The Zodiac flew over the calm surface of the lagoon, coming in fast and hard. The nose ran up on the sand; the SEAL at the motor easing up just in time to avoid beaching. Spray kicked up as the boat came to a temporary halt.
Gray signaled the go and Mason joined the others in running across the sand. Levi ran like a damned gazelle and not like a man with fifty pounds of explosives strapped to his back. Lips peeled back, Levi's eyes lit up as his adrenaline started pumping. His buddy lived for this shit, and the chance to blow Santiago's hidey-hole up would be the cherry on the mission sundae. They piled in, grabbing on to pontoon lifelines as their driver reversed hard and took them out to sea.
Eight minutes later, they approached the waiting Navy vessel. The Black Hawk waiting on deck was their ride. Sigma Team would be one of two six-man squads. Gray had brought a replacement for Remy and, after a quick round of meet-and-greets, they piled into the chopper and lifted off. Once they were outbound, they went over the forecasts, running through the expected weather, sunrise and tide times.
Gray passed around a photo of Santiago for a double-check of their target and Mason committed the face to memory. Santiago's picture was followed by more pictures of known bodyguards and house servants. Like the rest of the team, he'd already memorized the descriptions of who did what. Santiago wouldn't escape capture by pretending to be someone he wasn't, and the SEALs wouldn't accidentally take down the wrong man.
Levi eyed the approaching jungle cautiously. "You think they got snakes down there?"
Mason flicked him a glance. "You want me to lie to you? Or you want to just shoot anything that slithers?"
Levi shuddered. "I'll take that as a hell yeah. And yes, please."
"You got it." He peered out at the approaching compound. "Almost showtime."
Levi whistled. "Santiago's squatting in a goddamned palace."
The place did look pretty good. Since they were flying low, barely skimming the treetops to stay under any possible radar, their current view would have been a Realtor's wet dream. In the predawn light, the walls protecting Santiago's privacy were lit up with enough wattage to ensure no one got close without Santiago's guards spotting them. The house was two stories with lots of windows and wrought iron French balconies. The Marcos brothers hadn't skimped on the square footage, either, although jungle real estate probably came cheap. According to the plans Mason had reviewed, the mansion was eight thousand square feet. It had two pools, four guesthouses and a ten-car garage that housed a sweet collection of armor-plated Humvees. Cutting off Santiago's access to that particular escape route would be a pleasure.
The teams needed to get in and out quickly, because this op was happening without official sanction. The Belizean army didn't want to know what went down here, so this was a stealth operation.
"Status," Gray said into his headpiece. He listened briefly, then flashed the team a thumbs-up. "We're a go. Stand by."
The Black Hawk descended rapidly over the compound to the garage as the team moved into position. The bird had been modified to make a quiet descent. The crewman tossed the rope out of the open door. Gray went down the line first. After counting to three, Mason followed. The closer they went out the door, the faster they all made it to the ground. Grabbing the rope between his gloved hands and boots, he rode it down like a firehouse pole, the soles of his feet inches above Gray's head. The only thing standing between him and a brutal ground landing was his ability to hang on.
The next three men would be right behind them, moving equally fast because they'd be vulnerable to small-arms fire and Santiago's security while they were on the rope. The rope spun through his gloved hands as the chopper moved slowly forward, dragging the rope. Gray dropped away. Mason counted to two and then let go. The impact vibrated through his body, but he was already weapons up. Ten seconds later, drop complete, the entire team advanced toward the mansion. The house was still quiet. The second squad fanned out to cover the exit points with a 360-degree security perimeter. If Santiago tried to make a run for it, they'd hit him hard.
Levi dropped away to play with his gadgets. He'd rig the garage to blow, the explosion providing a useful decoy. And fun. Blowing stuff up was always satisfying, and Santiago hadn't earned the toys he had parked inside the garage.
Levi popped out of the shadows, moving lighter. "Five minutes to boom time."
"Move in," Gray ordered. "Let's go find our boy."
Breaching the compound was the work of seconds. The front door wasn't locked-stupid bastard-and there were plenty of first-floor windows. The two bodyguards by the front door went down almost silently, clearly not expecting company. Muzzle up, Mason stepped inside behind Gray, sweeping the area with the barrel of his M4.
The plan called for them to sweep the house room by room and secure it. With the first two guards down, the entry was clear. Diego and Santiago lived like kings. Marble tiles lined the palatial entryway beneath a crystal chandelier like one he'd seen in the Liberace Museum in Vegas. He'd bought his mom a little version to hang over her dining room table. She'd have liked this one.
Gray motioned and they took the stairs. Gunfire erupted right as the garage went, the shock wave rocking the larger building. The chandelier bit the ground in an explosion of crystals. Good thing they hadn't been standing there. Mason made a mental note to earthquake-proof his mom's piece. Gray signaled for Levi and Mason to cover the left, and he and Sam moved toward the bedroom on the right.
According to the building plans, the bedrooms were located on the second level. Better yet, the first door they busted open turned out to be the mother lode. Not only was the room full, but the lights were on as the occupants reacted to the sound of gunfire and the explosions.
And...damn it. "We've got nonthreats," he said in low tones into his mouthpiece. Muzzle up, he stepped inside and surveyed. Two women and four-no, five-kids. He'd almost missed the little girl hiding under the table. The minute he and Levi came in, the kids started crying and one of the females came out swinging. Maybe she thought they'd go for the kids, but that was a line he'd never crossed and never would. Mason subdued her, pinning her arms behind her and whipping out his zip ties. "Cálmate," he growled against her ear. "No quiero hacerte daño."
Or maybe she was a decoy, because Santiago sprinted away toward a door on the far side of the room. Shit. Nice for Santiago that he inspired such loyalty, but a pain in the ass for Mason.
"We've got eyes on Santiago," he barked. "Get in here double-time."
"I've got him," Levi growled, already moving. "Show me your hands. Arrondilese y ponga sus manos en la cabeza."
Levi's move left Mason with seven noncombatants. Go him. Levi got to have all the fun. He kept his eyes on their hands. A five-year-old boy usually wasn't a threat, but the best way to stay alive was to assume everything would go wrong. Maybe Santiago left firearms lying around. Maybe he'd taught Santiago Junior to shoot. Mason had also been fired on before by women-and by men dressed as women. So there was no way to know for sure who was friendly and who was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Now that he had the first nonthreat zip-tied and down on the ground, the rest followed. He hated making little kids show their hands, but he'd seen good men shot by making assumptions. Who knew what Santiago and Diego had taught these little guys? Maddie's face flashed through his head, and he knew what she'd think. This was the part of the job that sucked.
Across the room, Levi barked out more Spanish and then, when Santiago failed to comply, cursed. "You've got five seconds to drop the gun."
Naturally, the guy raised the gun.
"Hooyah," Levi said, sounding downright pleasant. "Rules of engagement say I get to plug your ass with my bullet, seeing as how I feel threatened. I'll take Spanish lessons later and explain my feelings to you when you're in US custody."
Right. Time to take care of business. Turning his M4 toward Santiago, Mason squeezed off a round with surgical precision. The bullet smashed into the other man's wrist.
"You took my turn." Levi stepped over and kicked the gun away as Santiago alternated between cursing and bellowing in pain.