Sean had thought long and hard about exactly how to handle the situation before coming up with his plan. He pressed the buzzer and waited. The Glock sat comfortably in his hand as he waited for the door to open. Eventually he heard footsteps, two sets coming towards the door. Thank God for hardwood floors he thought, preparing himself for the door to open.
Chapter 14
Pyotr’s cell barely rang before he answered the call he had been impatiently expecting. “Sir!” he answered mustering as much deference as possible, given his somewhat irritable mood. The motel they had checked into was a dump but was the closest to their target they had found.
“My name is General Borodin…” came the extremely unexpected response. The booming voice forced Pyotr to remove the cell from his ear and negated the need to keep his partner, Alexa, up to date on the changing situation.
“I have taken over control of this matter and your Director has offered your services to me in the interim.”
“Of course, General.” Pyotr knew exactly who General Borodin was; everybody in SVR did. Just as they knew never to trust him and to thank God every day that they did not work for the GRU and General Borodin.
“Your original orders, do you remember them?”
“Of course,” replied Pyotr, trying to sound as controlled as possible. The impact of what he was being asked to do and the potential repercussions for Russia were enormous. It was bad enough doing it for his own Agency but being an Agent of the SVR doing this for the GRU? The implications had his mind racing.
“Good, do it now!” the voice boomed before the call ended.
Pyotr hit the end button three times on the already dead phone.
“Oh my God,” Alexa exhaled. Her breathing had stopped as she too understood the enormity of the situation, despite her tender years.
Pyotr slumped onto the bed. Thirty years he had given to his country. Thirty years of total devotion to the KGB and SVR and ultimately Mother Russia. He was doomed. They were doomed. After they had carried out their orders, there was no way Borodin would let them live. SVR agents killing a woman and child for the GRU, or even knowing the GRU had had them killed was a death sentence, let alone being the executioners.
Dismay turned to anger as he caught Alexa’s eye. She knew without having to be told.
“Who the fuck is this Sean Fox anyway?” he shouted, banging his fist against the cheap desk.
“The son of the ex-chief of the US Military,” replied Alexa, without thinking.
“Sorry?” asked Pyotr, surprised at Alexa knowing more than he did.
“I googled his name when we got the orders,” she confessed. “Looked it up on the internet,” she explained more fully, given the look of confusion on Pytor’s face. Pyotr was old enough to be her father, perhaps even grandfather, and obviously had not embraced the computer age.
Pyotr remained silent as he computed the information. His brain cells may not be computer age but they were wired for cold war counterintelligence and this had all the makings of some old cold war plan. He shook his head. Whatever it was, Pyotr couldn’t begin to comprehend. He had an order to follow and, like he had for the last thirty years, he would follow it to the letter, even if it did mean his own death. He loved Russia and whatever Russia wanted, Russia got.
He picked up the car keys and with a heavy heart, beckoned Alexa to follow him. He, of course, would help her disappear after the job but Borodin’s GRU was massive, far larger than SVR, with resources just about anywhere. Well anywhere but Laredo Texas obviously. Otherwise, Pyotr and Alexa would have been on their way back to Washington. Alexa had a chance. Pyotr had family back in Russia, he had no chance. This would be his final mission, his swan song.
Pyotr drove as Alexa prepped the weapons, neither spoke as they covered the short distance back to the estate. As they neared the house, Alexa broke the silence. “How do you want to play it?”
“No point beating about the bush, fast and quick?”
“Fine by me!” replied Alexa, cocking the second of the two Tula Arms AS Val silenced assault rifles.
Fast and quick meant exactly that. Pyotr would drive the car as near to the door of the house as possible. They would then assault the door, breeching with a pump action shotgun if necessary before entering the house and killing all inside. They would then exit as quickly as possible. Time on site would be sub one minute if possible.
“Shit!” exclaimed Alexa from nowhere.
“What? What’s wrong?” Pyotr looked around anxiously, desperate to see what she had spotted.
“The boy! We never told them about the boy being kidnapped!”
Pyotr pulled the car over to the side of the road, just before the entrance to the target street. He drummed his fingers against the dash as he leaned over the steering wheel, deep in thought.
“Fuck 'em” he said eventually. “I’m not overly keen to shoot a four year old. Nothing we can do, we’ll just say he wasn’t there. I’m fairly certain a four year old American boy is no great threat to Mother Russia!”
He put the car back in gear and pulled away without further discussion. Pyotr just wanted the whole thing over with. He entered the street and accelerated towards the house.
As they skidded into the driveway, the first and most worrying thing Pyotr noted was that the front door was wide open.
Chapter 15
Katie’s heart stopped. Sean stood before her on the front step. Miguel must have shot her. She must be dead. Sean was dead. He couldn’t be standing there in front of her. It wasn’t possible. Her mind raced while her body remained rigid. Her mouth froze. She was unable to speak for fear of stopping the vision.
Katie felt a hand push at her as the world exploded in her ears. A flash from Sean. She was seeing the light. She was dead.
The wife opened the door and just stood agape looking at him. Sean had the pistol up and ready. His plan was fairly simple, kill anybody that was a threat and get information on the boy from whoever was left. Time was of the essence.
A hand pushed at the woman as one of the Mexicans came from behind the door, obviously keen to find out who was there as the woman had just become comatose. As he spotted Sean, he tried to put the woman between him and Sean but Sean had him and squeezed off a round, catching the Mexican between the eyes. He dropped to the floor already dead.
Sean knew there was at least one more shooter and with no time to sugarcoat his actions, he pushed the wife to the floor and stormed into the house. She screamed almost as soon as she hit the floor. The Mexican’s brain matter did not make the most pleasant of landing spots.
Two rounds thudded into the doorframe next to Sean, indicating that the other shooter was in the room opposite. Sean had to keep moving. He dived across the hallway and positioned himself against the wall. All he needed now were a couple of flash bangs and he’d be good to go. One through the doorway quickly followed by himself. Bang bang bad man down. Easy.
A blast of gunfire had Sean falling to the ground. A white-hot pain seared though his leg. Sean grabbed at his leg and was rewarded with a moistness that screamed blood. Sean looked for another shooter before the realization of the American dream home hit home. The walls were paper-thin. The shooter had hit him through the wall. Another burst of fire tore another line of holes. Fortunately the shooter had gone higher and not lower; he hadn’t realized he had already hit Sean.
“Fuck this,” thought Sean diving for the doorway. The rounds were working away from the door not towards it.
As Sean fell into the room, the young Mexican’s rifle was pointing at the far wall. Sean didn’t hesitate and double tapped him. One in the chest and one in the head; it always paid to make sure.