The intruders wrapped a large length of double-braided rope around the pole, leaving loops on both sides so two men on opposite sides of the pole could carry the behemoth between them. There were five handles on each side of the pole, leaving two men free to pull security. John laid a staying hand on Jared’s thigh, making sure Jared didn’t move or do anything to make a sound. Twelve on two were pretty bad odds, in John’s opinion.
John’s mind immediately recognized what the men’s intentions were and raced to formulate a plan to prevent them from using their battering ram to gain access to Dwight’s house. John watched as the men struggled to heave the substantial pole over the gate, which they were finally able to do after much cursing and grunting. The twelve men followed their battering ram over, picked it up, and began their slow march up the driveway towards the house. John saw the two security men break away from the group, each heading in opposite directions. One went to the right while the second man split off to the left.
John leaned into Jared’s ear. “They’re going to use that thing to knock down the front door,” he whispered. “The two other guys will probably try to keep our boys from using the rifle ports. Probably shoot from the bushes—they both have scoped rifles, so that’s my guess.”
Jared nodded his head even though all this hadn’t caused him to formulate a well-thought-out plan of action like he was sure John had. “What do you want to do?”
“We can move up there where we can get good shots on the guys at the front door. I’m thinking we wait till the party gets started so the racket they make masks our movement. I’m going to take out the two guys who split off.” John drew a wicked-looking knife from a scabbard on his belt and smiled, holding it so Jared could see its black blade and gleaming edge. “Nice and quiet so the ten dudes on the ram don’t get involved until it’s too late.”
Jared felt his heart race and his stomach flutter with nerves at the thought of stabbing another human. Maybe he should hold off on his opinion of John. Maybe the guy was a lunatic after all. “Holy shit, you’re gonna stab them?” he asked in astonishment.
John grimaced and shook his head. “No, I’m gonna slit their fucking throats.”
John’s grimace turned to an evil grin as he watched Jared’s white teeth appear as his jaw fell slack. John had killed people during combat in a number of ways and remembered the more unorthodox the manner in which an operator killed an enemy combatant, the higher up the pecking order an operator would be viewed within the Special Missions Unit. In squadrons full of alpha males, there wasn’t much room to shine, so when one of John’s mates killed a man with a hatchet, that person immediately ascended to godly status.
John had killed exactly two men by way of the blade during his time in the unit. The last one was a couple of years ago, but that wasn’t what he was thinking about now. What occupied John’s mind now was if all went well—for him, not the two other guys—he’d double his knife kill number in a single fight. No one he knew or heard of had four kills with a knife. He would have been a living legend back at Fort Bragg with four knife kills to his name. He guessed all that didn’t really matter any longer, and sadly he would be killing Americans tonight. He pushed the thought from his mind before its disturbing tentacles wrapped his brain in their icy clutches and clouded his judgment.
Once the men passed and the sound of their exertions grew faint, John tapped Jared, letting him know it was time to move. John and Jared slowly got to their feet and crept toward the fading sounds made by the laboring men ahead. They stayed off the driveway, moving through the yard with the intention of positioning themselves as directly in line with Dwight’s front doors as possible. John and Jared stopped approximately eighty yards from the front doors and dropped to prone positions as they watched the ten intruders struggle up the three steps that led to the house’s front doors under the great weight of the utility pole.
Once the ten intruders were in position, there was the crack of a rifle from Jared’s left, which caused him to flinch. The immediate clang of the bullet colliding with the shutters told Jared he was not the target, but it also signified that Operation Marauders was officially underway.
Again, John leaned into Jared’s ear. “I’m going now,” he hissed, his eyes wide and focused. “Don’t shoot anyone till I get back—unless it looks like they’re getting through those doors, then lay into ’em.”
In a flash, John was up and gone, leaving Jared feeling alone and vulnerable as the first several thuds resounded from the intruders, who’d begun their attempt at breaching Dwight’s front door. John moved silently through the dead or dying landscaping of Dwight’s formerly over-the-top yard, trying to catch a glimpse of the shooter’s muzzle flash. He heard the rifle bark twice more before he spotted the man lying alongside a hedge. This is perfect, John thought; he would approach the shooter using the hedge to conceal his advance.
The intruders at the front door were on their seventh blow when John stepped over the prone figure, grabbing the stunned man by the underside of his jaw and
