Since the two men were facing in the other direction, Zane stepped out from behind the sapling and sprinted to a bush about halfway across the clearing, just behind the gunmen. They continued toward the lodge, obviously trusting that the sniper had them covered in the rear.
Zane ran after them, knowing their own steps would mask the sound of his approach. Seconds later, the two men parted. Zane followed the one on the right, who eventually pulled up behind a gazebo and stopped. Stealth was not an option now, so Zane bore down on his target. When he was a few yards away, the man turned. At first he seemed startled, but then he recovered and lifted his rifle.
But he was too late. Zane already had his pistol up, a red dot wiggling on the man’s forehead. He squeezed the trigger once. There was a soft spit, and the man writhed spasmodically before crumpling to the ground.
Zane ran past the body without a glance. He knew the man had died instantly. After skirting the gazebo, he saw the other gunman running just ahead and watched as he disappeared into a grove of young cedars planted around the back deck of the lodge. Zane continued to the spot where the man had entered, pausing a few feet inside. The saplings were arranged in neat rows like a Christmas tree farm. Unfortunately they were all about seven feet tall, preventing him from seeing anything beyond the row he was in.
Where is he?
There were no sounds. No signs of movement. It was as if he had disappeared into thin air.
Stepping forward, Zane looked down the next row. Empty. Had he already crossed the deck and entered the house? It didn’t seem possible, although he couldn’t rule it out.
As he waited, Zane heard shuffling just ahead, near the deck. He crouched and moved forward slowly. Just after he passed the final line of trees, a shadow closed in on him from the left.
He’d been waiting.
The attacker brought his rifle down toward Zane’s head, but he lifted an arm instinctively, just enough to avoid being knocked out cold. Instead, he received a glancing blow that sent him tumbling backward.
As Zane hit the ground, the night vision goggles dislodged and his gun tumbled out into the darkness. The attacker pounced ruthlessly, pounding Zane’s head with clenched fists. Zane withstood the wave of punches then reached up, yanked the man’s night vision goggles down, and simultaneously pulled the man toward him. Zane then used his own forehead to smash the man’s temple. The attacker grunted in pain, and Zane kicked him off.
Zane rose quickly to his feet and got into a defensive crouch. Surprisingly, the man was already up. Turning, he growled, lowered his head, and charged. Zane reached down and loosed his knife from its sheath. Seconds later, the man hit him. As Zane fell backwards, he held the knife in place, allowing momentum to do its work, impaling the man on the blade.
As the man expired, Zane pushed him away and got up on one knee. He listened, but he heard only the buzz of insects. Other than the man’s growl, the fight had taken place in relative silence.
After locating his gun, Zane crept to the edge of the deck. Both lights that had been on were now off. The other attackers were inside, using the darkness to their advantage.
Zane turned left and sprinted to the side of the house. As he rounded the deck, he saw a small door leading to the garage. He opened it slightly then peered inside. Slater’s Toyota 4-Runner was parked directly in front of him, and the door leading inside was off to the right. As far as he could tell, no one was waiting to ambush him.
Stepping inside, Zane located the electrical panel on the wall to his right. He lifted the cover gently and saw that the main breaker had indeed been turned off. That suited him just fine. He knew the house better than they did.
Skirting the SUV, Zane walked up the steps that led into the house. He opened the door about a foot and slipped into the corridor beyond. On his left was a utility room, its door slightly ajar. Zane used his gun to nudge it all the way open. All clear. After removing his boots, he continued down the hallway and entered the kitchen. He paused and listened. A few seconds later, he heard a slight creak overhead. At least one gunman was on the second floor. In all likelihood, they were all on the upper floors by now.
Zane walked past the kitchen island and squatted in front of the sink. Once there, he dropped down on all fours and felt under the cabinet door until he found the HVAC vent. Sliding his fingers under the edge, he gently pried it off, careful not to let it clang to the floor. He thrust his hand in the space beyond and closed his fingers around three flashbangs hidden there. He pulled them out and stuffed them into his shirt pocket.
Slater, keenly aware that he might someday be targeted, had constructed a number of false vents and compartments throughout the lodge, hiding everything from flashbangs to pistols to knives. There was even a stash of hand grenades in the crawl space, but Zane didn’t have time to retrieve them.
He exited the kitchen and turned left down a hall that ran to the front. When he reached the foyer, he stood silently underneath the giant antler chandelier. He could still hear the creak of footsteps above.
A few feet away, the open stairway twisted in a spiral to the second and third floors. The house was designed with a central atrium running all the way to the top. Each floor had a square landing that wrapped around the stairwell, giving access to all rooms on that level. Zane looked up but saw nothing. Most of the lodge’s blinds were closed, shrouding the interior in darkness. At least he’d taken his boots off, giving him the advantage of stealth.
Zane took the stairs, his gun raised in front of him. Upon arriving at the second floor, he stepped out onto the landing and listened. Most of the sounds seemed to be coming from the third floor, but he needed to clear the second floor first. The last thing he wanted was to get squeezed between teams.
Knock.
He heard something fall over in a room at the front of the house on the same floor. He turned left and moved in that direction. It was so dark it was like walking in a cave. When he was about halfway down the landing, Zane heard another knock, followed by footsteps that seemed to be getting louder. Whoever was in there was coming out.
He looked around. There was a door immediately to his right.
The bathroom.
Thankfully the door was already open, which allowed him to enter without making any noise. By the time he stepped inside, a plan had already formed in his mind. Without night vision goggles, he needed a way to turn the odds back in his favor, and he thought he knew how to do exactly that. He felt around until his fingers touched the drinking glass next to the sink. Slater’s cleaning staff kept the place stocked like a five-star hotel.
The footsteps grew louder.
Zane snatched the glass off the counter then set it on the landing right outside the door. As soon as he did, someone exited the room at the front. Zane jerked back inside and closed the door.
Had he been seen?
The footsteps continued without pause, so Zane backed up a bit further and raised his Glock with both hands. As he waited, the footsteps stopped. Had the man seen the glass? The tactic’s effectiveness was predicated on the assumption that few people ever looked down at their feet.
Suddenly he heard a voice. The man was likely speaking into a headset, letting the team commander know another room had been cleared.
Without warning, the steps resumed again. The man was only a few feet from the bathroom door now.
A second later, Zane heard the clanking of glass. He immediately squeezed off three suppressed shots, the rounds ripping through the thinly constructed door. There was a groan and then a thump as the attacker fell.