Jake signaled Kaplan and they both took careful aim at their designated targets.
As the woman approached the taller man, he slapped her with the back of his hand. She fell to her knees.
Wiley’s voice in the headset, “Now.”
Jake and Kaplan fired at the same time striking their targets in the neck with the darts. Jake watched both men grab their necks and fall to the rocky ground. The sedative worked fast rendering its victims unconscious.
“Well done.” Wiley’s voice again.
The darts could be removed after fifteen seconds but had to remain attached for at least that length of time. Wiley told Jake the dose he used guaranteed unconsciousness for at least six hours, depending, of course, on the size of the person. Jake and Kaplan’s only instruction was to make sure their shots were on target. “You hit them and my formula will take care of the rest.” Wiley had said.
As instructed, Jake followed Kaplan into the compound where he moved the unconscious men into sitting positions on either side of the oversized double doors of the palace. Jake pulled the darts from the men’s necks, placed a plastic cap over the needle and put them in his coat pocket.
“What do you see?” Jake whispered into his headset.
“When you walk in the front door, there will be a wall on either side for the first five or six feet. Like a foyer area, then the room opens up. There will be four columns positioned equal distance around the center of the room.” Wiley said. “To the right is the stairwell to the upper floors and in front of the stairwell is what looks like a table. Both men appear to be sitting at the table.”
“Any movement upstairs?” Jake asked.
“No.” Wiley said. “My bet is the guard is asleep.”
“When we open the door, both men will be alerted. Probably with guns pointed our direction.” Kaplan said.
“Again, let Baraka go in first.” Wiley said. “At the very least she has to get them to lower their weapons. When they have relaxed their guard, I’ll signal and you two can take them out.”
Baraka gathered her bag, “I go now.”
“You are very brave.” Jake said. “Be careful.”
Collins finished his sandwich and threw the garbage on the back floorboard of the rental. He pulled out his newly purchased e-reader, flipped on the mini-light, and read to pass the time.
Dressed in full black, he was ready for his revenge. He would blend into the darkness and furtively take the next step in his complex plan to draw his prey to him. He read until it was time, turned off his e-reader, grabbed his pack from the back seat, and started the quarter-mile trek to the mansion.
Avoiding the streetlights near the Heatherwood Baptist Church, he walked behind the church through a parking lot to the tree line on the northern boundary of the property. Tucked behind a tree, he waited. Within a minute, there was a break in the traffic — no cars in sight — he darted across four lanes and a median and into the woods at the corner of Forest Road and Shenandoah Boulevard.
He retraced his path from earlier when he had planted the device. The same path he’d used several times earlier while he observed the patterns of the elderly couple. The old man, a retired public servant with some elevated status, was of declining health and had been unable to drive for almost a year. The woman was still in good health for her age, working in her garden plot and swimming daily in the pool that overlooked their private pond.
The Forest Road property contained a large secluded home with a guesthouse. The thick copse of trees that masked the main house from the guesthouse, also gave the owners a false sense of security. Those same trees provided Collins several prime viewing locations into the rear of the home. Another mistake the owners made — no window treatments. Through his high-powered binoculars, Collins recorded their movements by viewing through the glass enclosure.
He watched the old man and woman pour their nightly drinks, sort through and swallow their pills, and retire for the night.
Collins checked his watch.
Right on schedule.
CHAPTER 32
Jake followed Baraka through the front door. She moved toward the middle of the room while he and Kaplan hid behind the wall to their immediate right.
The bottom floor of the Hajjah Palace was a spacious, open room with ornate carvings along the woodwork and stone finishing. Its dirty walls revealed the outlines of picture frames and murals that once hung many years ago. The palace was long overdue for restoration like so many of Hajjah’s other buildings.
Jake didn’t care. These people lived in squalor. They allowed all their historic architecture to decay with time. The desert took its toll on more than just the people trying to carve out a living in the desolate region.
The men yelled at Baraka when she entered the room. Jake heard guns clattering and his pulse quickened. Baraka was talking fast in a language he didn’t understand. He knew she was nervous by the pitch in her voice. Kaplan said she was a woman of conviction and he was confident in Kaplan’s judgment.
After a few seconds of shouting the voices calmed yet remained tense. Baraka’s speech got louder as she repeated the same words.
Jake extended his mini-mirror around the corner to observe what was happening. One man held a knife to her throat while the other man pointed a gun at her. The men were similar in height but one was thin and the other overweight. The thin man was older, he held the gun.
She kept talking. Her speech rapid fire. Jake’s finger tightened on the trigger. The woman held out the bag and said something. The man grabbed the bag and dumped the contents on the table. Food.
The older man held up a finger and shouted. The overweight man lowered the knife. Baraka’s speech slowed to normal. She gathered up the food and stuffed it back in the bag. The older man pointed toward a back room somewhere behind the stairwell. Both men put their weapons on the table and moved away. As they did, Baraka dropped the bag on the floor, reached under her burqa, and pulled out a gun.
“Shit.” Jake dropped the mirror. “Go.”
Jake and Kaplan ran toward the men. The older man moved for his gun and Kaplan fired a shot. The dart hit him in the neck and he fell to the floor. The overweight man knocked the gun from Baraka’s hand, grabbed his knife from the table, and pushed the blade to her neck.
Jake moved to the left, Kaplan to the right.
“Shoot.” Baraka shouted.
As Jake and Kaplan moved farther apart, the man focused on Kaplan.
“Shoot.” She said again.
The man yelled something and Kaplan moved to the man’s far left. As he turned, Jake took the shot. The dart hit the target. The man fell and so did Baraka. She grabbed her neck but blood was already oozing through her fingers.
“We have a problem.” Kaplan said into his voice-activated microphone. “One of the men cut Baraka in the neck and she’s bleeding.”
“I okay,” she said. “I okay.”
“Whatever you do, do it fast.” Wiley said into their headsets. “The guy upstairs is moving your way.”
Jake leaned over and moved Baraka’s hand from the wound. “She’s right, Gregg. It’ll be okay.”
“How the hell do you know?” Kaplan said. “You’re no doctor.”
“No. But I do know what a neck wound looks like that isn’t okay.” Jake started dragging the old man against the wall. “Just hold pressure, it’ll slow in a few minutes.”
“I hold pressure.” Baraka said. “Go get girl.”
“Are you sure? Kaplan asked.