, and leaving only a single member of sierra fire team behind was tactically unsound.

  Nathan thought about Nick. Even though their team member’s death was on everyone’s mind, no one would say anything. This remained a live combat mission, and everyone had to stay focused.

  Sierra one arrived, and Vince told him to fire up the sedan. “If it doesn’t start,” Vince continued, “we’re all cramming into the truck, so keep your fingers crossed.”

  Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief when the sedan turned over. While Harv broke the F-250’s taillights, Vince used the butt of his M4 to shatter all the sedan’s lights, both inside and out, making it totally dark.

  Vince ordered Tango one into the driver’s seat of the truck, then climbed in next to her. Looking around the interior, he said, “Leave the doors open and take a few seconds to break all the interior lights back there. We’ll do the same up here. Harv, check the rear of the cab on the outside. There’s usually a brake and reverse light mounted above the rear window.”

  The truck swayed as Harv climbed into the bed and shattered plastic and glass. With all the lights destroyed, the interior of the crew cab became pit
ch-black. Adding to their stealth, the truck’s windows were darkly tinted.

  “Hotel three, the sports car just stopped along the main road leading away from the ranch house. It’s probably fifteen hundred yards out.”

  “What’s it doing? Is it turning right?” Vince asked.

  “It’s just sitting there. It stopped short of the intersection to the smuggling center. Okay, the driver just got out. He’s running west into the underbrush with something in his hand. It’s hard to say what. Looks like a linear object of some kind. Could be a shovel.”

  “Tango two, stay on the ridge and keep eyes on the driver. Tangos three and four, hustle over to the road and position yourselves on this side of the ridge where you won’t be seen from the ranch house. You’re coming with us. We’ll be slowing for no more than five seconds, so be ready to pile into the rear seats of the sedan. Our radioman will be in the front of the sedan with Sierra one. Copy?”

  “Tango fire team copies. Three and four will be in position at the road in ninety seconds.”

  “That ought to be just about right,” Vince said. “Let’s roll.”

  The sedan maintained a safe separation from the pickup while going up the canyon, but as soon as they crested the ridge, that sedan would be glued to their bumper like the slot jet in a Blue Angels diamond formation.

  One of the tango fire team members came up on the net. “Hotel three, you’re thirty seconds out. We’re just around the next curve in the road.”

  Vince acknowledged.

  Nathan leaned to his left to look through the windshield and nearly butted heads with Harv, who was also leaning to look.

  Even in the headlights of the F-250, the tango members were hard to see. Their uniforms blended perfectly with the tans and beiges of this desert. Nathan turned to watch as they rolled past.

  The sedan slowed, and the two tango members climbed in while the vehicle was still in motion—not an easy task, but they made it look effortless.

  And just like that, they were on their way again.

  “We’re getting close to the top. Sierra one, close to within twenty feet back there, closer if possible.”

  “I’m on it.”