“Scar Nine Nine, Mariner One Zero,” Dave whispered, without removing his cheek from the M4’s polymer stock. “In position and moving to the objective.”
“Mariner One Zero, Dusty is green. Continue.”
Dave looked over his shoulder for confirmation that the others were good to go. The clock was ticking, and they needed to find the captured Agency officer and exfil before the Hip ran out of gas. Any undue delay put them at risk of being stranded on the island.
“Mariner One Zero, out.” Dave rose and slipped into the foliage. Although the island was devoid of tourists, multiple P-8A Poseidon and MQ-4C Triton surveillance missions pinpointed the captured officer’s location to within four villas halfway up the hill on the southwest corner of the island. Their task force’s intelligence specialists assessed they would encounter little armed resistance, but he knew better than to take that at face value.
As far as Dave was concerned, half the Chinese army waited for them under the jungle canopy, and he took in his surroundings through the white phosphor night optics that bathed everything around him in an almost natural soft white hue. Compared to older generation night vision goggles that changed everything to a green color, the newer devices put less strain on the eyes and made it easier to spot threats.
Behind him, Todd, Ron, and Graham brought up the rear. All three carried suppressed SOPMOD M4 rifles, but Graham also carried his breaching tool of choice — the Benelli M1014 shotgun loaded with fourteen Aguila Minishells — slung across his back.
The four-man fire team moved with well-rehearsed precision and spread out as they disappeared into the thick foliage and ascended the steep hill. They struggled for several feet of near-vertical elevation gain, then stopped and listened to the wind and insects surrounding them over the noise of their pounding hearts. Despite the intel assessment, they expected to encounter resistance and were on alert for signs of human life, knowing it was early enough to assume guards were still awake. An insertion later in the evening would have been ideal, but they were constricted by the airline’s flight schedule from Honolulu to Bangkok.
Following their brief rest, Dave again led them up the hill. They clawed and scraped for each foot, testing the limits of their ability to remain silent. The terrain was brutal, but they pressed on to the objective, alternating between short bursts of movement and even shorter periods of rest. After their fifth such pause up the hillside, Dave signaled for them to stop and hold their position, then lowered his body into the dense ferns.
The four SEALs rested on the edge of a clearing and peered up at a villa through their NODs. Dave felt the incessant ticking of an internal timer, reminding him that time was one thing they didn’t have in their favor. But he pushed it aside and refused to rush.
Slow is smooth, smooth is fast.
He had complete faith in his team’s ability to clear the villas until they found the captured Agency officer. But whether they were able to do so without encountering armed resistance was beyond his control. No amount of planning or preparation could guarantee that because the enemy always got a vote.
He took a deep breath and gritted his teeth.
It’s go time.
Lisa woke with a start and flailed her limbs in fright. Her right eye had swollen shut, but her left opened just enough to see she was still in the bathtub with her wrists chained to the heavy chrome faucet. The room was dark, but she had grown used to the familiar shadows, and they no longer terrified her. It was the silence that held her frozen, waiting to be shattered by the crash of a door, the stomp of a boot, or an angry voice descending on her.
The brief reprieve from her captors’ torment came to an end not long after they chained her to the tub. She glanced down at the four inches of cold water and noticed it had turned a dark pink, shaded by blood that seeped from multiple open wounds across her body. She shivered, and gooseflesh broke out down her arms and legs, but she was too weak to move. Her body ached from the constant abuse, and her mind swam with horrific memories of unspeakable trauma that gripped her stomach with a sudden bout of nausea.
She took several breaths to regain control over her emotions and looked down at her throbbing feet. A faint sob escaped her lips when she saw the battered flesh, remembering with sudden clarity how her captors had smashed them with a hammer. Each of her ten toes were flattened and bent at unnatural angles, and chunks of skin had been flayed away where fragments of bone protruded. Even if she had the strength to attempt escaping, the blood oozing into the frigid water reminded her she wouldn’t get far.
I can’t make it another day, she thought.
Her eyes slipped closed again, and she tried to imagine a host of rough men descending in the night to free her from her torment and return her to safety. But it was futile. It was a hope she had once longed to manifest into reality, and the one she had given up on days ago.
Just let me die.
29
Dave remained crouched in the vegetation for several minutes before deciding it was safe to advance into the clearing and on to the first villa. In the distance, he heard waves breaking against the rocky southern shore and hoped it was loud enough to drown out their movement. At last, he motioned to the others that he was moving into position.
Taking point, he rose out of the trees and crossed the narrow cement walking path that circled most of the island and approached the first villa. It was identical to each of the other two-story target buildings with a large, curved deck at the rear, suspended eight feet in the air and facing the ocean. Dave made his way under the deck to inspect the posts anchored into concrete footings and dismissed it as a viable option for gaining entry.
He continued around the side of the villa and sighted over his SOPMOD M4 as he made his way up the hill to the front. He knew the main entrance was more exposed, but the need to find the hostage in time outweighed the potential risk of being spotted. He crested the hill and paused for only a second before stepping from the vegetation into the level clearing. A cursory scan of the open space through his NODs confirmed they were alone, and he hurried to the front door with his rifle at the ready.
Dave felt the others stack up behind him as he neared the front door. In his mind, he saw images of the resort’s accommodations from photos they had studied before the mission. He knew they lacked actual floor plans, but most agreed that the first floor was likely a living area furnished with couches and chairs, and a staircase leading to the sleeping area on the second floor. He had trained in kill houses with far less information than that, and he felt a familiar sense of calmness that only comes after hundreds of hours of training in a skill.
He was ready.
Dave reached for the handle and applied gentle pressure to test for resistance. It turned easily, so he paused, reached behind his back, and signaled to prepare for entry in…
Three… two… one…
He turned the handle and pushed the heavy door inward, quickly stepping inside and pivoting to the right to move toward what he saw was a wet bar in the room’s corner. Todd followed on his heels, turned left, and advanced along the wall toward the sliding glass door leading out onto the deck. Their infrared lasers swept the room in overlapping arcs as they scanned for threats.
“Clear right,” Dave said.
“Clear left,” Todd replied.
Ron and Graham stepped into the villa and took up positions on opposite sides of the front door. Graham nudged it closed behind him, then moved to the staircase on the far side of the room. With his rifle pointed up, he leaned his upper body out over the steps, craned his neck to look into the room above, and motioned for the others to advance.