the same position. They were enveloped in near blackness. The only source of light came through tiny holes on the cabinet veneer facing the living room.
“Nathan, what’s going on?” she whispered.
He closed his eyes and concentrated. He was forgetting something, something critical. What was it?
Holly’s purse. On the kitchen counter above them.
He opened the cabinet door, retrieved the purse, and placed it between his legs.
Low on his left, he turned the knob of a dimmer switch, adjusting it to the lowest setting before pressing the knob to activate a series of night lights plugged into wall outlets.
The tiny points of light in the cabinet face brightened.
“Peepholes,” he whispered.
Chapter 18
He had to keep Holly calm. Yes, she was a special agent in charge of a major FBI field office, but this situation could rattle even the most battle-hardened soldier. If she made a tactical mistake, they were both dead.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” he whispered. “These cabinet walls are armored with ballistic vest material. We need to stay absolutely quiet. Pretend nobody’s home. We’re just part of the furniture. Inhale deeply. Exhale slowly.”
“How can you be so calm?” she whispered back.
“No one’s home. This is an empty house. Inhale deeply, exhale slowly.”
He heard her take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m okay.”
They both heard it, a sudden crash of glass.
“They’re inside. Absolute silence from now on.” He gave her hand a squeeze and pressed his eye to a hole.
Like demons from a nightmare, four dark figures rushed into the living room.
In the ambient light, Nathan watched the laser dots sweep through the room. He hoped they were mercenaries, not federal agents. If they were feds, or U.S. military, they’d have a much harder battle on their hands. One thing was certain, he’d never allow Holly or himself to be taken prisoner. One way or the other, this fight was to the death.
Intruders one, three, and four advanced down the hallway toward the bedrooms, moving with precision and silence. Number two stayed put and crouched down.
Number two looked directly at the cabinet where they were hiding.
He gave Holly’s hand another squeeze. After several seconds, Number two looked in the other direction and froze again. Seeing nothing, Number two moved to the base of the cabinet and ended up inches from Holly’s face.
He watched a red laser beam flash three times on the dining room wall. Number two painted his laser at the same spot and gave three flashes in return, predetermined signals to avoid being blown away by friendly fire. One, three, and four emerged from the dark hallway. Two joined them for a whispered consultation. Good. They weren’t feds. Feds would have used hand signals to implement one of several backup plans.
Trying to take them now, while they were all together, wouldn’t work because of their ballistic vests. If he didn’t score four head shots, it would be over. Be patient. Wait for a better opportunity.
One, three, and four disappeared down the hall again.
Number two advanced toward their position. When he lost sight of the gunman, he aimed his Sig at the cabinet’s door. A rustle of clothing announced two’s pivot around the corner. Nathan imagined the mercenary taking in the empty kitchen.
It didn’t happen.
Through a peephole in the cabinet’s door, Nathan watched the merc crouch beside the base cabinet on the opposite side of the kitchen and begin opening doors.
They had less than twenty seconds.
He studied the man’s movements and watched a pattern emerge. At each cabinet, the gunman pulled the door open while pointing his gun into the space, then closed the door. Pull. Point. Close.
His enemy was halfway through the kitchen now.
Ten seconds.
Pull. Point. Close.
Nathan took slow, deep breaths. All tension gone.
Three seconds.
One cabinet remaining ahead of theirs.
Pull. Point. Close.
The vertical crack of light between their hiding place and the outside world expanded.
Like a slow-motion python, the black silencer of an MP5 eased toward his face.
Nathan shoved the cabinet door, knocking the man onto his haunches.
He centered his laser on two’s throat and pulled the trigger.
The man jerked twice and lay still. The subsonic round wasn’t completely silent and knocking the intruder down also caused noise. It was a good bet this man’s friends heard the disturbance.
He sprang out, pulling Holly with him. “Stay behind me,” he whispered.
The next thirty seconds stretched into a nightmarish melee of violence.
One, three, and four eased down the hall, hugging the wall.
Nathan flashed his own laser three times, hoping to lure them into the open.
It worked.
Three and four entered the living room in a crouch. Visible in the dust and smoke, their lasers swept back and forth in quick motions. Using the bulletproof cabinet for cover, Nathan painted his beam on the bridge of number three’s nose and squeezed off a shot. The man spun and crumpled to the floor.
Two down, two to go.
Thirteen shots remaining.
Surprising Nathan with his speed, number four emptied an entire magazine in the general direction of the shot that killed his partner. He yanked Holly down with half a second to spare.
Even suppressed, the staccato sound of the high-speed discharge ripped the air. Splinters flew. Dishes shattered. Glass flew from shelves. Pot and pans jumped and clanged. The microwave, range, and dishwasher exploded, showering Nathan and Holly with glass fragments. The countertop erupted, sending shards of granite in every direction.
Number four disappeared behind the couch.
Nathan heard him eject the empty magazine and jam another home. He had less than two seconds before a second barrage of bullets slammed into the kitchen.
He straightened up and opened fire, walking his shots along the length of the couch. From behind and above, Holly’s Glock boomed, mirroring his pattern. Her non-suppressed weapon flashed like a strobe light, the reports hammering his eardrums. They were both rewarded with a loud string of Spanish obscenities, followed by another discharge of an MP5. The bullets went high, pulverizing the ceiling.
Nathan yelled, “Holly, cover fire.”
She fired her Glock into the hallway to keep the fourth man from coming out. Staying in a low crouch, Nathan rushed the sofa and dived to its base. He jammed his gun underneath and fired four more shots. At the right edge of the sofa, he peered around the corner.
Number four lay on his back, shuddering, the left side of his face gone.
Three down, one to go.
