The Hunters h-1

by Chris Kuzneski

  When it came to gun laws, New York City had some of the strictest in the nation. Callahan knew he could bust all of them on felony charges if he had wanted to. Instead, he tried to use the threat of arrest to obtain more information about that night’s events while Koontz filmed the scene from afar.

  Callahan realized the odds of getting information from one of Kozlov’s men was pretty unlikely, especially with so many of them packed together. But he hoped this approach would spook someone into revealing something of value in the crowd.

  As luck should have it, one of the lead guards spotted Callahan and spread the word through the ranks: if anyone told the Feds about the upcoming art auction or about the intruder who had tried to rob the basement vault, the offending party would be shot in the face and fed to the sharks. That message was repeated again and again in Russian and Ukrainian until everyone on the street had gotten the word.

  Unfortunately for them, Koontz got it, too.

  Inside the van, he laughed at the irony of the warning. By telling his underlings what they shouldn’t say, the lead guard had actually revealed everything.

  That was taking stupid to a whole new level.

  Koontz was still laughing when his partner reached the van. He looked forward to briefing Callahan on everything he had heard — and how he had obtained it — but before they had a chance to speak, gunfire rang out from across the street.

  Koontz threw open the van door and pulled Callahan inside.

  ‘Who the hell is shooting?’ Callahan demanded.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Koontz said as he turned his attention to the van’s computer system. He punched a few keys and tried to locate the source of the sound, using the parabolic microphones that a tech team had covertly planted around the neighborhood.

  Callahan checked his weapon. Unlike the thugs outside, he was legally allowed to shoot people in Brighton Beach. ‘Please be Kozlov. I want to be the one to arrest him.’

  Koontz shook his head. ‘Sorry. He’s shouting, not shooting.’

  ‘Figures. What’s he shouting about?’

  ‘He just yelled, kill them both.’

  ‘There are two of them?’

  Koontz nodded. ‘That’s what “both” means.’

  Callahan sneered. ‘And both of them are in the house?’

  He shook his head. ‘Were. They were in the house. They just jumped off a balcony into Kozlov’s pool.’

  Callahan waited for more. ‘And?’

  ‘And nothing. The guards are looking for them.’

  ‘Then so are we,’ Callahan said as he opened the van door. ‘If they’ve been inside Kozlov’s house, we need to find them before the guards do.’

  Jack Cobb was soaking wet, but at least he was alive.

  And, thankfully, so was Sarah.

  Water poured from his suit as he yanked her from the pool. He had millions of questions for his partner-in-crime, but they would have to wait for now. There was little time for chitchat with Kozlov’s guards giving chase.

  Despite the danger, Sarah scolded him as they hustled toward the fence in the back of the grounds. ‘I could have done it myself, you know. I didn’t need your help.’

  ‘I could see that,’ Cobb replied sarcastically. ‘You had them right where you wanted.’

  ‘It wasn’t them,’ she countered. ‘It was one man. No, scratch that. It was the man. I could have ended everything right there.’

  ‘Ended what, exactly? Our mission wasn’t to kill him. It was to rob him. You need to put your Agency training behind you. The only way you’ll survive as a criminal is to think like a criminal.’

  ‘But I’m not a criminal!’ she insisted.

  ‘Not yet, you aren’t. That’s what I’m trying to tell you!’

  Sarah realized there was no point in arguing. They could pick up this discussion later, once they had evaded the Russians and made it safely to their rendezvous.

  That is, if they made it to their rendezvous.

  ‘Okay, Mr Helper,’ she said as they scaled the fence together. ‘Now that you’ve decided to get involved, what exactly do you have in mind?’

  Cobb scurried to his right and scanned the terrain. ‘I say we run down the beach as fast as we can and hope the Russians don’t catch us.’

  ‘That’s it? That’s your big plan? I swoop down like a bat in the middle of the night and break into the most heavily guarded compound this side of the White House, and your big plan is to run as fast as we can?’

  Cobb shrugged. ‘Part of it.’

  ‘Wonderful. What’s the other part?’

  He fought the urge to smile. ‘Hey McNutt, can you hear me?’

  A new voice entered the conversation. ‘I can hear you, I can hear her, and I can hear gunfire. The only thing I can’t hear is the nerd. Is he still on the line?’

  ‘Still here,’ Garcia assured them.

  ‘Oh goody,’ McNutt teased, ‘if we have any questions about Star Wars or time travel, we’ll be sure to let you know.’

  Cobb cut them off. It was bad enough that Sarah was giving him lip. He couldn’t afford antics from the other guys on the team, too. Not with hostiles in hot pursuit.

  ‘Josh, what’s your position?’ Cobb asked.

  ‘Two hundred yards west,’ McNutt answered.

  ‘Sarah and I are headed your way. We’re going to need cover.’

  ‘It’s about time. Shoot to kill?’

  Cobb shook his head. ‘That’s a negative.’

  McNutt grumbled but followed his orders.

  8

  The man with the dirty beard and unkempt hair had been patrolling the sand with his metal detector for several hours. His ratty clothes and strange demeanor kept passersby at a safe distance, not that there were many at this time of night. Every so often he would dig in the sand and search for buried treasure, but he never came up with anything more substantial than an aluminum can or a foil wrapper.

  To most observers, he fit in with half the scavengers who roamed the beaches at night. Over the years, Kozlov’s guards had dealt with so many of these people that they had learned the best way to handle them was to simply ignore them. That might have been a wonderful policy for tourists, but it wasn’t the best strategy when it came to guard duty. If Kozlov’s men had been paying closer attention, they would have realized the crazy man in the Hawaiian shirt wasn’t searching for treasure, he was actually planting devices in the sand. And the ‘metal detector’ that he had been using for half the night couldn’t actually detect metal — but it sure as hell could deliver it.

  As Josh McNutt climbed the steps of the lifeguard shack, he detached the circular ‘sensor’ from the end of the bar and examined its contents. He had loaded fifty high-powered rounds into the custom drum magazine. He checked the barrel and the stock that been disguised as the unit’s shaft and stabilizer, then pulled himself on the roof of the stand. By the time he reached the edge, he had reassembled the metal detector into its preferred configuration: an Armalite AR-30.308 Winchester sniper rifle.

  ‘I’m in position,’ McNutt informed the team.

  ‘Beta plan is a go,’ Cobb confirmed in his ear.

  ‘Beta — as in Beach Bum.’

  ‘No more jokes,’ Cobb snapped. ‘Watch our six.’

  ‘Can’t I do both?’ McNutt asked rhetorically.

  The alpha plan was simple, as most plans were on paper. Sarah would infiltrate the mansion from the sky, find the package, secure it, and make her way back to the rooftop. From there, she would travel across the tops of several neighboring buildings until she could safely descend to street level.

  As for Cobb, he would blend in with the guards outside the house, ready to provide on-site support at a moment’s notice. McNutt and his sniper rifle would remain at a distance, in position to cover their escape. Meanwhile, Garcia would monitor all electronic aspects of the operation and update them on the status of everyone involved: the guards, the Feds, and innocent bystanders.

  Unfortunately, plans chan
ge.

  Now that the Russians had been alerted to their activities, the team had to adapt to the situation. Using real-time satellite images, Garcia was able to direct Cobb and Sarah into the shadows of the nearby houses and through the first wave of guards. The duo were more than a block from Kozlov’s mansion, but they were far from safe. They knew his henchmen were somewhere in the dark behind them, and stopping only closed the distance.

  ‘They’re hunting in packs like wild dogs,’ Garcia informed them. ‘The good news is they don’t have your scent. The bad news is they’re getting close.’

  Cobb slipped off his soggy jacket. ‘Civilians?’

  ‘Plenty,’ Garcia said. ‘But it will be tough to blend in. Everyone knows everyone in this part of town. The only visitors are here for the beach.’

  Cobb smiled. ‘That’s exactly what I had in mind.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Sarah asked, confused.

  He inspected her from head to toe. ‘Take off your pants.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ she barked. ‘What the hell do you mean, “take your pants off”? What exactly do you think-’

  Cobb brought a finger to his lips, asking her to stop.

  Normally, he would have reached out and clamped his hand over someone’s mouth, ensuring his or her silence. But he had the feeling that with Sarah, such action might have resulted in the loss of a finger … or a testicle.

  ‘Look at yourself,’ he explained. ‘You’re not going to blend in like that. Right now you don’t even have a face.’

  ‘How does taking off my pants make things better?’

  McNutt chimed in. ‘In my experience, it never makes things worse!’

  Cobb removed his shirt, exposing washboard abs. He wasn’t as fit as he had been in his twenties, but he was still in better shape than most. ‘Kozlov saw you in the catsuit. We have to assume he spread the word to all his guards. They’ll be looking for someone dressed in black.’

  ‘Fine!’ Sarah conceded. She quickly unlaced her booties, kicked them off, and peeled off the lower half of her suit. Standing there in a black thong, she mockingly posed for Cobb. ‘Happy?’

  He turned his head from the athletic blonde, focusing his attention on his shoes and socks. She was stunning, he had to admit, but there was a time and place to acknowledge it. That sure as hell wasn’t now. ‘What about your bra?’

  ‘Screw you!’ she snapped. ‘I’m not showing you my boobs!’

  ‘Now we’re talking!’ McNutt said, trying to find her in his sniper’s scope. ‘Should I get undressed, too?’

  Cobb tried to explain as he took off his own pants. Underneath, he was wearing a pair of boxer briefs that looked like swimming trunks. ‘That’s not what I meant. Does your bra look like a bikini, or does it actually look like underwear?’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, finally understanding his meaning. ‘It’s a sports bra.’

  ‘Great. Hurry and take off your top.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘My prom date said the exact same thing.’

  Cobb smiled. ‘You can tell me about that later. For now, let’s worry about getting out of here.’ He changed his focus to his earpiece. ‘McNutt, how we looking?’

  ‘Good enough for a threesome.’

  ‘Focus!’ Cobb demanded. ‘Are we clear?’

  ‘Not really,’ McNutt answered, ‘but the situation isn’t going to get better anytime soon. You should move now before it’s too late.’

  Cobb nodded at Sarah, who looked like a swimsuit model in her bra and panties. She reluctantly stuffed her catsuit in a trash barrel as they made their way onto the beach. Cobb put his arm around her shoulder to complete the look of two lovers headed for a late-night swim, but the only thing bulging in his shorts was a concealed pistol.

  Koontz called for backup from the van while Callahan started his search for the two intruders. He knew he was taking a big risk by putting himself in the line of fire while his partner stayed behind, but Callahan saw this was a special opportunity. If they could prove through eyewitness testimony that Kozlov’s vault was filled with stolen art, then they could get the warrants they needed to search the mansion.

  In Callahan’s mind, that would be a career changer.

  No more vans. No more stakeouts. No more bullshit.

  He would finally get the respect he deserved.

  Oh, and Koontz might benefit, too.

  Callahan, who had several years of tactical experience and was an expert on Kozlov’s local infrastructure, realized only the dumbest thieves in the world would try to escape through the streets of Little Odessa where thousands of interlopers would be willing to help Kozlov. On the other hand, a smart criminal would head toward the beach where they could use the darkened waters of the Atlantic to slip away unnoticed.

  Running as fast as he could, Callahan dashed between Kozlov’s mansion and his neighboring guardhouse, hoping to spot the intruders before they reached the water. He had no idea who he was looking for, but he hoped someone would stand out.

  Unfortunately, that someone turned out to be him.

  9

  During combat situations, it is quite common for inexperienced personnel to make astoundingly stupid mistakes. Whether it’s the rush of adrenalin, the fear of death, or a combination of the two, new recruits have been known to do the dumbest things — the kind of errors that lead to casualties and bloodshed.

  It has been that way since the dawn of time.

  When Kozlov first sounded the alarm, word quickly spread through the ranks that two intruders had been spotted: one dressed in black, the other dressed in a suit. Eventually, other details emerged. The second suspect was a middle-aged white guy. Average build. Average height. And armed with a semi-automatic. Caution should be used when taking him out because the Feds were snooping around.

  Somehow that message was garbled along the way. Maybe it was lost in translation. Or maybe it was something else. Whatever the reason, the four guards on beach patrol heard the following: Use caution when taking out the Fed.

  He is the middle-aged white guy dressed in a black suit.

  Unfortunately for Callahan, that described him perfectly.

  He hoped to find the intruders on the beach, but quickly found himself in the crosshairs of half the Russian Army, who chased him with guns blazing.

  One moment he was the hunter.

  The next he was the prey.

  Cobb and Sarah flinched when they heard the gunshots. They quickly realized that they weren’t the targets — but one of the FBI agents was.

  ‘Shit,’ they said in unison.

  In their former lives, both had served their country with pride. Cobb was an ex-soldier, and Sarah had worked for the CIA. At one time or another, each of them had benefited from outside assistance, so neither was willing to leave the agent in his time of need, even if it meant hindering their own escape.

  ‘McNutt,’ Cobb said to his sniper.

  ‘Already on it,’ McNutt assured him.

  Agent Callahan had no idea what he had stumbled into.

  Fortunately for him, McNutt had his back.

  He fired four times in rapid succession. The first three ripped through his targets’ knees, instantly dropping them to the ground. The fourth hit a guard in his ass cheek simply because McNutt was tired of shooting them in their knees. From this distance — with this rifle and this scope — he could have shot off a nipple if he had wanted to.

  Callahan seized the opportunity to hide, diving behind a red canoe that was upside down in the sand. He didn’t know who had shot the guards or why they were willing to rescue him, but he said a short prayer of thanks while keeping his head low.

  The guards on the street heard the gunshots on the beach. A moment later, they heard the wails of men who had never taken a bullet.

  The sound was unmistakable.

  Like injured coyotes calling to their pack, the screams of the injured men were an announcement to the entire community. Their message was loud and clear: Everyone, come quick! They�
�re right here! Just follow the sound of my voice!

  The gunmen came in astonishing numbers.

  Cobb drew his pistol and turned toward Kozlov’s mansion. He couldn’t see them yet, but he knew the Russians were coming. They weren’t the most highly trained guards, but they were headstrong and dedicated to their cause. And there were dozens of them. He and Sarah crouched low, waiting for the inevitable firefight.

  ‘Get moving!’ McNutt demanded. ‘Get to the water behind me! You’ll be okay once your feet hit the surf.’

  Cobb argued. ‘We’ll never make it if we don’t slow them down. Without a show of force, they’ll-’

  ‘Just get to the water!’ McNutt shouted. ‘Let me worry about the show of force. You guys just turn and run.’

  Neither Cobb nor Sarah moved.

  McNutt kept shouting. ‘Do it now, or I’ll shoot you myself!’

  With that, Cobb and Sarah sprinted toward the water.

  As gunmen emerged on the beach, McNutt picked them off, one by one. Eventually they slowed down and hunkered behind garbage cans, sand dunes, and whatever else they could find to offer them protection from the hail of bullets.

  But the break was only momentary.

  They quickly realized they severely outnumbered the intruders, so they spread their troops out wide. McNutt tried to keep pace — sweeping his rifle from left to right and back again — but he couldn’t compete with the sheer numbers. It seemed that every man he shot was instantly replaced by another, who was equally willing to take a bullet. McNutt was happy to oblige, but his single-shot rifle limited his effectiveness.

  ‘Screw this,’ McNutt said. ‘I’m going to plan C.’

  Cobb glanced at Sarah. ‘Plan C? What’s plan C?’

  ‘No idea,’ she admitted.

  ‘Me, neither,’ Garcia said in their ears.