Hunter (In the Company of Snipers Book 14)

by Irish Winters

  “Hell, yeah. Alex needs to upgrade our gear.”

  “Not going to happen. Not at the hefty price tag.”

  “So I heard. How do you plan on going in?”

  “Same way you did yesterday. Through the front gate.”

  Hunter hadn’t zipped up yet. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled up one of Burdette’s hypos. “You think one dose will be enough?”

  Eric pursed his lips. “It’s hard to know how much we’ll need for a mental suggestion to anchor. I don’t want to kill anyone if I don’t need to, so let’s start out with half a hypo. If we need to up the dose, we will.”

  Hunter stifled his comeback. Burdette’s guys deserved killing, and he had the perfect weapon to do it. “How do I plant a suggestion? What should I say? Please play nice, asshole?”

  Eric rolled his eyes. “How about we tell them they can only speak the truth? That from now on, they won’t seek out or hurt any MI or TEAM agents? That ought to mess them up plenty.”

  “I can do that. Here. You’ll need these.” Hunter handed over three hypos and one vial of the green shit before he zipped up “We ready?”

  Eric pocketed his portion of their chemical warfare. “You need to know that one of the flaws of Active Camouflage is the technology itself. Without the MI laptop to control full integration, we won’t be able to communicate with each other. If one of us goes down, we’ll have no way to know, so be damned careful.”

  Hunter tapped the side of his helmet. “Then it’s a good thing our helmets come with a digital clock. Meet me at the gate in one hour. By then, we’ll have a better idea of what we still need to do.”

  “Hopefully, we’ll be done by then.”

  “Don’t jinx us before we get started.”

  “Move out,” Eric whispered, a bit of a tease in his voice, “and whatever you do, don’t shoot me in the ass like you did in Beirut.”

  “Stay out of my line of fire then.” Hunter lowered his visor, immediately checking his six for Eric. Beirut was one of those nightmare ops. They’d been taking a blitz of enemy rounds when Eric had run straight into Hunter’s line of fire to rescue a downed man. Hunter had creased his left butt cheek, but damn. Until then, he’d had no idea that USMC medics thought they walked on water. Eric was the hero that day. He’d hauled ass to save lives and work his special brand of miracles before he’d treated his own wound.

  Eric lowered his visor and blinked out of sight, panel by panel. Hunter depressed the switch on his palm pad, triggering his suit to fade just as Eric’s had. The ACS3 invisibility system worked flawlessly.

  “You’re invisible,” Eric reported. “Me?”

  “Out of sight and out of mind.” Hunter stepped to the side of their forward path. “You lead. I’ll follow.”

  “Just make some noise once in a while, would you? You get scary quiet when you go ghost.”

  “That’s the whole idea. This suit just makes it easier.”

  “Which reminds me. Tap the pad on the right side of your helmet to shut down the voice in your head.”

  “My computer woman?”

  Eric grunted. “Yeah, her.”

  Hunter shut her down and followed his agent-in-charge. Eric made for a good ghost, too. He was sneaky and quiet. The only way Hunter knew his buddy was ahead of him was the occasional ripple in the jungle scenery.

  After twenty minutes, they were at Burdette’s camp. Eric halted in plain sight. The place appeared to be in lockdown. The lawn chairs were gone. No guys were sitting around, shooting the breeze. The tent Seth had been tortured in was gone. The fifty caliber, belt-fed, M2 machine gun resting dead center of the camp testified to the new rule of the day—paranoia. Sandbags circled the machine gun nest. One guard sat inside the circle, puffing on a cigarette that instantly jolted Hunter’s need for nicotine. Odd. With all the crap going on, he hadn’t thought about it until now.

  Hunter took a wild guess and ended up being right when his gloved palm met with the resistance of Eric’s shoulder. He just needed to let his senior agent know where he was. Eric jumped at the contact. Message received.

  The security filament blanket covering the narrow compound shimmered on the updraft, but so did a perimeter of newly installed trip wires outside the fence. Hunter bumped Eric and nudged his boot to get him to look downward. A shoulder bump, the signal for A-OK, message received, came back at him.

  That was the last he saw, but not really, of Eric. Invisibility didn’t lessen the taste of adrenaline on Hunter’s tongue or his need to get down on his belly and crawl to keep out of sight. He rolled the intense pinch radiating out from his neck to his shoulder. This new world of out-in-the-open covert work would take some getting used to.

  It didn’t take long for one of Burdette’s men to shuffle through the gate. Hunter and Eric hotfooted it inside. As planned, Hunter rounded the first rig and headed out back to intercept as many of Burdette’s men as he could.

  Three bodies were already there. Burdette included. All had been executed. One shot to the center of their foreheads. Another in their throats. Small caliber. Plenty of black stippling. Damned close range.

  Holy shit. Things had just gone from bad to worse, but Hunter had no way to notify Eric. He rounded the rear of the first rig and stepped up to the man lounging on a stack of wooden ammo crates behind the fifty-cal. Just as the tip of the hollow needle would’ve entered his opponent’s neck, another guard climbed out of the first trailer. He’d no more than started toward Hunter when he swayed to one side, then toppled to his knees and fell over.

  Gun Boy jumped to his feet. “Hey, McMillan. You okay?”

  Knowing exactly where Eric was, or had been, steadied Hunter’s nerves. He caught his unwary prey in a chokehold, hitting him with the hypo at the same time. Gun Boy relaxed forward, hugging his weapon like a little kid with a teddy bear.

  “Stop telling lies and keep your fucking hands off Meredith Flynn,” Hunter ordered in a muffled voice. Maybe not the perfect mental suggestion, but one he meant with every beat of his heart.

  If that quick and easy takedown didn’t make him feel like the friggin’ sandman, nothing did. There he was, putting guys to sleep and whispering sugarplum dreams instead of killing them. Meredith would be proud.

  He ducked back between the rigs and kept to his appointed rounds. Arguing came from his left at the rear of the second trailer. A louder debate came from inside. A roar. The sounds of a scuffle. Or a knockdown drag-out.

  Hunter headed left. Three guards, make that three mutineers, stood behind the rig, discussing how or if they should take Masters down. One craned his neck around the far corner and freaked. “Shit, guys. We’ve got men down.”

  By the time he looked back, his fellow traitors were also down. Hunter moved fast and number three went to sleep, again with the stern admonition to tell the truth and leave MI and The TEAM agents alone. Especially Meredith.

  Hunter traded the empty hypo for the full. He hadn’t used Eric’s recommended half-dose, though, more like half of that. Peering into the camp, he spied five more of Burdette’s men sprawled on the ground. All asleep. But where was Eric?

  Hunter tapped his helmet. “Can you target an ACS3 suit in the vicinity?”

  “Yes, Agent Christian,” that calm automaton voice of hers answered. “Each helmet comes with a tracking chip.”

  The crosshairs dead center of Hunter’s head’s up display rotated to the left, zoomed out, and placed Eric at the passenger door of the same rig’s semi, less than ten feet away. Helmet Lady advised, “Previous readings confirm target acquired is Agent Eric Reynolds. Shall I terminate?”

  “Sh-shit no. Don’t kill him!” he stuttered, instantly aware how powerful this suit could be in the wrong hands and how much he sounded like a fool. He’d have swiped his brow if he could have. Mental note to self: Don’t ever—ever—piss her off.

  “Understood,” she responded emotionlessly, like the cold-blooded killer computer program she was. Another note to self: This suit could
cause additional friendly-fire accidents. Strict protocols were needed before ACS became regular GI. More testing. Lots more testing.

  “Wait a minute. Previous readings? Eric’s been in one of these suits before?” The snake!

  “Yes, Agent Reynolds has participated in several preliminary ACS3 trials.”

  Several? Hunter tapped his index finger on the plunger in his hand. Maybe good old Eric needed a shot of this truth serum—in the same cheek Hunter had shot in Beirut. “Lock onto him without shooting him. I just need to know where he is.”

  “Affirmative.”

  Now that he knew Eric’s exact location, the game changed. Hunter proceeded directly to ‘Go.’ Rounding the rig, he stopped at the side door in time to duck a shot. The trailer door opened and a bleeding body tumbled out.

  “Does anyone else think he’s in charge?” Masters roared from inside.

  Hunter looked up at the angry man, now back in a black uniform. Masters looked a little worse for wear. Welts circled his wrists. The right side of his face testified he’d been dragged. Fine by Hunter. He hadn’t expected the jungle life would’ve eaten Masters entirely. Tasted maybe. A man could only hope.

  “Then get the hell out of here. All of you! Next man takes me on will get the same. Clark, bury this SOB.”

  Clark tried to move around Masters at the doorway only to be grabbed by the throat. “Don’t think I won’t,” Masters hissed into his reddened face. “I know damned well you’re behind this little mutiny. I’ve had enough of your whining. I tell you to do something? From now on you’d better be on it like stink on shit.”

  “N-no, sir,” Clark mumbled. “I mean, yes, sir.”

  Hunter stepped back and made room for the party just in time. Masters shoved Clark down the steps and dropped to ground level not two feet from Hunter’s position. His men followed, all nine of them. He stalked forward, glaring, his fists clenched. “I’m finding that bitch today if it’s the last thing I do. Teach wants her dead or alive. Dead works just fine for me.”

  Hunter’s ears pricked to attention. Dead works for me, too. Only it will be you. Not Merry.

  Masters halted at the bizarre scene laid out in camp. He was down to eight men in his renegade army and losing ground fast. “What the hell’s going on?” he roared.

  His eyes widened when Eric moved in quickly and sent another unsuspecting mercenary to dreamland. Hunter added insult to injury, and Clark crumbled alongside the body he was supposed to bury.

  “Gawddamnit!” Masters drew his pistol and backed against the trailer. What was left of his nervous men followed. “Who’s out there?”

  Like an invisible guy would be dumb enough to answer? Hunter rolled one shoulder. Time to change tactics.

  “Agent Hunter,” Helmet Lady’s soft voice interrupted the standoff. “Enemy combatant approaching at your rear. ETA seven seconds and—”

  Hunter flattened his back to the side of the trailer just in time. Masters was panicked enough to—BLAM!

  Damn. He’d just shot his own man.

  “Son-of-a-bitch!” Masters hissed, his weapon lowered a mite too late.

  Hunter had seen this kind of panic before. Fear spread like wildfire and it made men do some crazy stuff. These guys were running scared.

  He upped the ante and stabbed the closest man’s bicep, then ducked behind the rig. Sure enough, when that man keeled over, several of Masters’ men fired wildly.

  Hunter crept back toward Masters and hunkered low. His heads-up display adjusted the crosshairs when Eric crouched to stick the leg of the man nearest him. As the guard dropped, Eric rolled beneath the trailer and out of range.

  Hunter smiled. Good thinking, Reynolds. Since he was already at ground level, he did the same.

  Masters and what was left of his quickly diminishing army sprayed their weapons in all-out panic, killing plenty of jungle greenery while Hunter and Eric delivered two more shots.

  Down went those guards and Masters came unglued, veins bulging off his forehead and down the sides of his neck. “I know you’re out there, Christian! Fight like a man! Show yourself!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  The steady slap-slap of rotor blades in the distance woke Meredith.

  “Don’t move,” Seth whispered, his palm warm and gentle on her wrist. “We’ve got company.”

  Meredith finished another slow stretch. The sun was high, but they were safely concealed by ivy and shade. The helicopter sounded far away. “How long will it take for your boss to get here?”

  Seth pointed directly across the river. “I meant them.”

  That got her attention. She eased upright. Sure enough, two men in dark green cammies stood on the opposite bank, looking upriver before they scanned the opposite shoreline and then downriver.

  “Recognize anyone?” Teague looked pretty sleepy, too.

  “Jordan Hannigan and Lee Hart,” Seth murmured, his voice low and eyes on his buddies. “Keep still. Let’s see how long it takes them to spot us.”

  “Hannigan and Hart, huh? Sounds like a vaudeville act.” Teague’s pistol rested comfortably on his stomach as the pair of snipers crossed the dam over the river. They paused at the third waterfall, but not once did they falter or seem off-balance. One stayed outside scanning the shoreline, his short stock weapon snug to his chest while the other ducked into the cave.

  “Which is which?” Meredith straightened to see them better. The one tramped out of the cave. Both bent their heads together, obviously perplexed.

  “Lee’s the taller of the two,” Seth answered. “Jordan’s cap is backward.”

  Jordan lifted his shoulders at whatever Lee had just asked. Both were a slighter build than Hunter, but obviously ex-military judging by their alert, rigid posture. It didn’t hurt that Jordan’s baseball cap declared TEAM in bright gold, or that both were armed exactly like Hunter. Meredith’s heart skipped a beat.

  “Why the cat-and-mouse game?” Teague asked when Lee’s gaze zeroed in on the shadows behind the vines. “Why not let ’em know we’re here?”

  “Just want to see how long it takes two jarheads to locate regular Army,” Seth replied smoothly.

  In seconds, Jordan and Lee joined them. “Alex said you cut yourself shaving again,” Lee said when he spotted Seth. Nodding to Meredith, he tipped two fingers to his forehead. “Afternoon, ma’am. Are you ready to get back to civilization?”

  A swell of relief filled her. “I am.”

  “Then let’s get these guys ready to travel.” Lee knelt alongside Seth and patted his shoulder, right where he’d been cut. “Where’s it hurt?”

  Seth grimaced. “Not there. Leave me alone.”

  “Here?” Jordan poked the very visible bandages Meredith had personally applied.

  Seth shrugged away from his friend’s teasing manhandling. “Get your grubby paws off me.”

  “Can’t help if we can’t touch,” Lee teased. “Come on, man, seriously. Let’s see how you’re doing.”

  Seth stilled when Lee peeled back the bandage on his bicep. The teasing stopped. “Did you kill the SOB who did this?” Lee hissed.

  “Not yet.” Seth pulled the bandage back down and pressed the tape to secure it. “Where’s Alex?”

  Lee scanned the sky. “Looking for a place to land. He’s in a private chopper. We would’ve been here sooner, but damn. These jungles are full of snakes. Where’s Hunt?”

  “He and Eric left early this morning for Burdette’s camp,” Seth said. “I was hoping they’d be back by now, but—”

  Jordan lifted to his feet. “I’m on it,” he told Lee.

  Seth pointed north. “The camp’s nearly two clicks that—”

  “Don’t worry. I know right where Burdette’s camp is,” Jordan assured as he tapped his forehead. “Mother’s pulled more satellite images than you can imagine. Trust me. I’ll find them.”

  “Stay in touch,” Lee ordered Jordan.

  “Always do.” Without another word, Jordan crossed the dam and ducked into t
he jungle.

  “Is there anything left to salvage from either camp?” Lee asked Meredith.

  “I don’t think so. We managed to get one supply crate, but I think Burdette’s men destroyed everything else.”

  “Would you like to call home?” A gentle smile lit his eyes as he lifted the sat phone off his belt.

  Meredith nodded and latched onto the phone. “Thank you.”

  Courtney answered her parent’s phone on the third ring. ”Hello?”

  She couldn’t hold back her tears. “Hi, sweetie. It’s me.”

  The connection rattled as he shouted, “Gramma! It’s Mama!” Then a bright, “I making brownies!”

  “Are you helping Gramma?”

  “Ah-huh!”

  Meredith could almost see those sweet little blue eyes. Right now he’d be twisting the phone cord on her mother’s old reliable wall unit until he was tangled in it.

  “I miss you, Mama.”

  “I miss you too, and guess what?”

  “What?”

  “I’m coming home real soon. Maybe tomorrow.”

  “Oh, goodie!” Meredith listened as the receiver hit the floor on Courtney’s end. He must have run to tell her mother the news.

  Finally, her mother took over. “How are you, Meredith? How’s your beta test going?”

  “I’m good, Mom,” Meredith hedged. “The test went fine. I’m just tired. It’s been a long couple of days. I should be home in the next day or so.” I hope.

  “Well, don’t worry about a thing. Court’s doing fine, so take all the time you need. Your father and I are taking him to the zoo tomorrow and...” She paused. “You need to know that your ex has been calling.”

  Meredith’s blood ran cold. “Did he say what he wanted?”

  “Oh, yes. He talked my ear off the first time. He wanted to know where you were and what you were doing with your life.”

  “You didn’t tell him, did you?”

  “Heavens no. I never had any use for that boy. He did say something about getting back together though. Be prepared. That man wants something.”