Chris Kuzneski - The Hunters

‘No more jokes,’ Cobb snapped. ‘Watch our six.’

‘Can’t I do both?’ McNutt asked rhetorically.

The alpha plan was simple, as most plans were on paper. Sarah would infiltrate the mansion from the sky, find the package, secure it, and make her way back to the rooftop. From there, she would travel across the tops of several neighboring buildings until she could safely descend to street level.

As for Cobb, he would blend in with the guards outside the house, ready to provide on-site support at a moment’s notice. McNutt and his sniper rifle would remain at a distance, in position to cover their escape. Meanwhile, Garcia would monitor all electronic aspects of the operation and update them on the status of everyone involved: the guards, the Feds, and innocent bystanders.

Unfortunately, plans change.

Now that the Russians had been alerted to their activities, the team had to adapt to the situation. Using real-time satellite images, Garcia was able to direct Cobb and Sarah into the shadows of the nearby houses and through the first wave of guards. The duo were more than a block from Kozlov’s mansion, but they were far from safe. They knew his henchmen were somewhere in the dark behind them, and stopping only closed the distance.

‘They’re hunting in packs like wild dogs,’ Garcia informed them. ‘The good news is they don’t have your scent. The bad news is they’re getting close.’

Cobb slipped off his soggy jacket. ‘Civilians?’

‘Plenty,’ Garcia said. ‘But it will be tough to blend in. Everyone knows everyone in this part of town. The only visitors are here for the beach.’

Cobb smiled. ‘That’s exactly what I had in mind.’

‘What do you mean?’ Sarah asked, confused.

He inspected her from head to toe. ‘Take off your pants.’

‘Excuse me?’ she barked. ‘What the hell do you mean, “take your pants off”? What exactly do you think-’

Cobb brought a finger to his lips, asking her to stop.

Normally, he would have reached out and clamped his hand over someone’s mouth, ensuring his or her silence. But he had the feeling that with Sarah, such action might have resulted in the loss of a finger … or a testicle.

‘Look at yourself,’ he explained. ‘You’re not going to blend in like that. Right now you don’t even have a face.’

‘How does taking off my pants make things better?’

McNutt chimed in. ‘In my experience, it never makes things worse !’

Cobb removed his shirt, exposing washboard abs. He wasn’t as fit as he had been in his twenties, but he was still in better shape than most. ‘Kozlov saw you in the catsuit. We have to assume he spread the word to all his guards. They’ll be looking for someone dressed in black.’

‘Fine!’ Sarah conceded. She quickly unlaced her booties, kicked them off, and peeled off the lower half of her suit. Standing there in a black thong, she mockingly posed for Cobb. ‘Happy?’

He turned his head from the athletic blonde, focusing his attention on his shoes and socks. She was stunning, he had to admit, but there was a time and place to acknowledge it. That sure as hell wasn’t now. ‘What about your bra?’

‘Screw you!’ she snapped. ‘I’m not showing you my boobs!’

‘Now we’re talking!’ McNutt said, trying to find her in his sniper’s scope. ‘Should I get undressed, too?’

Cobb tried to explain as he took off his own pants. Underneath, he was wearing a pair of boxer briefs that looked like swimming trunks. ‘That’s not what I meant. Does your bra look like a bikini, or does it actually look like underwear?’

‘Oh,’ she said, finally understanding his meaning. ‘It’s a sports bra.’

‘Great. Hurry and take off your top.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘My prom date said the exact same thing.’

Cobb smiled. ‘You can tell me about that later. For now, let’s worry about getting out of here.’ He changed his focus to his earpiece. ‘McNutt, how we looking?’

‘Good enough for a threesome.’

‘Focus!’ Cobb demanded. ‘Are we clear?’

‘Not really,’ McNutt answered, ‘but the situation isn’t going to get better anytime soon. You should move now before it’s too late.’

Cobb nodded at Sarah, who looked like a swimsuit model in her bra and panties. She reluctantly stuffed her catsuit in a trash barrel as they made their way onto the beach. Cobb put his arm around her shoulder to complete the look of two lovers headed for a late-night swim, but the only thing bulging in his shorts was a concealed pistol.

Koontz called for backup from the van while Callahan started his search for the two intruders. He knew he was taking a big risk by putting himself in the line of fire while his partner stayed behind, but Callahan saw this was a special opportunity. If they could prove through eyewitness testimony that Kozlov’s vault was filled with stolen art, then they could get the warrants they needed to search the mansion.

In Callahan’s mind, that would be a career changer.

No more vans. No more stakeouts. No more bullshit.

He would finally get the respect he deserved.

Oh, and Koontz might benefit, too.

Callahan, who had several years of tactical experience and was an expert on Kozlov’s local infrastructure, realized only the dumbest thieves in the world would try to escape through the streets of Little Odessa where thousands of interlopers would be willing to help Kozlov. On the other hand, a smart criminal would head toward the beach where they could use the darkened waters of the Atlantic to slip away unnoticed.

Running as fast as he could, Callahan dashed between Kozlov’s mansion and his neighboring guardhouse, hoping to spot the intruders before they reached the water. He had no idea who he was looking for, but he hoped someone would stand out.

Unfortunately, that someone turned out to be him.

During combat situations, it is quite common for inexperienced personnel to make astoundingly stupid mistakes. Whether it’s the rush of adrenalin, the fear of death, or a combination of the two, new recruits have been known to do the dumbest things — the kind of errors that lead to casualties and bloodshed.

It has been that way since the dawn of time.

When Kozlov first sounded the alarm, word quickly spread through the ranks that two intruders had been spotted: one dressed in black, the other dressed in a suit. Eventually, other details emerged. The second suspect was a middle-aged white guy. Average build. Average height. And armed with a semi-automatic. Caution should be used when taking him out because the Feds were snooping around.

Somehow that message was garbled along the way. Maybe it was lost in translation. Or maybe it was something else. Whatever the reason, the four guards on beach patrol heard the following: Use caution when taking out the Fed .

He is the middle-aged white guy dressed in a black suit .

Unfortunately for Callahan, that described him perfectly.

He hoped to find the intruders on the beach, but quickly found himself in the crosshairs of half the Russian Army, who chased him with guns blazing.

One moment he was the hunter.

The next he was the prey.

Cobb and Sarah flinched when they heard the gunshots. They quickly realized that they weren’t the targets — but one of the FBI agents was.

‘Shit,’ they said in unison.

In their former lives, both had served their country with pride. Cobb was an ex-soldier, and Sarah had worked for the CIA. At one time or another, each of them had benefited from outside assistance, so neither was willing to leave the agent in his time of need, even if it meant hindering their own escape.