Brad Taylor - Enemy of Mine

She regained her balance and closed her eyes, getting her breathing under control. She looked up, trying to determine where the ledge began again. She knew it did from studying the target window during the day. The gap had to be small. Something that had just crumbled through time.

She strained to see through the gloom, wishing she’d worn night-vision goggles. She had decided against them because of their lack of depth perception, but she could have used them now.

A passing car spilled enough light for her to see the ledge, a mere foot away. But it might as well have been a mile.

She took several deep breaths, working up her courage. When she was ready, she turned her feet left and right until they were flush with the wall, then dropped her left hand from the ledge. Spread-eagled, sliding directly against the rough brick, she inched across the gap. When she felt she had gone far enough, she slid her hands above her head and felt relief flood through her when they made contact.

Minutes later, she reached the target window. Leaving one hand on the ledge, she pulled out the glass cutter and sliced a circle directly above the window latch. Popping it free, she reached inside to twist the latch. She hesitated. The asset had said the building wasn’t alarmed beyond the first floor, but she knew she was now betting her life on that information.

So what are you going to do? Go back?

She twisted the latch and popped the window an inch, holding her breath. Nothing outward happened. She rapidly raised the window, wanting to be on the inside if a silent alarm had been triggered. In one fluid move, she squatted, rotated around, and fell backward into the room.

She rose in a crouch, drawing her Glock. When nothing happened, she reported, “Inside.”

Pike came back on, “Jesus Christ, Koko. Took you long enough. We’re out here having a heart attack. How about some SITREPs?”

She grinned at the stupid call sign she’d earned on their last mission, but said nothing, settling for a double-click of the transmission button.

She moved to the door of the office and drew the thermal imaging device, placing it directly on the wood. She turned it on, hearing the soft whine as it warmed up. Within seconds, she could pick up any heat source in the hallway on the other side. And she saw at least two. Moving.

Not good. According to the asset, there were no guards in the building after nightfall. Just one lone sentry in the electronics store downstairs.

Maybe that’s him. Maybe he’ll move back downstairs in a little bit.

She pulled back to the far corner of the room and gave Pike an update.

He replied, “You said two? There shouldn’t be two. If that’s the sentry, it should just be one.”

She said, “Yeah, I know. Let me give it a few minutes and see what happens.”

Pike came back again, repeating himself, “Koko, you copy? There shouldn’t be two.”

She replied again, only to hear, “Koko, Koko, this is Pike, you copy?”

She keyed the mike again, but didn’t get through. She realized her radio was dead.

She heard a squeak and saw the door opening inward.

I tried one more time to contact Jennifer, then hammered the floor of the van.

Knuckles said, “Easy. She didn’t say she was in trouble. She sounded calm. It’s just a radio issue.”

“Maybe. Decoy, get up in the front. Get eyes out and see if there’s any sort of reaction coming.”

My imagination was taking on a life of its own, spurred by the thoughts of what I had been through in the Palestinian refugee camp.

Decoy said, “No reaction yet. Dead as a cemetery out there.”

I picked up my suppressed H amp;K UMP and turned on the holosight, checking the reticle.

Knuckles said, “Hold on. Stick with the plan. Don’t jump the gun here.”

Brett read my expression and started working his UMP.

I tried to reach her again and failed. My mind flashed to the pruning shears, the absolute terror of captivity, superimposing Jennifer in the hands of those monsters. No fucking way.

I dialed her cell phone and got voice mail. That was the last straw. I said, “Kit up. We’re going in.”

Decoy scrambled into the back, strapping the EMP gun to his side while Knuckles said, “Pike, you sure about this?”

I powered up my night-vision goggles and said, “You don’t know what they’ll do to her. I’ve been there.”

He stared at me for a second more, then started kitting up. When everyone was ready, I said, “No change to the plan. Brett leads the way. Any questions?” Nobody said a word, and I slid open the van door. We hit the ground running, reaching the front door in seconds.

Decoy, Knuckles, and I pulled security outward while Brett went to work on the lock of the wrought-iron gate covering the glass door. Within seconds he had it open, swinging it out of the way. He turned back to me, his NODs looking like cat’s eyes caught in a flashlight. I tapped Decoy, and they switched places, Decoy handing his UMP, radio, and NODs to me. He swung the EMP gun around while the remainder of us moved out in a semicircle about ten feet away.

Knuckles had said the EMP worked fine, but it had a tendency to backsplash, and the last thing I wanted was to short-circuit all of our electronics while we destroyed the alarm leads.

There was a short hum, then nothing. Decoy whirled back around, pumping his fist up and down. I tossed him his kit as we collapsed back onto the glass door.

Brett went to work on the lock just as I noticed movement inside. A flashlight hit us full on, lighting up the alcove and blinding our NODS. Decoy fired over Brett’s shoulder through the door, and the light dropped.

Brett quit working the lock and simply kicked the bullet holes, shattering the pane of glass and rushing through the gap. We all followed suit, fanning out to cover the room.

Jennifer rolled to the right, in the direction the door opened, using it to block the view of the person entering. She heard a man speaking Arabic, answered by another. She leveled her Glock at the opening, wanting to wait until the man fully entered before pulling the trigger. She hoped that the darkness and the fact that her pistol was suppressed would allow her an element of surprise, letting her get the jump on the second man before he realized what had occurred to the first.

Nothing happened. All she heard was a slight slapping of the wall. Then the lights blazed on in the room.

Oh shit.

She coiled her legs underneath her, preparing to close the gap and shorten her trigger time between targets. She rose into a crouch, focusing on her front sight post, when the sharp sound of breaking glass cratered the silence.

The two men began yammering, then she heard the sound of running feet. She waited a minute, then inched toward the entry and peeked out. The hallway was empty.

She raced to the door the asset had described, ripped out her lockpick set, and went to work. Not nearly as experienced as the rest of the team, it took her several minutes to break the lock free, the time beating her down as she reflexively looked over her shoulder for the two men to return.

She felt the tumblers click and slipped inside the office, snicking the door closed behind her. She surveyed the room in the soft glow of her flashlight and saw three desktop computers.

Which one? She didn’t have time to do all three, and the damn asset hadn’t mentioned more than one system.

She went to the back of the computers, finding their Ethernet ports. Two had CAT 5 cables running out. The one on the left had nothing. Gotta be it. Unless the damn asset was wrong about the air gap too.

She powered down the system, plugged the automated cloning device into a USB port, and fired the computer back up. When the screen reappeared, she followed the prompts to clone the hard drive. After hitting YES to the question about proceeding, she got an hourglass with a digital bar showing twenty minutes remaining.