“Children?” Oliver said, and Aberlour could feel his eyes on him. Aberlour moved his scope slightly towards Marcus’ position, and sure enough, there they were. Two kids—barely more than flesh and bones, clothes ragged and dirty.
“Orphans,” Aberlour guessed. They weren’t as common in smaller villages, but they were a recurring problem in the larger cities. With no safe place of their own, they tended to dwell in abandoned buildings. The same ones the military loved to occupy.
“What’s our move?” Oliver asked, sounding a little more stoic than usual. Aberlour kept his scope trained on the rat’s nest on the off chance that these kids might be intended as a distraction. It was still quiet and devoid of movement.
“We’ll have to stash ‘em here until we leave,” Aberlour sighed, hating the idea, but unsure what else to do. “Take Carlos and go downstairs to wait for them. Handle them as you need to—tie them up and gag them if necessary. We can’t afford to have them screaming and giving away our position.”
“We’re tying kids up?” Oliver asked, not quite disagreeing with Aberlour’s orders, but definitely showing some resistance.
“You got a better idea?” Aberlour asked, genuinely curious. He was keeping his gaze sharp. They really couldn’t afford to be distracted.
Oliver mustn’t have been able to come up with a better plan because he sighed and clambered to his feet.
Aberlour was itching to go join them—he wanted to see how it would play out. Hopefully, Oliver would be skilled enough to get the kids to cooperate without actually tying them up, but the language barrier would be an issue. Team Specter spoke basic words and phrases of several local dialects, but the basics might not be enough to gain immediate cooperation.
“I’ve got movement. Two men.” Ghost said, voice low. “Heading towards you, Dumber,” he warned.
Could it be that the rodents were finally coming out to play?
“Copy,” he acknowledged quietly, alert to sounds coming from downstairs while he kept his gaze sharp and his scope hot. He was aiming at the door of the rat’s nest now, waiting for the two men Ghost had seen.
A few seconds later, both appeared in his scope. One was around six feet tall, the other shorter, and both were wearing dark shirts and pants, conversing casually with one another. The shorter one pulled the door open, peering around, checking his surroundings, as he let the other one through. They were gone a second later.
“Two rats doesn’t make a nest,” Marcus bit out, clearly annoyed.
Aberlour was in complete agreement.
“Quiet,” Aberlour heard Oliver hiss from downstairs. Then there was the sound of footfalls on the stairs. Four sets, not two.
Aberlour couldn’t afford to turn around. He fought off the urge and took a deep breath, keeping his eyes peeled for further activities across the street.
“We promised them food. They looked starved. They aren’t fighting back,” Oliver said, voice lowered, as he crouched down next to Aberlour. He was still looking towards the children. Carlos had most likely secured them against the back wall of the 2nd floor, in plain view.
“I packed extra MREs in case—heat ‘em up for them.” Aberlour quickly came up with a plan. “We’ll need someone to guard them. Make a shift list.”
“Beat you to it. You’re slow, Dumber,” Oliver chuckled even as he straightened up and began to head back towards the children.
“And you’re just as fucking cocky as ever, Darling,” Aberlour replied, amused.
“Movement again. Three individuals. Heading your way again, Abe,” Marcus said.
There was a niggle of worry right at the back of Abe’s neck. What were the fucking odds? They’d been sitting here for two days and nothing. Suddenly, two kids show up and the nest begins to crawl with activity. How likely was that to happen?
“Darling,” Abe barked, tone low but hard enough to be heard.
Oliver silently crossed the floor. He crouched low next to Abe. Close enough to feel the warmth radiating off him.
“Tell me you searched them.” It was standard procedure, and Aberlour had no doubt Oliver had followed it to the letter, but he hated the hint of doubt creeping up on him.
“We did,” Oliver said. “Nothing but skin and bones. Their clothing are more rags than anything—not sure how they’re getting through cold nights in those.” It was definitely hard to miss the empathy seeping through the words as he toldAberlour. He understood. Really. They just—well, they couldn’t fucking afford it.
“I need your head in the game. They’re not kids—they’re personal landmines, you get it? Feed them, clothe them if you need to, but that’s it.”
And if he had offended Oli with his tone, Oli didn’t let it show. Instead, he seemed to read Aberlour’s mind.
“You think it’s a trap?” Oliver asked, just as the three men who Marcus had seen appeared in Abe’s scope. Just like the others, they entered one after the other, the last casting a thorough look around as if making sure he wasn’t being followed, before disappearing through the door.
“I think it’s a hell of a fucking coincidence,” he confessed with a frown.
