spot was on a hill, which allowed them to see the front quarter of the house, as well as the large building nearby where the Wolves had run their training session. Standing on the roof of Lacu’s car, they could make out some of the grounds on the side. The Whiplash strike team was out of sight.
“Who are the owners of this house?” the deputy minister asked as he and Nuri passed a set of infrared night vision glasses back and forth.
“I can’t remember off the top of my head,” said Nuri. It was an honest answer, though it wouldn’t have been very hard for him to look it up. “I thought maybe you would know the property.”
“No,” said Lacu. He sounded relieved.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s owned by Russians,” suggested Nuri.
“I think that’s a very good possibility,” said Lacu.
So there was the story they would use. Nuri would just let the deputy minister fill in the blanks.
“When shall we bring in the armored car?” asked Lacu.
“Hold it in reserve,” Nuri told him. The car, which drove fairly slowly, was still about a few kilometers away. “Our team will try and get the men to surrender without gunfire.”
“Without gunfire? None at all?”
“That would be the hope.”
Lacu seemed impressed. He took the glasses and turned them toward the house, studying it and the surrounding property.
“I don’t see any of your men,” said Lacu.
“You will soon enough.”
46
Danny looked at his watch. It was now past five o’clock. It would be light soon. And the Russians from town whom Nuri had bugged would be coming out at seven, if they held to their plan. They had to move ahead.
The two men were still in the upstairs room, watching TV.
“Tiny, can you talk?” Danny asked.
“Yes,” answered the trooper. He’d moved back to the side of the room, far from where the men were.
“What’s your status?”
“I loosened the coupling on the duct and I think I can slip the gas nozzle inside,” he said. “I can tape around it and make it airtight. It’ll make a little noise, though.”
“Get ready to do it. But wait for my signal.”
Danny had the team outside take their positions for an immediate attack.
Plan A was to use the gas, knock everyone out, then systematically hog-tie them and cart them off.
Plan B was to go in hard, with or without the gas. Charges had been set against the wall at the guardroom, and two Whiplashers were ready to blow them and overwhelm the guards if they survived the explosion. Grenade launchers were aimed at the windows of the occupied dorm rooms; tear gas would be shot inside as the team rushed the building from below. With access to the armory cut off, they would invite the others to surrender, and proceed accordingly if they didn’t.
That was the backup plan. Things would be easier if the gas worked.
“We’re ready,” said Boston.
“Set up and start pumping,” Danny told Tiny. He turned to Flash. “You think we can increase the amount of electricity going into the building without blowing the circuit?”
“Piece of cake,” said Flash.
He opened the panel on the laptop controlling the electrical regulator and edged it up slightly. It had an immediate effect — the volume on the television increased loud enough for Danny to hear it over Tiny’s mike.
By the time the two men had turned it down, Tiny had the gas canisters in place next to the air duct. He began taping the nozzle into the hole.
With the tanks hooked up, Tiny crawled over to the air handler and undid the panel protecting the wiring. He short-circuited the thermostat control with a pair of alligator clips, kicking on the fan.
It took five minutes for the gas to empty from the canisters. By then Danny was feeling the fatigue of the long day. He leaned over Flash’s shoulder and looked at the screen.
“Show me floor one,” he said. “The control room.”
“They’re still at their stations.”
“Awake?”
“Looks like it.”
“What about upstairs?”
Everyone there seemed to be sleeping, but then they had been before the gas. On the third floor, the two men in the TV room were on the couch, still fidgeting, still awake.
Another ten excruciating minutes passed as Danny gave the gas time to work. Nothing seemed to change.
“It should be at maximum effect by now,” said Flash.
The specialist who’d prepared the gas had calculated it would work almost immediately, since there were air ducts in each room. Within five minutes the concentrations throughout the house, with the exception of the basement and the attic, should be more than high enough to put a person out.
It had worked as well as it was going to.
“We go in hard on my mark,” said Danny. “Ready?”
Each team reported back.
“All right,” he said, gripping his SCAR-H/MK–17 rifle. “Three, two, one—”
The charges blew out a large hunk of the wall. A frag grenade followed, eliminating any possibility that the two guards would be able to sound an alarm or fight back. Danny wasn’t about to hang this operation on flash- bangs.
“Go! Go! Go!” he yelled as he saw the smoke from the blasts.
The team swarmed into the building. Danny told MY-PID to bring the Rattlesnakes up. Guided by the computer, the unmanned helicopters took off from the staging area two kilometers away and rushed toward the site, spreading out as they went so they could encircle the property.
Tiny went to the attic opening, a panel in the ceiling of the room next to the one with the television. He pulled it open and jumped down, pausing to adjust his night goggles, which had slipped on his face. As he did, he was blinded by a flash of light. Instinctively, he reached for his weapon.
Gunfire erupted through the building.
“People moving out of the bedrooms!” warned Flash.
“Secure the stairways!” yelled Danny.
In the next second there was a loud explosion on the second story. Something flew out of the wall — two of the Wolves, jumping from the house.
The deputy minister turned to Nuri as the gunfire erupted.
“I thought you said it would be done without gunfire,” said Nuri.
“They’re trying.”
One of the Rattlesnakes buzzed overhead.
“What was that?” asked Lacu.
“A helicopter.”
“There are three of them.”
“Yes.”
“They look — very small.”
“They are. They’re flown by remote control.”
