Someone’s foot dislodged a rock and it rolled and bounced down the slope before disappearing into the gorge. They all crouched low, waiting and listening to see if it had attracted attention. Gunnar cocked his head to one side, listening for it to hit the bottom, but the sound never came, telling him the gorge was too deep and the rock too small.
Mental note to self: do not fall off that shit.
He hoped the dip in the wall was still there. It had been years since he and the men on his team had created it. The last time he’d been in this place, satellite and drone footage suggested it was. But until he saw the crumbling rocks, he wasn’t holding his breath. A couple of minutes later, he saw his hope was rewarded. The rocks they removed all those years ago were still removed. The dip was only a couple of inches at best, but when you teetered on the side of a drop-off so deep you couldn’t hear a rock land at the bottom, thosecouple of inches meant the difference between easy access to the bridge and disappearing if you slipped.
Slowly and carefully, they worked together to get onto the bridge. Gunnar checked in with Remi. “Grizzly to Zipper, we’re past checkpoint French Hens.”
“Roger.”
He knew back in the war-room in Italy, Remi would be crossing the third checkpoint off his whiteboard. Why the heck he had to pick the lyrics for the twelve days of Christmas for this mission made absolutely zero sense to him. But then it was Remi; he barely made sense unless it was computer crap the rest of them didn’t come close to understanding.
They kept as close to the wall as possible, trying to avoid being seen from someone who may be watching from the village above. There was a reason this place had never been taken. With its own water cisterns and terraces to grow food, this place was a damn fortress, with only one way in or out, across the bridge and up these steep steps carved out of the rock face.
Halfway up, he confirmed the next checkpoint. “Zipper, Grizzly. Checkpoint Calling Birds in the bag.”
“Roger.”
Someone somewhere was looking out for them as the moon made a brief appearance which showed him a glint of something in his night vision. Gunnar raised one hand with his fist closed and came to a dead stop.
What is that?
He studied the next step up. This one was almost double the height of the others. Looking up, he couldn’t see the top, but that didn’t mean a sentry wouldn’t be able to see him.
Risk it or no?
Fuck.
He had no choice. He needed to know if that was atripwire which would give a warning or set off an IED or bomb. He palmed his pencil light, used his hand to shield its glow, moved it across the area where he’d caught the glint of something, and followed it, confirming his fears. He flicked off the light. “Tripwire.” He spoke softly, knowing the guys would pick him up on comms. It took a couple of seconds to realize the easiest way over the wire was from the opposite side where it was lower, and they would be exposed to any sentry keeping watch above.
Which is why it’s right here.
Most of his guys were tall; they could make it. “Midas.”
“Yes, Sir?”
At just over five ten, Marco was the shortest of the bunch. “I’m not sure you’ll get up here without tripping the wire. Exchange places with Tyrone and have him boost you up.”
Snickers followed his order, but he knew without looking back to check, his men would follow order.
“I think I’m insulted,” Marco muttered. “Am I insulted, Zorro?”
“Nope, but I am,” Tyrone deadpanned. “I have to lug your ass up the next step.”
He didn’t want the sounds of their bickering to travel or echo, which was always a possibility when you worked in the mountains. “Quiet.” Gunnar inhaled and took a giant step until his boot was planted on the other side of the wire, then swung his other leg, making sure to keep it high enough to miss the wire. Once he was clear, he moved up a couple of steps and turned to watch as Colt cleared it too. For each one of his men who got over safely, they all moved up another step so he could ensure there were no mishaps before they moved on. When Marco with Tyrone’s boost cleared the wire, he breathed out a sigh of relief as Tyrone joined them.
“Zipper, Grizzly, we are clear of that tight spot.”
“Copy that.” Remi’s all business tone was tempered with atinge of relief. “Drone footage shows one sentry.” He confirmed what they’d already suspected. “Swing right at the top, he’s tucked into a nook right there. You can’t miss him.”
Hah, wanna bet?
“Copy.”
Silently, they kept moving upward. Now they knew there was definitely a sentry on watch, they were careful not to scrape any of their battle rattle off the stone cliff. Just before the last step, Gunnar once more raised his closed fist, ordering a full halt.
“Grizzly, his back is to you, and he’s right around that corner,” Remi informed him over comms. “If you move now and step around, you can grab him before he sees you.”
Gunnar didn’t dare answer, but immediately sprang into action, doing as Remi had advised. The sentry never knew what hit him. Gunnar gripped his neck in a carotid hold, lowered him to the ground, and he was bound and gagged before he regained consciousness a couple of moments later. “I’m not going to hurt you,” Gunnar whispered softly to the man who was barely more than a kid. “I just want my woman back. If your people do not interfere, nobody gets hurt. Understand?”
