The three attackers stood in unison and drew their weapons.
All hell was about to break loose.
Patrick swept his left hand downward, cutting off the lights and plunging the restaurant into darkness. He crouched and fired once at the man sitting alone. Without waiting, he swung his weapon to the left and squeezed off two more shots at the booth where the other two were sitting.
As expected, sheer pandemonium broke out. Screaming at the top of their lungs, people stormed toward the front, pushing one another out of the way.
Muzzles flashed from the booth, followed by the pop of high-caliber rounds. The return fire indicated at least one of the targets was still alive. Ducking down, Patrick crab-walked back to the booth where Danielle was waiting. He found her crouched under the table, just as he’d instructed.
He reached underneath and grasped her wrist. “Let’s go.”
As she came out, Patrick caught movement in his peripheral vision. A dark male figure was moving toward them. Patrick aimed at his chest and fired twice. The man was blown backward, dead before he hit the ground.
“Go!” he shouted at Danielle as they rushed toward the exit.
Two more shots rang out, blowing holes in the glass at the front of the restaurant. Patrick pushed into the mob at the door, shoving people out of the way as he went. He doubted the assailants would fire into the crowd and risk hitting Danielle.
When they finally exited the brasserie, Patrick heard sirens wailing two blocks away. Apparently, the police had heard the shots and were already responding. From the sound, he guessed they would arrive in less than a minute.
With no time to spare, he stepped into the street and aimed his pistol at an oncoming Renault. The driver slammed on the brakes. Parisians weren’t used to seeing a man brandishing a gun anywhere and certainly not in the middle of the street.
Keeping the pistol aimed at the driver’s head, Patrick came around to the driver’s side and shouted through the window in French. “Police. I need your car. Get out.”
The man probably doubted the story but was in no position to argue. He unlocked the door and slid out, only not fast enough. Patrick grabbed his arm and flung him to the pavement.
Danielle was already getting in on the other side.
Before entering the vehicle, Patrick looked toward the front of the brasserie. Two of the attackers had emerged on the sidewalk. But Patrick’s eyes were drawn to someone else, an Asian woman standing off to one side. Despite the chaos erupting around her, she remained perfectly still.
A moment later, their eyes met, and Patrick realized who she was. He’d seen her four times since arriving in Paris: on the stairs at the Métro, at the cyber café, along La Rue Mazarine, and now here. She’d been following them the entire time.
Strangely, she didn’t seem to be connected to the other attackers. She was operating alone, perhaps with a different agenda. The plot thickened.
Patrick stood in place, transfixed by her stare.
“Let’s go!” Danielle shouted from inside the vehicle.
The wailing sirens were only a block away now. Patrick could see their lights reflecting on the windows of a nearby shop.
He ducked into the car, slammed the door shut, then mashed the pedal to the floor.
As the vehicle took off, he looked toward the entrance. Not surprisingly, the woman was gone.
Chapter Eleven
The black figures moved silently under the cathedral of trees, their rifles panning back and forth in the darkness. They didn’t expect to meet any resistance but weren’t taking any chances. Failure wasn’t an option this time. That had already been made abundantly clear.
When they reached the crown of the hill, Hugo gave a hand signal, and all four men dropped to their stomachs. From there, they slithered along the ground like ebony serpents, stopping only after reaching the rock ledge overlooking the valley. Hugo worked his way to the edge of the massive stone then lowered his night-vision goggles into place. The world instantly transitioned into a milky monochrome of green and black. He looked down toward the valley floor. A long gravel drive snaked down its center, ending at a house nestled in a grove of pines and oaks. No lights were on, but he knew the two targets were holed up inside.
They had picked up the chip’s signal briefly that afternoon. It was a pleasant surprise they hadn’t expected. For a brief moment, he considered that it might have been done on purpose, but he quickly dismissed the thought. These people were trying to disappear. But it wasn’t just his gut that told him the two were there. After pinpointing the location, they had dispatched the miniature drone, which confirmed the two targets had indeed taken shelter in the home.
Hugo clenched his jaw in eager anticipation. He couldn’t wait to take revenge on the man who’d ambushed him the night before. The man had tricked him, and now it was time to turn the tables. The bastard would be dead in less than fifteen minutes. A dozen heavily armed men were set up at various points around the valley. Two had entered from the east and were hidden along the gravel drive, preventing escape in that direction. Hugo and his four-man team would come in from the west and attack the rear of the house. The two remaining teams, each with three men, would attack from the north and south. It was an iron vise from which there would be no escape.
But it wasn’t only the numbers that gave them an advantage. The entire team was outfitted in full Kevlar body armor, making them impervious to high-caliber rounds. Their weaponry was also superior to anything they’d face. Each man was equipped with an AR-15 rifle, a Sig Sauer pistol, and a tactical knife that could be used in the case of hand-to-hand combat. And if that weren’t enough, all were equipped with night-vision gear.
Hugo lifted a monocular to his right eye. The house was completely dark and still, but that was deceiving. The man waiting inside was former military, which meant he’d be watching the valley throughout the night. Unfortunately for him, he wouldn’t see his attackers until it was too late.
Hugo spoke into the mic that curved from his ear. “Red One, this is Red Three. SITREP.” Red One was the team positioned along the gravel drive.
After a short pause, a voice crackled through his earpiece. “This is Red One, sir. Our position is approximately one hundred meters from the house.”
“Any signs of life?”
“Negative. The blinds are drawn, and I see no light coming through from inside.”
Hugo felt a pinch of concern. Things were almost too quiet. “Copy that. Red Two and Four, are you in position?”
Both replied in the affirmative.
“All teams, move out,” Hugo barked.
“Roger that” was the crackled reply from the other teams.
After slipping off the rock ledge, Hugo led his men down the slope. Now in the hot zone, they moved cautiously, slipping from trunk to trunk to mask their approach. Several minutes later, the ground leveled off. Hugo raised his hand and dropped to one knee. The team followed suit. He lifted the monocular again. About a hundred yards ahead was the dim outline of the house. It was still dark.
He felt his chest tighten a bit but shrugged it off.
After getting confirmation the other teams were in place, Hugo gave the men their final instructions. His team and the team from the south would rendezvous at a hedgerow behind the house. The other two teams would rendezvous at a shed on the north side of the house, twenty yards from the front porch. Then, at his signal, they would storm inside, kill the man, and take the girl alive. Even if both were armed — and Hugo assumed they were — the fight wouldn’t last more than a minute or two. He and his men wore full Kevlar suits, which meant only a well-placed neck or head shot would be lethal. Not even a professional marksman could make such a hit in the dark.