recalled her words.
Jess realized how futile her backup plan had become in this remote place, but decided to err on the side of caution for once in her life. She reached under her shirt, pulled out the necklace, and pushed down on the gem. The stone clicked and held in place. If the bling alert worked, Alexa’s alliance would put out the word on her emergency, and eventually she’d get a call from the woman herself, if her social calendar had an opening.
Of course, if she and Payton ran into Globe Harvest here on St. Lawrence Island, it would be too late, but there was always a bright side. At least Alexa would know where to find their bodies.
As Payton had warned, none of this was going to be easy, but they’d come too far to give up now. She wanted this as much for herself as she did for Nikki. Never giving up on this case had fueled an inner strength, and she felt empowered by the newfound sense of control.
They’d make one last push to find Nikki, and Jess prayed it would be enough.
In night vision gear, Alexa moved with her primary entry team down a short slope, holding her H&K MP5/10 submachine gun fitted with a suppressor. She kept her eyes alert for any suspicious activity as she shuffled in bent knee stance with weapon raised, making her way toward the breach point.
In her bag of tricks, she carried flash-bangs, stingers, and tear gas grenades to create a diversion as her team launched their initial assault. Others would follow behind her men, a planned attack. The perimeter had already been contained, and Garrett had responsibility for the sniper unit. She trusted these men to cover her backside.
Without being detected, she and her men converged at the entry point. As expected, the place was in shambles and looked deserted. Hard to imagine Globe Harvest operated in this dump, but thermal imagers confirmed the presence of warm bodies, and they had picked the optimal entry point to maintain the element of surprise. Shock and awe was the name of the game, their objective to overwhelm the hostage takers inside with their firepower and quick assault, giving them no time to react.
Her team waited for her order. She took a deep breath, but nothing would stop the sensation she had come to accept. She felt the rush of adrenaline assault the inside of her ears, and her heart pounded into her throat, part of the deadly game. If all went well, their siege would be over in a matter of minutes, hopefully without loss of life.
At least, she prayed that would be the case. Rock steady on the outside, she gave the hand signal, and all hell cut loose in her world.
“Sir, we have a breach.”
Petrovin heard the man’s voice from across the security control room. He shut his eyes and clenched his jaw until he could continue.
“That helicopter from earlier, is it them?” he asked.
Just before he’d taken the girl to the operating room, he’d gotten word that an aircraft was circling the perimeter of the compound. This happened from time to time, mostly government types collecting soil samples. With the notoriety of the radar station and the PCB contamination, it had been a perfect deterrent for curious eyes. He had hoped that the intruders would have moved on by now. But apparently they had stopped for a closer inspection.
“Yes, sir, I think so,” the man replied. Stas shook his head, amazed at the man’s ineptitude, but his man redeemed himself when he clarified, “With our surveillance, I spotted two Alaska troopers, but there’s a man and a woman who’ve gotten inside the outer compound. There could be others, but we’ve got to counter, sir. What are your orders?”
Stas imagined firing a submachine gun into the fools who dared to mess with him. In his head, yet not entirely absent of personal experience, he heard the meaty thud of the bullets and imagined bloody carnage at his feet. But he knew what Anton Bukolov would want, and he’d reluctantly comply.
In a line, Alexa’s team moved through shadowy corridors in a stack formation, using her free hand on the shoulder of the man in front as a guide. Her other hand gripped her weapon, always prepared to use it. Her team cleared one room at a time, prepared to deal with resistance as they went.
“Go, go, go.”
One of her men blasted down another closed door with a battering ram. Night vision gear painted the interior in eerie shades of green as she tossed in a flash-bang, then diverted her eyes so the blast wouldn’t blind her.
She knew from experience that a blinding white light would sear the dark. And a glowing ball of fire would radiate like a shock wave in all directions, followed by a billowing stench. Even now, the blast resonated into the corridor where she stood ready to move in.
The fierce image would leave its imprint on the eyes of anyone inside the room. The white light would hang suspended in darkness then splinter into spangles, blurring the vision of anyone looking directly at it. In a daze, those affected would have minimal hearing, registering only muffled sounds.
Her team had only seconds to gain advantage.
She had entered the room in a rush through the smoke, leaving tail-end Charlie to provide cover outside the door. As soon as her team broke through the threshold of the door, they split apart to avoid becoming easy targets. Each carved out their piece of the pie—their responsibility—breaking down the room into sectors, with trust in the team a necessity of the job.
She heard screams of men through the haze and caught movement in the far corner of the room, a ghostly image in night vision green. But she had her assignment.
“Clear right!” she yelled. Her section of the room was clear of targets, but she moved to her next position, tightening the circle.
Other members of her team weren’t so lucky. A short spurt of bullets erupted, and even through her com set she heard the muffled yet chilling sound of bullets pounding flesh. A body dropped to the floor and the shrill scream of a girl reminded her why they’d come. The hostage shrank into the corner, too afraid to move.
“Clear left,” her man called out instinctively, following protocol.
Their circle tightened toward the center of the room, her team carving a wedge between the freed hostages and their captors. Fast and brutal, they neutralized the room with deadly intent. More gunfire. More men died. Hostages scrambled to get away. Her team sorted through the chaos and took control. In minutes it would be over.
She heard a man pleading for his life in Russian. For a second she hoped it was Petrovin, but she knew better. Stanislav Petrovin would not go down easy. And the man would never beg for his life.
“Clear center.” The last all clear sign came.
It was over.
They’d taken care of the last room, the stronghold where these men had made their final stand with the hostages. The smell of blood played second fiddle to another stench. A man had cleared his bowels as he died. She recognized the odor.
Even through the ringing in her ears, she heard the low moans of the wounded and dying. Walking through the smoke and carnage, her team flexicuffed everyone in the room, even the hostages, the wounded, and the dead got their hands tied until things were sorted out and everyone was questioned.
By the time Garrett found her, she saw the relief in his eyes that she’d made it through the operation. He rushed to her, careful not to reveal too much to his men. But the look in his eyes said it all.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
God, she loved the sound of his voice.
“Yeah. Did we lose anyone?” She ventured a touch of his sleeve.
“No, thank God. A couple of injuries, but they’ll live. It was a good op, Alexa.”
She fought a smile, unsure what part God would have chosen to play, but she gave Garrett the benefit of the doubt that he had a direct line to a higher power. When he looked beyond her, searching through the murky haze of the room, Garrett smiled uncharacteristically, a strange sight in a room colored by bloodshed.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said.
“What?” She turned and shifted her gaze to where he looked. “What’s so funny?”
“I had intel of Petrovin being here, but that’s Anton Bukolov himself. The guy behind Globe Harvest.”
