Randall slipped on the dead man’s night vision goggles and surveyed the room. Seeing through the spots in his vision, he found Devlin, straight ahead, slowly getting to her feet while holding her ears. He pivoted right.
Both assaulters stumbled in place, one ripping off his NVG’s, the other clutching his head.
Randall bolted for the man nearer to him.
*******
Regaining her sight, Devlin spotted Randall pummeling an attacker. She looked left and located the one who had entered via the window. Gun up, she advanced and delivered several blows to his head and neck area.
Still blinded, the man sent out a wild roundhouse right.
She ducked under the strike, came up, and drove an elbow into his throat.
Holding his neck with both hands, coughing and choking, he fell to one knee.
Holstering her Colt while grabbing his slung rifle, Devlin slipped behind him, twisted the sling twice, and shoved him to the floor. Pressing her knee between his shoulder blades, she yanked on the nylon sling, as if she were a stagecoach driver stopping a team of horses.
The man’s coughing turned to gurgles while he tried to wriggle free of his captor.
Devlin pulled harder, the sling’s coarse webbing cutting into her fingers.
He gasped. His squirming became feeble swipes across the hardwood flooring. A second later, he stopped moving.
Letting go of the sling, she checked for a pulse on the man, stood, and eyed Randall.
He looked up, glanced at the man at her feet, and came back to her. “Is he dead?” His voice was a few decibels shy of shouting. “Did you kill him?”
Devlin shot a look at her sprawled out assailant before facing her male counterpart who was sitting on his own downed opponent. “No. He’s still alive.”
“What?” Randall rolled a finger near his left ear. “I can’t hear a dang thing.”
“I said,” Devlin increased her volume, “he’ll live.” She stepped over the man she had choked out and extended a hand.
Randall swung his arm around, slapped her forearm, and squeezed.
She clenched his forearm and pulled him to his feet. “Thanks for the heads-up on the flashbang...gave me time to—”
“What?” He turned his right ear toward her.
Chuckling to herself, she leaned closer to him. “The flashbang...thanks for the warning.”
Nodding, he gave her the thumbs-up sign. “My pleasure...partner.”
She smiled.
“And thank you for,” he gestured toward the body half hanging into the house, “you know,” before hitting the side of his head with a palm, hoping the act would speed up the return of his hearing, “saving my life.”
Devlin retrieved her borrowed cell phone, punched numbers, and slid the device between her hair and her cheek. She nodded at Randall, “No problem,” before turning away. “Marshal Thorn. It’s Devlin. We just beat back an attack on the safe house. The deputy director must be the mole. He’s the only one who knew where we were. Send in the S.O.G. team.”
∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞
.
Chapter 28
Tiny Red Dots
2:06 a.m.
potomac, maryland
Standing in the upstairs hallway outside her bedroom, her back to the wall, the Mossberg 500 shouldered and pointed at the floor, Cruz peeked around the corner and toward the main level.
In the darkness, tiny red dots bounced off objects in the living room.
Her eyes tried to follow the dancing specks. Three of them...maybe four.
As an FBI agent, Cruz had been involved in numerous raids. More recently, as a member of a covert counter-terror team, she had been a part of clandestine breaches in foreign countries. Whether at home or abroad, the technique was usually the same; gain access to the structure, fan out, and overwhelm the occupants. Surprise and speed were paramount.
The red pinpoints ceased moving for a second before they separated. One of the spots rose above the others.
Squeezing the Mossberg’s pistol grip, Cruz pulled the butt of the weapon into her shoulder, turned toward the stairs, and raised the 500’s muzzle. Since the intruders moved with precision inside the blackened house, she knew they were using night vision goggles. They would see her before she could see them. Aiming for the top of the staircase, she slid her index finger into the trigger guard, leaned forward, and released half of the air in her lungs. As she prepped her body for the weapon’s recoil, she narrowed her eyes. Dear Lord, make me more accurate and faster than him. Innocent lives depend—
The small ruby circle moved across the upstairs wall to her left and raced toward her position.
*******
Having stood at the bottom of the basement stairs with his Glock 22 pointed at the kitchen door, waiting for an assault that never came, Ashford crept up the stairs and into the kitchen. Skittering to the archway that divided the kitchen and the living room, he noticed red lights reflecting off a wall mirror in the latter part of the house. His mind showed him Hardy and Cruz’s positions. We have these guys in the crossfire.
The makeshift plan called for each person to wait as long as possible before engaging, giving everyone a chance to get off a clean shot; thus, dropping all invaders at once and eliminating return fire.
Ashford leaned right and lifted the Glock. Coming to the forty-five-degree mark, he inhaled and closed his left eye.
A loud blast bounced off hard surfaces and filled the home.
He threw out the pistol, acquired a flash sight picture on the nearest darkened form, and pressed the trigger.
*******
Hearing Cruz’s shotgun go off, Hardy opened the main-floor bathroom door, his Walther PPQM2 in one hand. The ambient light from the window behind him illuminated a man wearing black tactical gear, the same equipment he had used on many secret missions, including the MP5 aimed at Hardy’s chest.
Having also heard the twelve-gauge boom, the man-in-black had his head turned toward the noise. His peripheral vision obscured by night-vision goggles, he never saw his fate coming.
Leaping forward and pushing the rifle’s forend to the right with his left hand, Nine-ball in the, Hardy brought
