I raise the NVGs. “Are you fucking kidding me? Raziq lives in Plan M. We’re going with Plan C.”
“Follow my lead.” Austin climbs the steps to the front door and pulls his weapon. He’ll take the main floor, Griff will head to the second, and I’ll retrieve Lisette and Mateen.
“Unless you have no choice, leave Raziq for me,” I hiss seconds before Austin breaks down the door with one well-placed kick.
We sweep through the house with practiced precision. The dullplunksof silenced rounds are like the popcorn machine at a movie theater. At the top of the stairs, I draw down on a man in a dark blue tunic and pants. He reaches for the gun at his hip, but my shot drops him first.
“Lisette? Mateen?” I bang on the locked door. “It’s Nomar. If you can hear me, get back.” There’s no response, so I holster my weapon and slam my shoulder into the wood. It splinters easily, but inside sitting on the bed are two local kids. One of them has a bruise the size of a fist darkening his jaw.
“Who the fuck are you?”
The older one’s gaze lands on the closet. I yank the door open and find nothing.
Shit.
“Lisette and Mateen!” I whirl around to find the kids hovering in the doorway. “Where are they?”
Before I can take two steps, they’re running. “Something’s fucked here! Stop the kids coming down the stairs!”
I thunder after them, but they have youth and bravado on their side. The younger one—he can’t be more than seven—veers off on the second floor, while the teen vaults over the railing. He lands three feet in front of Griff and keeps going.
We race down the stairs together, and almost run right into Austin as he pokes his head out of the kitchen. The kid turns down a hallway to the rear of the house. “What the fuck?”
“He went down here,” I call. Concrete steps lead down into total darkness. “There’s a basement in this place?”
Zephyr breaks in. “Not on the blueprints I found. Watch your six.”
The light secured to my shoulder bobs and winks in and out. Why didn’t I think to check the goddamn batteries?
Because you haven’t run an op like this in forever.
The stairs open up to a large, empty room. The smell of sand is so cloying, I’m surprised the floor isn’t covered with it. At the far end, the kid waves, then darts through a narrow door. It swings shut with a loudbang.
I slam into it, but the damn thing doesn’t budge. No handle. No hinges. And it’s metal. The sound it makes under my fist? It’s a good two inches thick.
“Get out!” Whirling around, I shove Griff and Austin back the way we came. But a second door slams in Austin’s face, sealing us in the room. “Fuck. Zephyr! Need an assist here!”
“What’s—” Static drowns her out, so loud ithurts. Austin and Griff rip their comms devices from their ears, pained expressions on their faces.
“Fuck! Signal jammer?”
“I’ve got no signal,” Austin says, peering at his phone. “We’re a good ten, fifteen feet underground.”
Griff pounds on the closest wall. “Metal. Like the doors. It’s some kind of safe room.”
My hands shake. “This was a goddamn trap. It all makes sense now. How easy it was. Did any of the fuckers you took down fire a single shot? Throw a punch?”
Austin shakes his head. “Not a one.”
“Raziq, Lisette, Mateen…they’re not here. They never were.” I stagger back until I hit the wall. “He still has them, and now he has us too.”
Tapping the temple of his glasses, Griff stares off into space for a full minute. I’d worry about the guy if he weren’t angry as fuck and getting angrier by the second.
Another couple of taps, and he hands me his phone. “I set the glasses to record video before we breached. What do you see?”
Three men fall before I catch it. “Their clothes don’t fit. They’re dirty. These aren’t Raziq’s men.”
Austin, watching over my shoulder, curses under his breath. “That’s not all.” He backs the video up thirty seconds, then draws his fingers across the screen to zoom in. “Look at that guy’s gun.”
