painting that the Ghost was after.
Kat clicked a yes to Jeff’s suggestion that Karen enter the living room.
Astutely, Jeff asked, “Should I concentrate more force than I already am on the living room?”
She clicked a relieved affirmative.
Yet another adjustment to the entry scheme was made, and all the Medusas were massed outside the windows.
Then Jeff asked, “Where are you now, Cobra? I don’t want your teammates shooting you.”
She looked down at the foyer. Up here, she’d be clear of any bullets flying into the foyer. She reviewed the house layout quickly in her mind. But if she wanted to join the fight at all, she’d be squarely in her teammates’ fields of fire. She had to move.
She tapped out, “Foyer. Moving to living room.”
Jeff’s response was quick and sharp. “Don’t go in there by yourself! Wait for backup!”
He didn’t understand where she was at the moment, and although his advice was sound, she needed to ignore it. She sent one last message. “Am on ceiling.”
That caused a stir as Jennifer Blackfoot and Aleesha came up simultaneously to ask what the heck she meant by that.
A chuckle was evident in Jeff’s voice as he explained. “Cobra straps claws to her feet and hands and can crawl upside down along a ceiling like an insect. Medusas, keep your field of fire at eye level or below and you won’t hit her. She’ll be overhead when you enter the room.”
Jennifer retorted, “Are you kidding?”
Jeff answered, “Nope. I’ve seen her do it. It’s for real.”
A male voice interrupted. “The Predator is approaching target. Switching on cameras now. Stand by for real- time photo intelligence analysis.”
Kat didn’t know if the analyst would be at H.O.T. Watch Ops or sitting on the nearby helicopter, but she didn’t care either way, as long as the analyst knew his stuff.
A female voice came up. “I have eyes on target. I show one human heat signature…” A long pause. “Near the ceiling of the foyer, moving down the wall toward the living room entrance.”
Jeff murmured, “That is correct. Continue.”
“I paint two human signatures in the dining room, one to the right of the foyer entrance, one under the far window.”
Bingo. As disconcerting as it was to know she was, indeed, in the middle of an ambush, Kat was relieved to know that her instinct had been right and all this fuss wasn’t for naught.
The analyst went on. “I paint four humans in the living room, two on each side of the fireplace on the far wall. I paint one more human in the kitchen-he’s on the move, heading toward the butler’s pantry.”
Kat reviewed the house layout quickly. That guy would be circling through the back side of the house to come into the living room if she had to bet. After all, these guys couldn’t use the foyer any more than she could. Misty was slated to come in from that direction. She could drive that guy toward the living room if need be.
The analyst concluded, “That’s all. Seven tangos and one friendly doing a Spider-Man.”
Jeff came up. “Copy. Medusas, prepare for radio failure. Go on Bravo 51’s call of systems activated.”
All five Medusas acknowledged in turn, with Kat clicking hers.
Then Jeff said, “Bravo 51, light it up.”
“Roger,” came the electronic warfare man’s voice. “Here we go.”
Kat swore she could actually feel the radio waves bombarding her. Static abruptly filled her ears, but she wasn’t in a position to turn down her radio volume at the moment. She started crawling, heading for the dining room. Jeff was going to deal with those two guys, and she didn’t like those odds. As glass crashed from a half- dozen windows at once and shouting broke out around her, Kat planted a piton at light speed, clicked her rope onto it, and let go of the wall. She swung downward, dropping upside down until her head and shoulders cleared the dining-room entrance. More importantly, her pistol cleared the archway. For tonight’s work, she’d chosen a high- caliber handgun with enough stopping power to drop a man. Thankfully, she routinely practiced shooting from odd angles like this, and she took in the scene before her in an instant. Jeff had just crashed through the window and was rolling across the floor while two men in black turned, startled, and were bringing their weapons up to bear on him.
Jeff was situated to nail the guy under the window, so she aimed at the man closest to her, double tapping a pair of shots into the guy before he ever knew she was there. Gunfire erupted from the living room as Jeff efficiently dropped his man. He jumped up and started toward her.
“Stop!” she cried.
He skidded to a halt.
She bit out, “There’s epoxy glue all over the foyer floor. You’ll have to go around.”
He nodded and took off running toward the kitchen. Quickly, she curled into a ball, caught her rope, and righted herself. She took off, crawling crablike around the foyer toward the shoot-out now in progress in the living room. The space was huge-easily fifty feet square, and crammed with furniture, cabinets, tables, and any manner of good cover. At a glance, all the shooters, both friendly and hostile, looked pinned down and at a stalemate. She glanced over at the doorway Jeff would have to come through. He’d be a sitting duck if he tried to get in there.
She had to do something to tip the scales and fast. He’d be here in a few more seconds.
She climbed up to the twelve-foot-high ceiling and commenced crawling stealthily across it. There. Below her. One of the hostiles. She pulled her pistol and shot down at him, burying a round in the top of his skull and a second round in the back of his neck as he fell.
Her shots elicited a round of gunfire, but none of the hostiles spotted her. She held her position, unmoving. She was completely exposed up here. If any of the bad guys looked up, she was dead meat.
Jeff spun into the room, and the hostiles seemed to realize that the stalemate was breaking against them. They commenced running around, shooting wildly. Although they didn’t hit any Medusas, they did effectively foul up everyone’s field of fire. Kat saw Aleesha and Isabella draw knives and move out, easing around the perimeters of the space.
Two of the hostiles drew together in the middle of the room, back-to-back behind a giant armoire in a highly defensible position. They were going to be hell to reach. Anyone who came into their line of sight would be shot.
And then she spotted Jeff moving toward them.
He was going to be a hero, dammit.
Swearing under her breath, she scrambled forward. From her vantage point, she saw Jeff pause around the corner from the hostile pair. He shoved a new clip of bullets home and tensed to move. A quick glance showed her the worst. The tango was sighting down the barrel of an AK-47, right at where Jeff was going to emerge, finger poised on the trigger. The second Jeff came around the end of the wet bar, he was going to be blown away.
Desperate to stop him from diving straight into the commando’s hail of lead, she scrambled the last few feet. And let go of the ceiling.
Chapter 18
Jeff’s heart skipped a beat as Kat’s dark shape hurtled down from the ceiling directly in front of where he was about to shoot.
Dear God. Had she been shot?
Pure, unadulterated panic ripped through him, a sick wash of heat that all but knocked his legs out from under him. Roaring in rage and terror, he charged around the corner, heedless of any danger waiting for him. He’d charge the jaws of hell itself for her.
He made out a writhing mass of arms and legs that he dared not shoot at, so he continued to sprint forward, the panic blurring his vision until he could hardly see.
And then a petite figure rose to the top of the pile.
