Savage Recruit (Ryan Savage Thriller Series Book 8), стр. 18
“A SIG.”
“Threaded?”
I shook my head.
“Grab a SIG and a suppressor from the tool table. We like to keep a low profile when we show up uninvited at someone’s house in the middle of the day.”
I went to the table, slipped my SIG from the back seam of my jeans, and set it down. I selected the desert brown SIG, checked the load, and brought back the slide, press checking it. Boomer tossed me a leg holster and a tactical vest. I strapped them on, grabbed two extra mags and a suppressor off the table, and slipped them into the webbing on my vest.
Granger opened a metal storage cabinet and selected a set of clothes off a shelf. He disappeared to the other side of the curtain, and when he reappeared he was wearing a blue jumpsuit with the HCI logo over his chest. A matching hat sat low over his brows, his ponytail threaded through the back.
Boomer jingled a set of keys while Teacup screwed a suppressor on the end of his HK. “Today’s chariot will be the van,” Boomer said. “Granger will brief us on the lay of the land on the way.” He gave me a nod. “Let’s rock and roll.”
Chapter Five
Adonis Galatas lived in Acharnes, a middle-class suburb in the shadow of Mount Parnitha. The ride across Athens took close to an hour, with traffic clogging the first stretch and a car accident a portion of the last.
As soon as we piled into the van, Teacup stretched out across the back seat and fell asleep. I took the center bench seat, and Granger rode up front with Boomer and a laptop and continued his research on Galatas. “I’m not finding a whole lot of info on this guy,” he said.
“Where does he work?” I asked.
“He doesn’t. I’m not seeing any work history for him. He has regular cash deposits coming into his bank account, but no direct deposits from what looks like an employer. The last real job he had was down at the docks working a forklift. But that ended over two years ago.”
“He’s just the muscle,” Boomer said. “Someone paid him to get Kathleen. If he’s home, we’ll let Teacup work him over until he tells us who. If he’s not home, then we plan a surprise party for when he shows up.”
I looked out the tinted window and watched the city roll by, wondering where Kathleen was and how she was holding up. So far, I’d made a conscious effort to suppress any thoughts about her precise predicament. But now, in the relative silence of the van, all the possibilities surfaced. Was she tied to a chair or strung up by her wrists? Was she being tortured? Abused? Was she scared? Even alive? Kathleen was tough as nails, but everyone, regardless of training or disposition, had their limits. Everyone cracked at some point.
Kathleen had given her entire life to protect her country. Now it was time for her country to protect her.
I took out my phone and typed out a message to Zoe: Stay strong. I’m going to find her and bring her home safe. That’s a promise.
Boomer exited the highway and turned onto a newly paved street lined with three- and four-story condos, privacy shrubs and date palms blocking out those on the ground floor. The road began a slight incline the closer we moved to the mountain, and the condos gave way to single-story homes with lush lawns and walled backyards.
“Half a mile,” Granger said. Boomer pulled to the curb. Granger stepped out with two magnetic signs that read “HCI Logistics.” He affixed them to the sides of the van and got back in. I turned around and smacked Teapot’s leg with the back of my hand. “Showtime.” He grunted and sat up, looking like he was in an Ambien haze. Granger unsnapped a Pelican case and passed around our ear mics. Once we had them in and tested, Granger passed back an iPad with the home’s floor plan. While we studied it, he summarized the information.
“Two stories, main entrance is dead center, staircase is on the north wall. Swimming pool in the back. The wall should be six meters. Master bedroom at the back of the first floor. Three bedrooms on the second. Didn’t get any pings on an alarm system, so we should be straight.” Teapot finished with the iPad, and I handed it back up.
“There,” Granger said. “Third on the right.” He opened the glove box and swapped the laptop for a clipboard.
“Teapot and Granger, you take floor two. Savage and I will take the ground.” He stopped long enough for Granger to jump out and started away again before the door had fully closed. Granger walked casually down the sidewalk and turned down the walkway leading to Galatas’s front door. My mic picked up the sound of him knocking on the door and announcing in Greek that he had a delivery.
Boomer reached a cross street and turned around, slowly making his way back. Granger knocked again, more loudly this time.
“Nothing,” he whispered. “Inside is quiet.”
“Twenty seconds,” Boomer said. “Get picking.”
“Roger that.”
Boomer pulled over, and I heard Teapot re-checking the load on his HK. Boomer turned the van off and said, “On my mark.”
My veins were tingling with adrenaline.
“Lock is disengaged,” Granger whispered.
“Go.”
The three of us exited the van and moved smoothly across the lawn with our weapons at the ready. Granger was at the front door, standing to the side with his hand on the knob. When Boomer gave him a nod, he flung open the door, and we flooded in, silent as Christmas Eve.
Granger and Teapot moved left toward the open staircase and started up as Boomer and I worked in tandem to clear the dining room and study at the front of the house. Moving into the kitchen, I cleared the corners, and Boomer advanced, training his muzzle ahead. Next was the living room, a small bathroom, and a sunroom.