Chapter 12: Friendly fire

The two searchers vacated the helicopter as Steve and Allison approached. Paul McClung did not.

"I need two minutes to get ready," he said as he raced to his cruiser. In less time that that he was back, armed similarly to Allison without the assault rifle. Instead he carried a 12-gauge pump shotgun. He dressed in his camo as the copter ascended. He saw the look on Steve and Allison's faces, but he refused to acknowledge them.

"Here's what I know," he said without preamble. "There is a place we can set this heap down about two kilometers from the house. It's behind a hill so the noise will be minimal. There is an access road leading to a spot a few hundred meters up a tree line from the house. I think we should make that our recon site.

"I don't think Whitley can get the team here before shit gets nasty, so I don't think we can wait for them unless you absolutely need to. My people tell me there are only five heat signatures in the house, and two of those are supine. That means Stephanie and the four we already know about.

"The man I saw seemed to be unarmed, but he could have had a pistol in his belt. I vote we do a quick fly over to check heat again before setting down. It might be best if Steve did a quick recon once we get on site, but depending on what we see, I'm prepared to evac from the chopper once we clear the trees. There's a small clearing where he can hover and we can jump if the situation dictates. I'd hate to do that. Steve, I don't think you're healthy enough to do that and be any use to Stephanie afterward."

Steve nodded his agreement, but if he had to do it, he'd find a way.

"Sheriff, I wasn't planning on you being with us," McClung said. "The fact that you are makes things a hell of a lot easier, that's for sure. Once we get there, Steve, how do you want to play this?"

Steve thought for a moment.

"One of us has to wait outside for Stephanie," he said. "That's the most important job any of us can do — to get her free and clear before shit comes unglued. The last thing we want is to free her and then lose her in the woods somewhere. I don't have a preference as to which one of you waits. That's for you two to decide. I was planning a solo extraction, but with three of us, we can hit from two sides. Once we identify where everyone is inside, we'll decide where and how pretty quickly.

"Did you see how many entrances there are, Paul?"

Paul shook his head.

"I only saw the front door," he said. "It's pretty well hidden. If the asshole hadn't brought her outside, we'd still be looking. I didn't want to get closer because I didn't want to give anything away."

Steve nodded solemnly.

"Allison, what's your take?" he asked. "You have more practical training dealing with hostage situations that I do. Are we missing anything?"

Allison couldn't believe Steve was treating her as an equal after her screw-up that led to this situation. But he was. She forced the thought from her mind and thought back to her training at the police academy.

"Once we get line-of-sight it might be different," she said. "But for now, we're talking theoretical. The place could have only one entrance or it might have a bomb shelter bunker with a dozen more bad guys hiding out. Heat sigs wouldn't give us that info. Hell, once we get close, the four douche bags might all be taking a potty break at the same time and we take them out clean as a whistle. We'll just have to see."

Paul and Steve both voiced their agreement and within seconds the chopper descended to the drop point.

Ahmed al-Faraouq hated jobs like this. Nothing had gone as planned. First the little bitch and her girlfriend had managed to cut the team's strength in half in less than a minute, forcing him to help one of the group back to the vehicle instead of helping to secure the captive. Her constant flailing forced him to harm her, something he was specifically instructed not to do.

Now the leader was going half crazy. They'd been at the safe house too long. They were out of food and the bleating of his two comrades was starting to grate on his nerves. At least the girl took her pain like a man, but not these two pussies. They cried and whined like little girls themselves.

Then the leader doused the girl with water. It wasn't her fault she smelled badly. She'd asked repeatedly to be allowed to use the facilities, but the leader decided she was too dangerous. What a crock. She was tired and she was injured and she was hungry. The girl had been unconscious from the time al-Faraouq had hit her until after they'd arrived here.

She was no longer a threat unless she could figure out how to use toilet paper as a weapon. After all, that was all that was left in the washroom any more.

As a member of Hamas, al-Faraouq had participated in dozens of operations such as this one — usually with a target that was higher-profile and much more heavily guarded — and this was the biggest mess he'd ever seen. Anyone with any sense could see the snatch was a bust. The only reasons he'd signed on — the chance for a lot of money and a new, official identity — were gone. He knew that. Why didn't the leader understand it?

He'd always avoided operations dealing with children. This girl was a prime example. She had sat stone-straight for the entire time she'd been awake. She hadn't uttered a peep except to let them know she had biological needs to attend to. Yet al-Faraouq knew she was as good as dead, even if no one else could admit it.

As one of the injured made another moan of discomfort, al-Faraouq came a decision. There would be no money waiting for him at the end of this. The only thing waiting for him was a bullet or a prison cell. The leader could face those if he wanted, but Ahmed al-Faraouq wasn't a fool. He was getting out while there was a chance. And he couldn't afford to leave any of his compatriots behind to identify him. Sadly, it meant the little girl would have to be silenced, too. But that was the price of his safety.

As the trio of Steve, Paul, and Allison alit from the helicopter, a decision had been made.

"I think Allison is probably better at close-in combat that I am," Paul said. "I'm probably better with a long-barrel than a short one. I don't want you to think I'm pussying out, but I think it would be better for Stephanie if Allison went in with you and I stayed on the perimeter to provide cover."

Allison quickly agreed with Paul. Steve was glad Paul could admit his shortcomings. Not many men would admit a woman might be better able to deal with hand-to-hand combat that he could. But that still left a series of unanswered questions. As the three approached the house, Steve pulled Allison aside.

"I need to be absolutely clear," he said without rancor. "We are not going in there to arrest or detain prisoners. Anyone you don't recognize has the potential to harm you, Stephanie, or me. I need you to make sure anyone you don't recognize is no longer a threat to us — permanently. That includes the two who may or may not be injured. If you are not absolutely sure you can do this, we'll revise the plan to put you on the perimeter too, and I'll go in alone."

"I'm sure," Allison said tonelessly. "The only people coming out of there will be Stephanie, you, and me."

Allison left the AK-47 with Paul, after Steve made sure it was on semi-automatic fire instead of full-auto, and Steve silently reconnoitered the house. The flyover showed him the two supine captors were in the rear of the house with two others in the front room and one in a side room. He hoped the one in the side room was Stephanie, just for her safety.

He was approaching the area he selected to meet Allison when he heard the unmistakable sound of gunfire coming from the house.

Beau Whitley, Jennifer Pearson, Karl Lemley, Rick Masters, and Ian McDaniels were on the ground in Midvale by the time Steve's group approached the house, courtesy of a stiff tailwind that cut out almost half an hour of their travel. With as much haste as possible, the quintet headed off in the direction of the house using the GPS system to find the coordinates.