Sin cracked a slight grin. “Yes, it would.”
Sin heard static in her ear piece, letting her know her spotter was about to break in. “One of Westcott’s bitches is reaching for his belt,” she heard.
Her fingers started to tingle at the words. The adrenaline rush was beginning.
“He pulled his phone from his pocket and he is talking.”
Westcott, Sin thought.
“From his exaggerated mouth and hand movements, I’d say he is pissed,” the spotter said. “He just slammed the phone down and is barking orders to his men.”
Westcott’s mad we’re still alive, Sin thought.
Sin forced herself to remain calm and stay in the game. “Alpha, we approach from the north. Fletcher, you lead bravo’s approach from the south. Let’s move out.”
“The assassins are checking their weapons and are splitting up,” her radio chirped. “Two are following your footsteps, two are following bravo.”
She and her unit entered the front door of the building and ran for the mechanical room.
“Their leader has sent two of them around the side toward the back of the building, the other two pulled their weapons and are storming the front entrance,” Hobson radioed.
She cocked the trigger of her gun. The action caused all of her unit to draw their weapons.
“Alpha sniper, do you copy?”
“I’m here, boss lady,” Garcia responded.
“Take out the two heading for the back. We don’t have time to corral the strays.”
“My pleasure.”
As Sin and her men plowed through the door to the mechanical room, gunshots splintered the door frame.
“Fuck, I’m hit!” Fletcher yelled, stumbling behind a cement support post.
Sin spun one hundred and eighty degrees, hit the ground flat and fired with both barrels toward the door. It seemed like slow motion as she watched the face of the first assassin burst into a collage of blood and guts. The second took cover behind the door.
Sin glanced at Fletcher. He was hit in the lower leg. It wasn’t life threatening, but he would need help getting out. “Two of you help Fletch, and everyone head for the back door. I’ll cover you. Garcia, what’s your status?”
“One bitch is down and I have the others penned in. Your exit is clear, repeat, your exit is clear.”
“I’m not leaving you here alone,” Fletcher groaned.
“Move, that’s an order!”
As her unit made a run for the rear door, the assassin rolled across the entrance, firing as he moved. Sin countered and kept his aim off target. She quickly holstered her empty .45s and pulled her semiautomatic from her waist. She jumped to her feet, emptying her magazine as she headed toward the exit. Nearing the emergency exit, Sin gave the final orders. “Garcia, bug out. Wilson, blow this fucker!”
“But, you’re not—”
“Blow it!” she yelled.
Sin turned and ran blindly as the compression of the explosion knocked her off her feet. She stumbled―crawled―her way to the water and dove in with every bit of strength she had.
Her unit swam as hard as they could. With each explosion, more debris rained down, forcing them to dive deeper in the water. Fifty yards out from the shore, they pulled up and surfaced. Looking back, all that could be seen was fire and a building crumbling in upon itself.
“Nice job, Evans,” Sin spitting water between words. “The building imploded.”
“Thank Charlie,” Evans panted. “I just followed his design.”
“Bravo, did you see anyone get out?” Sin asked.
“Not alive, Alpha leader. Their fearless leader tried to scramble as soon as the first detonation blew, but I put a .50 caliber bullet in his chest as soon as he tried to bug out.”
“Good work,” Sin gasped, tired from treading water. “We’ll see everyone back at home base.”
“Can we congratulate each other later,” Fletcher breathed, “I think I’m about to pass out.”
57
“It’s good to hear your voice,” Charlie said.
Sin sat on the front stoop of Manuel’s home. “What have you heard from Washington?”
“Westcott is going freaking nuts,” Charlie said. “Troy has had a hard time keeping up with him. He’s been going from coffee shop to bar to his office to just wandering around. Constantly checking his phone and getting angrier with every glance.”
“He’s probably trying to reach his men,” Sin said. “It’s nice to know the bastard is squirming.”
“Let’s end the squirming and get you home.”
“Patch us through when you’re ready.”
“Are you sure Manuel can handle this?”
Sin looked back at Manuel who was sitting at the table staring at the pile of money—his money. “Yeah, he can handle it.”
A few minutes later, Charlie patched Sin’s phone through to Westcott’s. He bounced the signal off of so many satellites, that it would be impossible to trace.
Westcott was pacing the parking lot on the east side of the Pentagon when his phone rang. “Who the hell is this?” he growled through gritted teeth.
Manuel started to rattle on in Spanish, talking as fast as he could.
“Who the fuck is this?” Westcott yelled.
“My name is Manuel,” Manuel said in broken English. “Phone given to me by large man with dark beard.” He described the leader of the mercenary squad.
“Where is Kennedy?” Westcott was practically pulling his hair out as he stomped the pavement.
“I served them at the cantina and saw them go into the abandoned building, but the building is no more.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Westcott’s voice kept getting higher and louder. “What building and where are the men you saw?”
“The Condominio Elegante, Signor. As soon as the men enter, the entire building exploded.”
“Did you see anyone else enter the building?”
“Si signor, but they are dead, too. Everyone is dead.”
Westcott slumped over the hood of a parked car. “When you say everyone, what do you mean?”
“I mean everyone. The men I saw and the people they were following—everyone.”
Westcott’s voice perked up at the news. “Are you sure?”
“Si.”
Westcott laughed loud enough that he could be heard through the receiver in Manuel’s home.
“One more thing, Senor,” Manuel said, “the man with the beard owed me money and—”
“Fuck you,” Westcott said.
The line went dead.
Manuel gave the phone back to Sin and looked back
