Range turned away and clenched his eyes so he wasn’t blinded by the blast.
Boom!
The concussion thumped his back, bringing him around, weapon up. Knowing they had the advantage of surprise, he slid through the smoke and dust. Through the door and down into the tunnel that banked to his nine, setting bathed in the green glow of his NVGs.
“Contact rear!” Luther announced amid the crackle of gunfire as he brought up the tail of their insertion.
Aiming toward the rear entrance of the building, Range hurried forward, scanning shadow and every juncture between buildings. They scurried up to the building. Even as he steadied himself, he nodded to Pike and Brick flanking the door. Stepped back, and drove his heel into it. The flimsy barrier flipped backward.
As his boot landed, he spotted a weapon swing around a corner. “Contact, hall.” He squeezed off two rounds. A body slid into his path. “Target down.” He moved in, ready—so ready—to get this woman. He stepped over the body and aimed for the office.
“OTG, you have eight local fighters headed your way,” sniper Crow Rawlins said from his nest on a rooftop.” A resonant crack punctuated his warning, evidence he’d taken a shot. “Make that seven.”Crack. “Six.”
Huffing, heart thumping, Range rounded the corner. He could feel it. So close. A little more and she’d be done.
And yet … something felt … off. He treaded quietly down the hall, snapping his weapon at one room—empty. “Clear.” Moved on. Kitchen, empty.
A vibration started at the back of his skull. Told him to pay attention. He hesitated, glancing back down the direction he’d come. Found himself facing Landry.
The big guy cocked his head. “What?”
He hadn’t gone the wrong way, had he? Frowning, he scanned the passage. Glanced to the ceiling, listening. No creaking. No voices. That was it—nobody was here. It was quiet. Entirely too quiet for a house full of girls. “Something’s wrong.” He keyed his mic. “OTG, sit-rep.”
“One here,” Pike responded. “Negative one HVT.”
“Same for Three,” Brick comm’d. And on down the line.
“Where are they?” Range growled, shoving his way back toward front, keying his comm again to talk to Crow. “Three, do you have eyes on anyone?”
“Negative, One. We have—” He cursed. “OTG, you have a problem. Car pulled up south of your infil point. Six … seven women just came out of the ground and got in a vehicle.”
“Tunnels!” Fury ignited in Range’s gut as he pitched himself back out of the house. “OTG, converge on the south side. Stop them at all costs. Go go go!”
“Three,” Pike comm’d. “Keep the guards busy and pinned down on that side of the compound.”
“Good copy,” Crow reported.
Perfect. While they chased Jazani, at least the guards wouldn’t interfere. Range slid out into the open, sweeping left and alleys as he backtracked to the south door. Pike was already there, doing a quick look-see, then moved into the open.
Range stalked to his side. “Anything?” he asked, probing the area again.
“Nothing,” Pike growled, shaking his head. “Freakin’ noth—”
A shadow moved beneath a small copse of trees. Then another.
“There!” Range snapped his weapon there. “Two o’clock, beneath the trees.” Fast-walking, weapon tucked to his shoulder, he advanced quickly, sights trained on the emerging figures. He signaled Tycho and Landry up from the rear and over to the other side. Hurrying toward the escaping persons, he hoped he hadn’t missed Jazani.
A man turned to help others up out of the ground. A gun in hand.
“Weapon!” Range recognized Jazani’s bodyguard as the gunman. “Osuli, drop it!”
The man jerked, twitched as if to run, then motioned whoever was in the tunnel to go back.
Erasing the last half-dozen paces, Range shouted in Pashto, “Razam Osuli, drop the gun! On your knees.”
The Afghan man let the weapon tumble to the ground.
As Range kicked it out of reach, Landry drove a knee into the man’s back—forcing him to eat grass—and pinned him in place but did not impede oxygen flow.
