“He’s gotta be,” Travers muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.
There was no smoke coming from the chimney and there hadn’t been since two nights ago, but the property housed three generators so whoever was inside had plenty of juice to stay warm and cozy in spite of the frigid temps if they wanted to. Up here Ramadi was hopefully lulled into a false sense of security in the little hideaway he thought nobody knew about.
In reality one of his inner circle had revealed his location for a nice payday.
Everyone got quiet as the team moved close enough to get a good look at the one-story, log-constructed building. They were nearly an hour away from the closest town, and the nearest neighbor was just shy of two miles south. On arrival they’d set up a secure perimeter to keep any civilians out of the area. Nobody would interfere from here on out.
Another twenty-one minutes passed before Tuck came back on comms. “Location’s secure. No eyes inside, all windows and doors covered except for a few inches of the upper window in the north gable. But we can hear a radio going. What do you want to do?”
Green light. “Execute.”
The team’s breacher kicked in the door and a flashbang exploded. The seven-man team rushed single file into the cabin, disappearing from view for a moment until one of the techs pulled up a live feed streaming from the camera attached to Tuck’s helmet-mounted NVGs.
Matt didn’t move, his gaze locked on the screen. He knew every inch of the cabin by heart, as did his guys, from the floor plan they’d memorized. He watched as they swept the kitchen, the living room, the tiny bathroom on the first floor.
“Clear,” he heard Bauer report.
He has to be in there, Matt thought, his heart thudding harder as the seconds ticked past.
“Heading up to loft area,” Tuck said quietly.
The tension was palpable as Matt and the other agents gathered closer around the laptop to watch as Tuck ascended a short set of wooden stairs, weapon raised to eye-level. Evers and Vance were right behind him, the others providing security below. Tuck’s camera swept around the room and paused on something. The feed was grainy and dark, so Matt couldn’t tell what Tuck was looking at, but from the way he was pausing, it was something important.
No shouts. No shots.
“Clear,” Evers said from the far side of the room.
In the silence that followed Matt heard Tuck lower his weapon. The camera dipped and slowly focused on something lying on the floor near the window.
A body.
“Target’s down. Single shot to the head, and there’s a hole in the gable window,” Tuck said quietly. “Guess we really were late to the party.”
Ah, shit.
Matt removed his Chargers cap and scrubbed a hand over his head before replacing it. “Roger that.” He turned to Celida and Travers, who were both watching the screen, grim-faced. “What do you want to do?”
Travers met his gaze, his expression livid. “Find the shooter.”
****
Concealed by a large rock outcropping that would hide her from any overhead satellites or drones, Briar Jones watched the happenings at the cabin through her high-powered, night vision binoculars. The black balaclava covering her face provided some warmth, but more importantly, it also helped conceal her identity.
A cold blast of wind whistled through the rocks and cut through her special winter gear, but she didn’t move, barely noticed the discomfort. Because the current surge of anger flowing through her veins was keeping her plenty warm at the moment.
Her back teeth clenched together as she stared at the team assembled below. Dammit, that had been way too close. And what the hell? She’d been told no one else had Ramadi’s location.
At least, not yet. They were supposed to leak it later tonight, once she had time to clear out of the area and confirm her kill. Her handler had verified the intel personally. Janaia had never lied to her before, and she was one of the only people on earth Briar trusted. Briar knew this screw-up wasn’t on her.
Clearly the CIA didn’t know everything though, because that team was currently moving up the hillside toward the cabin she’d just moved away from forty minutes ago. Seven men moving in a line, their movements careful and choreographed. Military precise.
Could be SEALs or Delta, but she didn’t think so, even though Ramadi was as dangerous and valuable as they came. More likely FBI’s HRT.
Dammit.
She thought she’d felt something earlier—a tingle at the back of her neck that warned her someone else was out here on the mountain. Must have been this team or their support team, wherever they were. She’d bet not far away.
Even though logic told her to run, escape while she had a lead, years of training and discipline held her in place. Although she knew she had to move, she had to be patient. Wait until they left. If the CIA or FBI were here, they definitely had either a drone or satellites on station right now. Someone would have seen her coming and going earlier, no matter how careful she’d been to stay invisible.