“Go,” he barked to his men.
They rushed forward, keeping themselves positioned behind trees as much as possible. Clouds temporarily moved in front of the moon, intensifying the darkness. Hugo smiled. Even if the man was watching, he wouldn’t see them coming. They would appear like wraiths, swarming him and the girl before they had a chance to respond.
About fifty yards from the house, Hugo felt something give under his feet. The ground bowed slightly. As his men continued on, he looked back. A board was lying on the ground a few feet away. It was out of place in the middle of the lawn, but he didn’t have time to figure out what it was. He’d already lost a few precious seconds.
Turning, he sprinted forward and caught up with the others, who were already hunkered down behind the bushes at the rear of the house. A few seconds later, the team from the north joined them. They were nine strong.
Hugo parted the vegetation with a hand. The screened-in porch was directly ahead. He assumed the back door would be locked, which meant they’d have to kick it in.
After getting final confirmation the teams were in place, Hugo gave the signal to proceed. They skirted the bushes and sprinted the remaining distance. Hugo opened the screen door and rushed across the porch. He was more than a little surprised there wasn’t any defensive fire coming at them through a cracked window. Surely the man heard them now.
He tried the back doorknob. As expected, it was locked. He looked to the man at his side and counted with his fingers. On three, they kicked the door, and the cheaply constructed wood surrendered immediately.
Hugo charged inside and cleared in both directions. As they continued into the house, he frowned. There was still no resistance. In fact, there was no sign of life.
“Front room is all clear,” a voice said through his earpiece.
A moment later, another voice said, “The kitchen is all clear.”
Hugo entered a corridor that ran to the front of the house and turned right about midway down. One of his men stood just ahead. He waved at Hugo then pointed at a closed door. Interestingly, it was the only closed door they’d encountered so far.
That’s where they’re hiding.
Hugo and several others gathered in the hallway outside the door. Hugo turned on his gun-mounted light and flipped up his night-vision goggles then instructed the others to do the same. The view through the goggles was murky, and the last thing they needed to do was charge in and kill the girl by accident.
At Hugo’s signal, one of the men opened the door. They rushed inside, their lights splashing across the room. Dresser. Nightstand. Bed. Hugo’s eyes stopped at the sight of two long lumps under the covers. It was a poorly executed ruse. No one could sleep through all the commotion. He stepped closer and pressed the muzzle of his gun against one of the lumps. It was soft and supple. Pillows.
“Sir,” one of his men said from the far side of the bed. He gestured at something on the floor.
Hugo walked over to where the man was standing and directed his light downward. There, between the bed and the wall, was an odd-looking tangle of canisters, wires, and tape. He panned his light up slightly, illuminating a cell phone taped to the top of the contraption.
A chill ran down his spine when he realized what he was looking at. Before he could issue a warning, the phone’s screen lit brightly, and a ringtone sounded, blaring “Carry on Wayward Son.”
“Get out!” Hugo yelled.
The ringtone continued as the men fled toward the door, all of them painfully aware of what was about to happen.
Hugo was the first one to exit the room and had taken only two steps down the hallway when a brilliant light flashed behind him. A second later, a powerful blast wave slammed into his back, launching him through a cyclone of flying boards, wood, and pipe.
Something in his body snapped, then his world melted to darkness.
Chapter Twelve
Patrick crouched on the cellar stairs and listened intently. Just moments before, he’d felt a slight tremor, which told him one or more people were approaching on foot. It was difficult to tell how many there were, but he guessed at least a half dozen.
Seconds later, he heard the distinct thumping of feet. They were coming with speed. The attack was under way.
Boots banged across the cellar door then stopped. Patrick lifted his pistol, ready to fire it if the door swung open.
Danielle spoke in the darkness. “Do you think—”
Patrick grabbed her arm, cutting her off. As best he could tell, the person was still standing close by. If they were discovered, all would be lost.
Soon the thump of boots resumed and eventually faded away.
“Sorry,” Danielle whispered after Patrick released her arm.
“I think—”
A loud crash cut him off. The attackers had breached the house. Patrick unlocked his phone’s screen and monitored the time. He would wait two minutes before detonating the device, giving the men enough time to penetrate deep into the home.
“Are you sure we’re doing the right thing?” Danielle asked.
She’s asking that now?
“I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not get caught or killed.”
“What if this is our own government?”
“If it is, then they’re operating outside of the law. We were both being held against our will. Not only that, but at this point it’s pretty clear they’ll kill me if they get the chance. They might even kill you if they can’t take you alive.”
“What about the man you talked to on the phone?”
“He told us they’d be here at midnight.” He pointed toward the surface. “Instead, they’re here now, and it sounds like they just smashed through the door. Does that sound like an extraction team? We were betrayed, Danielle.”
And yet he had to admit he still had questions. Maybe the man was on their side. After all, he had told them to take the battery out of the phone and disappear. Why do that if he was trying to hunt them down? Now that Patrick thought about it, maybe there were two different groups. After all, they had purposefully exposed the microchip that afternoon in case there were two different groups. Maybe this group wasn’t connected with the other. Maybe an extraction team would come at midnight.
Despite the lingering questions, he still didn’t trust the man. After all, he’d clearly kept the conversation going long enough for the hit team to arrive at the restaurant. How else would they have even known where to find them? It was a trap, a betrayal, and now they were going to turn the tables.
He looked at the time on the screen. The two minutes were up. Without giving himself time to change his mind, Patrick dialed the number of the burner phone that was taped to the device. A few tense seconds passed before a connection was made.
The phone rang once. Then it rang a second time.
A deafening explosion followed. A powerful tremor shook the ground and rattled a few tools lying in the cellar.
“Let’s go.”
Patrick charged up the stairs and flipped open the door. They emerged just in time to see a fireball rise into the sky. Debris and ash billowed outward, and a blaze of light turned the nighttime into day. The bomb had worked even better than he’d expected.
Patrick ran to the house with Danielle at his heels. As the smoke cleared, he could tell the area around the blast had been incinerated completely. He doubted there were any survivors but still proceeded with caution.
“Stay here,” he said as they neared the porch.