Brett Battles - The Destroyed

The farm was south of the city, sandwiched between tree-covered hills on one side and a vineyard with row after row of maturing vines on the other. There were two buildings: a two-story, traditional-looking main house, and a taller, rectangular-shaped outbuilding that had a single door on one side, but no other visible doorways or windows.

Nate and Daeng had already done a complete circle around the property, using the vines as cover along the back, and going farther out on either side to remain unseen in the brush.

Nate nodded at the outbuilding, and said, “That’s got to be where they’re holding her.”

If Mila was in the house, the others wouldn’t have wasted manpower putting a guard near the entrance to the outbuilding. Given that a man was posted there, it was logical that she was inside.

“One way in, one way out,” Daeng said. “If you’re right, she’s going to be hard to get to.”

“But not impossible,” Nate said.

“No. Few things are impossible.”

Despite his earlier doubts, Nate was warming up to Daeng. In truth, his concerns had stemmed from the fact he hadn’t known the guy, and, if he was completely honest, a tinge of unexpected jealousy that Daeng had replaced him as Quinn’s go-to guy. Idiotic, he knew, but there it was. Now, that was starting to fade.

“So how do we know for sure she is there?” Daeng asked.

“Excellent question.” Nate scanned the grounds. “If we can get close enough, we might be able to find out.”

“If we both go, that’ll double the risk we’ll be noticed.”

“True.”

“So just one of us, then. Unless you’re not worried about that.” Daeng paused, then said, “We could just go in and take everyone out.”

Nate had been thinking the same thing, but knew it was not the right call. As confident as he was that these were the people who had Mila, they still couldn’t be one hundred percent sure. While Daeng had seen the faces of the men who’d gone into Julien’s building, he had yet to see any of the same ones here so far. Perhaps Giacona and his contact had given Nate a false lead, in which case Mila wouldn’t be here at all. They had to be sure before they tried anything aggressive.

“We’ll save that option for later,” Nate said. “For now, I’ll go.”

“I can do it.”

“I’m sure you can, but I need to do this.”

Daeng dipped his head in acceptance.

“Comm gear,” Nate said, reaching into his pocket.

As he pulled out his mic and earpiece, he felt something crinkle in the inside pocket of his jacket. He reached in and pulled out Mila’s envelope. In the rush to get Quinn medical attention, then to find Mila before it was too late, he’d forgotten all about it.

Whatever it contained had been important to Mila. He patted the outside of the envelope. Bunched together at the bottom were two square shapes, each a little less than half the size of a credit card. The flap was taped in place, not sealed, so he undid the top corner and peeked inside. The squares were flash drives, the bigger kind some cameras used a few years earlier. It was too dark to see how much data they held, but based on their apparent age, he doubted either was larger than a few hundred megabytes. They could have held almost anything, but ultimately it wasn’t his business.

He folded the envelope and handed it to Daeng. “Hold on to this. I think it might be what Mila took from Julien’s place. She’ll want it back.”

Daeng put it in his pocket.

“I’ll check the house first. Come at it from the rear,” Nate said. “You be my eyes and ears, so try not to get me killed.”

The corner of Daeng’s mouth rose. “No promises.”

From his hidden position on the hill, Daeng was able to steer Nate clear of the guards, and get him to the farmhouse. From that point it was up to Nate. All Daeng could do was watch his back.

The house was well built-perhaps too well. Not just any old farmhouse, Nate decided. He was sure it had been built specifically for one purpose-to be used as a safe house.

There were windows along the back, but no doors, so no easy way in. He peeked around the side, hoping for something a bit more helpful. But it was just as devoid of potential access points as the back.

“Down, down, down!” Daeng said in his ear.

Nate dropped to the ground.

“Guard coming around, walking close to the building.”

Nate hugged the dirt.

A moment later, he could hear the crunch of footsteps. As the man neared the corner Nate had just peeked around, he paused.

Without moving a muscle, Nate mentally worked out the most efficient way to retrieve his gun in time to do any good.

There was the sound of a scratch, then the whiff of sulfur, followed seconds later by the strong odor of cigarette smoke.

Nate could hear the man take a couple of puffs.

Reach for the grip while you roll, Nate told himself. Pull up and over. Fire.

He ran the drill through his mind one more time.

A step. Not one continuing around the building, but one toward the building.

Come on, buddy. Turn back around. Walk away.

Unfortunately, the man didn’t turn, and he didn’t walk away. He came right up to the building, only a foot or two around the corner. So close, in fact, that if Nate reached above his head and slipped his hand around the edge, he could have probably grabbed the guy’s ankle.

What the hell was this idiot doing? All the man had to do was glance around the corner and he’d see Nate.

Turn.

Around.

And.

Walk.

Away.

If Nate thought it any louder, the words would actually fly from his lips.

The man unzipped his pants.

No. No, no, no, no!

At first he heard the sound of a few drops hitting the building, then a steady stream. Nate had no idea how the ground that butted up against the house was grated. Would the growing puddle reach around to where he was lying?

He felt the sudden urge to jump up and run, but if he moved, the guard would hear him.

You couldn’t have just used a tree?

The smell of urine intensified, which he knew had to mean it was getting closer. As carefully as possible, he lifted his head until it hovered a quarter inch above the ground.

Around the corner, the stream finally turned to a trickle. After a few more seconds, it stopped completely. The guard zipped up and walked away.

As soon as he felt it was safe, Nate sat up. The dirt where his head had been lying was indeed soaked. Nate touched the collar of his shirt, then moved his hand up the side of his head, over his ear and hair.

Dry.

“I take it he didn’t see you,” Daeng said.

“Almost.”

“You’re clear at the moment if you want to come back.”

“Not yet.”

Though getting out sounded like a great idea, Nate knew he still had to check the other building.

“Where are the guards?” he whispered.

“All three out front,” Daeng reported. “One by the cars, one on the porch, and the last still in front of the other building.”

“Let me know if anybody moves.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Hopefully not something stupid.”

“Copy that.”

Nate headed back to the vines in the field behind the house, and used them to hide his movements as he snuck along the row. Once he was directly behind the outbuilding, he straightened up and moved quietly over to the structure.

The long backside was a flat, plastered surface with no indications there had ever been windows or doors there. Both the right and left side were equally unadorned. As he and Daeng had noted earlier, the only direct way in or out was the door out front.

He worked his way along the far end of the building up to the front corner, crouched down, and used the camera function on his phone to peek around the corner. The closest guard stood fifty feet in front of the outbuilding, his attention focused on the hills.