Most of the team was enthusiastic about the idea, Raynor being the exception, since the whole truck-stealing episode had continued to weigh on his conscience. “Absolutely not. I don’t want anything to do with it,” Raynor had said.
As the guys discussed it further, Raynor became irritated at the notion that Tychus would get to keep most of the money. “Why wouldn’t everybody share equally?” Raynor demanded.
“I’m the one with the contacts—so I should get a bigger share,” Tychus responded, eyeing the faces around him.
“That’s a crock,” Raynor replied heatedly .“There wouldn’t be any loot without the team!”
Tychus seemed to consider it for a moment, then leaned back, as a lazy smile appeared on his face. “You have me there, Jim … equal shares it is.”
“That’s right!” Raynor said.
And it was only then, as Tychus took a swig of beer, his smile spreading across his face, that Raynor realized he had been conned. The guy was smooth, very smooth.
“Come on,” Tychus said, pulling Raynor out of his thoughts. “It’s time to go down and collect our money. The kid will keep an eye on our neighbors. Ain’t that right, Kydd?”
Like the rest of the squad, Kydd was supposed to be thirty miles to the west, getting drunk in the town of Orley, where an officially sanctioned R&R facility had been established for that purpose. And with any luck at all they would be there later that evening, once the deal was done. Strangely, given his former station in life, the prospect of providing security for an illegal transaction didn’t bother him in the least. Perhaps that had something to do with the way he had been recruited into the Marine Corps—and the fact that he was doing something he was good at for a change. Kydd looked up from the Bosun FN92 sniper rifle and nodded. “No worries, Sarge. I have you covered.”
Raynor, who thought there was plenty to worry about, followed Tychus down a circular staircase to the chapel below. All of the windows were blacked out, and thanks to a liberated battery, lights hung here and there. The nave was barely large enough to hold the truck, which had been backed into it. An absolute necessity to prevent the vehicle from being spotted from the air.
Heavily draped double doors opened onto a courtyard and a shattered gate beyond. A luminescent Harnack was visible to the left, and Zander to the right. Both were standing adjacent to box-shaped structures that resembled tombs.
Raynor hoped the deal would go down smoothly. He wanted to score some money for his parents, but hoped he wouldn’t have to kill anyone to get it. Since they were dealing with criminals, he knew violence was a possibility, so he was prepared for the worst. Of course now, having taken part in the theft of the trucks, he was a criminal himself. A shocking notion that he was still trying to assimilate.
Raynor’s thoughts were interrupted by a burp of static and the sound of Kydd’s voice in his ear. “I have two vehicles approaching from the northeast,” the sniper said. “Both are about the right size and shape. Over.”
“Roger that,” Raynor said, knowing the rest of the team had heard as well. “You know what to do. Over.”
There was a double click by way of a response.
“Okay, everybody,” Tychus said, “it’s showtime!”
A few moments later two green blobs appeared at the gates and disgorged smaller green blobs, which entered the open courtyard. There was a pause while the various players eyed each other suspiciously, followed by another pause as the buyer’s chief of security circled the area. Then, satisfied that the courtyard was reasonably safe, he spoke into a lip mic.
That was when the buyer entered the courtyard and paused to look around. Because of the night vision technology Raynor was using, the details were hard to discern, but he had the impression of a portly middle-aged man wearing night goggles and a white suit. “What a shame,” the man said sadly. “My daughter was married here. That was a very special day. What about you, citizen Smith?” the buyer said, as he looked from Raynor to Tychus. “Do you have children?”
“Probably,” Tychus admitted. “But who can keep track? Did you bring the crystals?”
“Of course,” the buyer said airily. “You know my reputation. So let’s take a look at the components … the very latest in jammers if I’m not mistaken.”
Raynor knew that Kydd was keeping watch, but he couldn’t help but look around nervously. He still couldn’t believe he had let Tychus rope him in—again. This will be the last time, he told himself.
“Follow me,” Tychus replied, and led the man inside. If the buyer was shocked to discover that stolen electronics were being stored inside a chapel, he gave no sign of it as two of his employees jumped up onto the truck and began to inventory the cargo. All the crates had already been opened, in order to speed the process along, but it was still necessary to inspect the boxes on the bottom. So a good twenty minutes passed before the entire process was completed.
Finally, having received a positive report from his chief of security, the buyer declared himself satisfied. “It appears that everything is in order… . Here’s your payment.”
With that, the pear shaped blob waved one of his bodyguards forward. The functionary was carrying a metal case, which he presented to Tychus. The noncom opened it, inspected the crystals stored within, and passed a small, multi-spectrum analyzer over them. Then, having scanned the readout, he nodded approvingly. “They look good… . It’s been nice doing business with you. Will you need help getting the truck out of here?”
“No, that won’t be necessary,” the buyer assured him. “Farewell, my friend … and stay safe. These are dangerous times.”
With that the buyer returned to his vehicle while one of his men started the truck, and drove it out through the double doors and into the courtyard beyond. Dust kicked up as it passed through the gate.
Once the buyer was gone and peace had settled over the scene, Connor Ward slid the top of a tomb out of the way and stood up. His rocket launcher was loaded and ready at his side. “Damn … That’s the last time I spend time in a tomb—until the last time I spend time in one!”
The comment might have been sufficient to elicit a chuckle from the others except that Kydd preempted the moment. “Uh oh, here comes company, Sarge! I have about fifteen heat signatures. They’re on foot and closing from the south. Over.”
Raynor swore bitterly. He’d been hoping for a clean exit.
“They were waiting until the buyer left, the bastards,” Tychus observed, as the first muffled shot was heard. “They saw our customer arrive, figured some sort of deal was in progress, and now they plan to steal the proceeds.”
Raynor knew that these people were prepared to kill his friends to get what they wanted, and he wasn’t about to let that happen. “All right, Ryk … you know what to do. Thin them down. Over.”
A shot rang out. “Hank … Max … get the combat car and drive it into the courtyard. Once you’re in position we’ll pull Kydd down out of the bell tower.”
Both men nodded and vanished into the night. The combat car was hidden inside what had once been a store located two blocks away.
“Come on,” Tychus said. “Kydd won’t be able to get ’em all. Let’s go out back and say ‘howdy.’”
Tychus, Raynor, and Ward slipped out the back of the church as Kydd fired again. “I missed that one,” the sniper said flatly. “Be careful! I think they plan to rush you. Over.”