Daniel and Melendez had chosen the longer-range M1A, a close relative of the venerable 7.62mm M-14 rifle, which saw extensive action in Korea and Vietnam and continued to serve as a battlefield sniper weapon. The SOCOM was designed using lighter materials and featured a shorter barrel, which increased the operator's maneuverability in close quarters battle, but reduced the effective sniping range of the rifle. Still, a skilled shooter could easily hit targets at 400 yards with the steel sights, reaching out even further with magnified optics. He didn't foresee any problems with the delivery of highly accurate fire to cover the assault team's approach.
All of their weapons were fitted with suppressors. Fayed, Paracha and Munoz carried the Mk 18 Mod 0 rifles used earlier in the day at the laboratory. Equipped with unmagnified EOTech sights, they would be more reliable inside the house or on the immediate grounds. Their directive was to advance quickly under direct cover fire from Daniel and Melendez.
Once Daniel snapped his vest together and fitted his headset, he started jogging toward the trees directly ahead of them. He wanted to be in position when the three men crossed the open area. He loaded his rifle on the move. Melendez sprinted west, looking for a position located roughly one hundred yards across the point, where he could scan for targets on the far side of the house. Spread apart among the trees, the two of them could effectively clear the entire approach to the house and eliminate patrols. He reached the pines and raised his rifle, scanning for targets among the thick tree trunks. He easily trampled the thin layer of newly formed spring brush, reaching the edge of the tree line and staring out at the expanse of ground leading to the house.
He counted two patrols in plain sight and located another possible sentry at the edge of a cluster of smaller trees near the house. The house itself was massive, measuring at least one hundred and fifty feet across. He stared at the stone-laden, modern post-and-beam structure, which featured five chimneys protruding from the green metallic roof. He was truly impressed with the sheer size and quality of design. Apparently, bottling the earth's water and selling it was a lucrative business.
The western end of the two-story vaulted-roof house angled north, featuring a four-bay garage. Several SUVs and trucks crowded the driveway in front of the garage, possibly belonging to security personnel or guests. He didn't see any obvious luxury vehicles among them, or the telltale black Suburbans used by most government agencies. This might purely be a True America gathering, which suited him best. There would be no survivors.
He stared through the rifle's ACOG scope at the windows along the front of the house. Not surprisingly, the front of the house contained few windows. Like most lake homes, windows were an afterthought on the landward side, deferring to vast ceiling-to-floor glass facing the water. Beyond the three patrols in front of him, he spotted one additional guard standing under the home's covered porch entrance. He highly doubted anyone was stationed in one of the small windows. This might be easier than he had originally predicted. He crawled forward a few more feet to clear brush and extended the rifle's bipod, resting it on the soft ground. He now had a perfect one hundred and eighty degree view of his killing field.
"Overwatch One is set. Confirm four targets in front of the house, including the front porch," he said.
"Overwatch Two is set. Three targets in range on western side. I'll take the front porch."
Daniel didn't protest. Melendez was an excellent shot. Several seconds passed before he heard Melendez again.
Melendez sighted in on the sentry standing on the front porch and eased his breath. Firing a single 7.62mm bullet accurately through a sixteen-inch barrel at a target more than 700 feet away wouldn't be easy. At this range, the M1A's standard twenty-two-inch barrel would be more appropriate, but their mystery benefactor had opted for a conservative mix of multipurpose weapons. A wise decision given the uncertainties that existed yesterday. He couldn't complain, though he'd much prefer to take down the closer patrols, then move a few hundred feet closer to compensate for the short barrel. Unfortunately, the guard standing at the top of the steps was in the ideal surveillance position, representing the greatest threat to their element of surprise. He'd have to go first.
Melendez aimed at the stationary guard's nose and raised the rifle's barrel less than a millimeter to compensate for the distance. He'd be happy to land the shot anywhere between the man's throat and forehead. Any lower and the bullet could strike the man's ballistic vest. Any higher and it could deflect off his skull. Either of those scenarios would drop him temporarily, but could give him a chance to raise the alarm. Melendez needed a clean shot that would either instantly kill or paralyze the target. He nudged the ACOG's vertical crosshair directly in the center of guard's head and added another ounce of pressure to the trigger. The rifle bucked into his shoulder, sending the round downrange.
Melendez brought the ACOG's sight picture back to the door, centered roughly on the space previously occupied by the guard. Before firing, he had taken a mental picture of the background, lining up fixed objects with the hash marks just beyond the target. He could see a significant scarlet mess on the wooden door twenty feet back from the front of the porch. A mess like that could only mean one thing. He confirmed the fatal headshot and passed the report.
"Front door target is down," crackled his earpiece.
Aleem Fayed started running toward the house. He was looking at traversing about three football fields at a full run, loaded down with gear. As one of the Middle East operatives, his training focus had been field craft and close-in engagements. As he hit the fifty-yard point, he was glad that Sanderson had pushed their physical training so hard. Fayed had never ceased to bitch up a storm on one of their ten-mile conditioning runs or during the course of an unannounced hike in the woods. Sanderson and Fayed clearly had a different concept of the word "hike." Realizing that he still had a full minute of running in his immediate future, Fayed promised himself never to complain again.
He could feel the burn in his legs from the sprint, but his lungs still felt strong thanks to Sanderson's routine. He'd need that lung capacity when he reached the house. Daniel's plan didn't include a short break to regain their breath. They would go to work on the house immediately, assuming they reached the house intact. The two guards in the distance were still standing as he closed the distance, forcing him to wonder why Daniel hadn't started firing. If he approached any closer, one of them was bound to hear him and turn around, which could eliminate the element of surprise.
The guard closest to their small group was located fifty yards away, slightly offset from their path. He was faced away from them, walking toward the house, but that could change at any moment. He heard Daniel's rifle cough, sending a bullet somewhere downrange, but the sentry in front of him didn't fall. A guard Fayed hadn't spotted dropped to the ground at the edge of the tree cluster near the house. Now he was screwed. He raised his rifle and stopped, sighting in on the guard along their path. There was no way he hadn't seen the other guard's head explode. A snap passed Fayed's head, and the heavily equipped sentry in Fayed's sights dropped his rifle, reaching up for his neck with both hands. The guard sank to his knees as another bullet sailed overhead, eventually striking the furthest lookout in the forehead, just above the binoculars he had raised to his face. Daniel's voice came through his earpiece.
"Assault, the path is clear. Advise if you see more targets."
Fayed leapt forward, quickly acknowledging the fact that Daniel had perfectly coordinated his shooting, prioritizing the targets according to threat level against the assault team. He felt a little better running blindly across Daniel's killing field. He just hoped that True America didn't have someone with similar skills.