Crossfire (Book 1) (The Omega Group) (15 page)

Daedric sat at his desk in his home office staring out his
picture window at the St. John’s River and the Jacksonville skyline in the
distance. His guests from Atlanta would be arriving soon and he was enjoying
this quiet time while he could. The view from the back of his Ortega home was
spectacular and would have been more than enough reason for him to purchase
this property on its own. But that wasn’t what had attracted him to this
neighborhood, nor was it the reason he laid out millions of dollars to buy this
house. It was the address that made this place irresistible to him.

Ortega was one of the richest and most prestigious neighborhoods
in the country. It was an island surrounded by the St. John’s River on one side
and the Ortega River on the other. The man-made land bridge was the only thing
connecting it to the mainland and the wealthiest of men waited years for
property on this island to become available.

Daedric had only waited minutes.

Once he found the mansion he wanted, Daedric simply made the
owner an offer he, quite literally, couldn’t refuse. He could have paid much
less than he did, nothing even, but felt the scrutiny he’d surely receive once
the public records showed an unbelievable purchase price wasn’t worth it.
Paying fair market value was the easiest way for him to stay under the radar,
and a few million to him was a drop in the bucket.

Phase one of his plan had gone off without a hitch. Although
he hated to give credit to the vile preternaturals that had done his dirty
work, even he had to admit they’d done very well. Using their unique abilities
to circumvent the security systems that protected the world’s largest oil
supply facilities, then destroying them simultaneously just in time for the
morning news cycle in America was exactly how Daedric had planned it. They’d
followed his instructions to the very last detail – surely a sign of how
desperate they were to receive the payment he’d promised. Sipping his favorite
cognac, Daedric allowed himself to bask in the glory of his victory while
contemplating his next move. The timing had to be just right.

A tentative knock at his office door drew him out of his
solo revelry. “Enter!” he said gruffly.

Juan Trejo, a lieutenant in Daedric’s army, stepped slowly
into the room, leaving the door open behind him as though he might need an
escape plan. He had drawn the short straw and, therefore, was the one that had
to face their boss.

“Well?” Daedric asked, agitated by the interruption.

“They got away, sir.” The lieutenant stared at the floor as
he spoke the words that would get him killed. “They had an escape tunnel and by
the time we reached the place where it exited on the beach, they were already
on board a helicopter that was sent to rescue them. We were able to secure
everything that was in the house before the police arrived so we might get a
lead from that, but…”

Trejo stopped mid-sentence as Daedric slowly rose from his
chair. The contentment that had filled him only moments ago was replaced now
with pure rage. All of his plans had been moving along perfectly, as though the
entire world was following his carefully written playbook, yet he wasn’t able
to destroy one little girl. The one person on this earth that was destined to
stop him.

Daedric shook with anger as he spoke. “Tell Grainger to come
in here and face me himself.”

“We can’t find him, sir.” Trejo almost whispered. “His
vehicle was found outside their safe house, but there was no trace of Commander
Grainger. Either they killed him before we got there or…”

Daedric’s anger exploded at the betrayal he suspected
Grainger had committed. The entire room shook as he screamed. The beautiful
picture window blew out in a barrage of shattered glass as bookshelves toppled
to the floor. The air turned electric, and when Trejo tried to run to the
relative safety of the hallway, the door slammed shut in front of him. Slowly
turning to face his now furious boss, Trejo made the sign of the cross and his
lips moved in a silent prayer. That prayer would remain unanswered.

Still screaming, Daedric glared at the man who’d had the
misfortune of bringing him bad news. He thrust both his hand in front of him as
though strangling an invisible doll then viciously tore that doll apart,
simultaneously separating Trejo’s head from the rest of his body. The blood
spatter on the wall and the growing pool of it on the Oriental rug succeeded in
sating Daedric’s hunger for the moment. The expression of terror still etched
on the severed head’s face gave him some small modicum of satisfaction.

Straightening his shirt, Daedric walked out of his office
and into the hall where a group of his soldiers huddled together, curiosity
getting the better of them. The men parted like the Red Sea at Daedric’s
approach, each trying desperately to blend in with their surroundings so as to
not draw any unwanted attention.

“Get that mess cleaned up,” was all he said, and every one
of them ran to follow his orders. Let that serve as a lesson to them, Daedric
thought. Now he had another lesson to teach—a lesson that would ensure that no
one ever betrayed him again.

Grainger hadn’t stopped fidgeting since they’d left the Navy
base. His nerves were getting the better of him and Steve knew he’d have to get
him calmed down before they made their move. Lincoln was driving the late model
Crown Vic with Blackjack in the passenger seat. Steve and Grainger were in the
back with the weapons.

“You need to get yourself under control, Bill. You’re no
good to us, or your wife, like this.” Steve tried to sound reassuring and
authoritative at the same time, but he could see that Grainger was clearly at
the end of his rope. If he couldn’t pull himself together, he would put the
mission, and the lives of his friends and former teammates at risk. “Maybe you
should sit this one out. You’ve already given us the intel you have on
Daedric’s property, and our plan, such that it is, can be re-worked so that the
three of us can do it.”

Grainger immediately stopped his fidgeting and looked Steve
in the eye. “Would you sit on the sidelines if it were your wife in there?”

Steve didn’t have to answer that question. Everyone in the
car knew he’d move heaven and earth to get to his wife, so he just stared back
at Grainger and nodded his understanding.

“Don’t worry guys. I won’t let my personal feelings screw up
this op. I’m well trained and won’t risk your lives. You have my word.”

The uncomfortable silence that followed was quickly broken
when Jack “Blackjack” Lane broke into uproarious laughter. “We’re about to walk
into a house that’s owned by an evil demi-god and protected by an evil army.
Yep! No life-risking there.”

“I see your point.” Grainger smiled. “And in case I forgot
to say it already, thank you. I know none of you have to do this, but I’m
really grateful that you are.”

“Hey. You saved Myrine’s life back at the safe house. The
least I can do is return the favor.” Steve reached out to shake Grainger’s hand
and the conversation was over. For better or worse, they were all going in.

As they approached the island they turned off Highway 17 and
on to Ortega Boulevard, which ran the entire length of the eastern shore of the
island. Daedric’s place was a sprawling two-story estate on the river about a
mile onto the island. Normally, the sheer number of rooms in a mansion that
size would make breaching it safely next to impossible. But in this case, they
had inside knowledge of where Meghan was being held and could get in and out
without needing to search the entire house. Grainger had also trained most of
the men on premises so he knew their procedures even better than they did. With
a little luck, the four of them would be able to pull this off quickly and
quietly.

And those, thought Steve, were the proverbial “famous last
words” that people spoke of.

Lincoln pulled their car onto Pawnee Street and parked under
an overhang of branches. At this early hour the streets were deserted. Their
target house was only a few hundred yards away and all four men busied
themselves with checking their weapons, equipment, and communication devices.
Once everyone was ready, Steve gave the go ahead order, and they exited the
vehicle.

Meghan, according to Grainger, was being held in the pool
house at the northeast corner of the property. Guards were posted both inside
the building and at each of the exterior entrances. Their best chance of
extraction was through a second story dormer window on the north side that was
reachable by climbing a large oak tree that grew between their target house and
its closest neighbor. Once inside, however, they would have to play it by ear.

Grainger had been allowed weekly visits to his wife and had
used that time to not only reconnect with her, but to scope out her security should
the opportunity to rescue her ever arise. Although each visit was limited to
only twenty minutes, he was able to glean enough intel to be confident that the
upstairs rooms were empty of guards. The downstairs was another story. Anywhere
from three to five armed men patrolled that area at all times and, given the
certainty of Daedric’s knowledge of his betrayal, they would be on high alert.

Their other obstacle would be finding Meghan. Although the
building was a pool house, it was larger than most standard homes. They had no
way of knowing which room she would be in, and the longer they searched, the
less chance they had of remaining undetected.

Steve was nervous. Not only had it been many years since his
last mission with the SEALs, the variables of this op were more than a four man
team should face. The odds were against them and they all knew it.

Steve led the team through the trees and bushes along the
northern property line of Daedric’s house until they reached the back of the
pool house and the oak tree that was to be their entrance. Using hand signals,
Steve directed his companions to stand guard while he climbed to a better
vantage point. With his rifle slung across his back, he slowly ascended until
his sightline was even with their target window. Seeing no immediate threat, he
signaled the all clear to his team and began to shimmy across the heavy branch
that would bring him to the roof of the pool house, just below the dormer.

A soft glow from inside the house illuminated enough of the
room on the other side of the window for Steve to see that it was empty. Slowly
planting his feet on the shingled roof, Steve used the branch to push himself
up until he was crouched next to the dormer and out of sight of anyone that
might be walking past the room’s open door. While he waited for the other men
to make their way across, he inspected the edges of the window, looking for any
wires that might have been attached to an alarm system. Seeing none, and with
all four men now on the roof, he took out his knife and slid it between the top
and bottom panes of glass. A moment later, he had the latch moved to the unlock
position, and he and Lincoln raised the window until it was fully open. Steve
was first to enter, then Grainger and Lincoln. When it was Blackjack’s turn,
his broad shoulders proved too wide to fit through the small dormer window’s
opening. After repeated efforts to no avail, it was decided that he would stay
outside and await their return.

With Jack’s absence, the men chose to work in one team of three,
instead of the original two teams of two that had been planned. It would take
them longer to search the house that way, but safety had to be their first
priority. They couldn’t help Meghan if they were dead.

As they made their way to the room’s only door, they trained
their ears on the rest of the house. No sounds, other than their own breathing,
could be heard. A quick glance out the door found no guards in the hallway, so
the men crouched low and rounded the doorframe. The hall was lined with three bedrooms
on the exterior side and a carved wooden banister on the other that looked over
the living room a floor below. They were out in the open now and needed to move
quickly.

Keeping as close to the wall as possible, they crept down
the hall to the next bedroom. Lincoln gently turned the knob and pushed the
door silently open while Steve and Grainger entered with rifles leveled. A king
sized bed that looked like it hadn’t been slept in sat on the right wall. They
checked the closet and the bathroom and, finding no one, left the room as
silently as they had come in, closing the door behind them.

The next room also had a king size bed, but this one was in
shambles. The comforter was half on the floor and the sheets were twisted up in
a ball at its base. Grainger half smiled as he whispered, “This must be her
room. She tosses and turns a lot at night.” With renewed hope they again
checked the closet and bathroom, only to have the same results as the room
before. She wasn’t there.

Exiting Meghan’s room, the three men made their way to the
stairs at the end of the hall that led to the large living room below. Again
keeping their backs to the wall with their weapons drawn, they slowly
descended, expecting trouble with every step. At the base of the stairs they had
a clear view of the entire room and the entrance to the kitchen, yet there were
still no guards.

“Something’s wrong.” Lincoln whispered. “We should have seen
someone by now.”

Grainger and Steve both nodded in agreement. The open floor
plan made quick work of their search and they came up empty. No guards and no
Meghan.

The look on Grainger’s face said it all. “We’re too late.
She’s gone.”

“Yes. Meghan’s not in the pool house, but that doesn’t mean
she’s gone. They could have just moved her.” Steve had hold of Grainger’s
shoulders as he spoke, trying to keep him focused on the job at hand and not on
the possibility of his wife’s demise. “You know Daedric. You worked for him for
years. What would he do? Where would he take her?”

Grainger shook his head as though ridding himself of the
images his mind had conjured of his wife’s death. “He knows that I’ve betrayed
him and the penalty for that has always been Meghan’s death.” He paused for a
moment while he struggled to stay focused. “But that would only be part of it.”

Hope shone in Grainger’s eyes as realization dawned on him.
“He would want to use this as an example to the rest of his men. Something to
remind them what will happen if any of them think to follow my lead. He’d need
to make her death a show.” His words trailed off.

Steve cut in before he lost Grainger completely. “That’s
good. Now, where would Daedric have a show like that? Think, Bill.”

Grainger was staring at the floor with a slightly glazed
look in his eyes that told Steve he was teetering on the edge. Suddenly,
Grainger jerked his head up and stared at Steve with sharp, clear eyes. “His
game room! Daedric uses it for large group meetings with the men. He’s also
played more than a few of his sadistic games in there. If he wants to make this
point, that’s where he’ll do it.”

“All right, then.” Steve smiled. “Now all we need is a
plan.”

Entering the main house added a slew of risks to the already
long list of problems this extraction had. The enemy numbers would be high, the
electronic security would be tight, and the sheer size of the place would make
clearing it room by room impossible before they were detected. All of this, and
they were about to lose the cover of darkness with the sunrise.

“Let’s go back out the way we came, rendezvous with Blackjack,
and see what we’re dealing with.”

Once on the roof, Steve brought Blackjack up to speed on
their situation. “I knew everything was going too easily. Nothing is ever that
easy.”

Donning their binoculars, all four men made their way to the
apex of the pool house roof, staying as low as possible so as to keep hidden
from anyone that might be glancing their way. The view from the roof allowed
them a clear line of sight to both the north side and the back of the main
house. The rotund floor to ceiling windows of the game room on the first floor
jutted out of the center of the back wall. Just inside those windows, in the
center of what appeared to be a large stage, stood a petite blonde woman. She
was wearing a long yellow nightgown and had her hands shackled to a column that
stood behind her. Her shoulders were hunched in defeat and she appeared to be
crying.

Steve put his hand on Grainger’s shoulder, silently lending
him his support, and at the same time stopping him from jumping off the roof and
running headlong into a group of men that would kill him on sight. Although
time was not on their side, they couldn’t afford to rush this.

The roof of the glassed-in atrium where Meghan was being
held doubled as a second story balcony and the four men decided to use it as
their staging area. Reaching in his backpack, Lincoln pulled out a futuristic
looking crossbow with a long coil of heavily braided wire hanging from it. He
steadied himself on the roof, trained the sights on another oak tree and, after
a making a couple of minor adjustments, pulled the trigger.

With a barely audible click and a long whoosh, a short,
metal arrow shot out of its cradle at a slightly downward angle and flew toward
the target tree, pulling behind it the braided wire. Three seconds later it was
deeply imbedded in the three-foot-wide trunk. Lincoln secured the crossbow to
the chimney of the pool house. After a quick test that the wire was taught,
Steve slung a short leather strap over the wire and wrapped the ends around
both of his hands. Blackjack swept the area with his binoculars and, upon
seeing no guards, gave a quick nod of his head. Steve pulled his knees to his
chest and allowed gravity to pull him along the wire toward the balcony above
the game room. When the closest railing was only a few feet in front of him, he
extended his legs and hooked his boots under the railing to stop his forward
momentum before he sailed in front of any windows. Releasing one of his hands
from the leather strap, he held on to the wire for balance and gently stepped
down onto the balcony. A quick thumbs up to his team and he crept to the edge
of the nearest window while Grainger flew toward him.

The room inside was dark, but Steve’s eyes were fully
adjusted to the lack of light and had no problem determining that it was empty.
With one eye on the window, Steve waited as, one by one, the other three men
landed next to him.

Although their target was only a few feet below their feet,
getting to her was going to be tricky. Steve pulled a small mirror out of his
pack and lay down at the edge of the balcony. The lights were on in the room
below so, with the mirror in hand, he reached through the railing to take a
look.

“There’s a group of ten uniformed soldiers milling around
the entrance, armed but with their weapons holstered. Looks like they’re
waiting for someone.” Steve changed the mirror’s angle and continued. “Meghan’s
hands are bound with a length of rope around the column. She doesn’t look
injured. There are double doors right below me, behind the stage. I can’t tell
if they’re locked.”