Brad Taylor - The Polaris Protocol

I tensed, getting ready for a fight, aggravated that I’d trusted the Taskforce analysts on the guard force outside the compound. He pointed again and hissed a word.

What the hell is he saying? “Fighter”?

I got sick of the dance and slid over to his position, keeping my voice low. “What is it? A guard?”

He whispered back, “No. A tiger.”

“A what?”

“A fucking tiger. Blood says there’s a tiger up there.”

I shook my head, trying to figure out what that meant. Blood was a former Recon Marine but had spent most of his time with the CIA in the Special Activities Division. I wracked my brain for some code word that we didn’t use in the Army but that he might have used as a Marine or paramilitary officer in the CIA.

And came up dry.

I slid through the foliage toward him, moving as slowly as I could. I reached his position and leaned into his ear. “What’s up?”

From a knee, he pointed forward, and sure as shit there was a Bengal tiger staring at us about ten feet away, its tail twitching and its mouth open and huffing.

My first thought was How many others are in this little zoo? but I didn’t get to dwell on it long, because the cat darted right at us. We both leapt up, our Glocks spitting rounds, and it kept coming.

Heedless of the noise, the entire team crashed backward, everyone now firing at the wraith coming through the jungle. I could see the bullets hitting its side, the forty-five slugs pummeling the body. The cat leapt in the air right at Decoy, hitting him in the chest and knocking him to the ground. Decoy jammed his barrel into its mouth and pumped two rounds, ending the fight. He kicked the beast off and stood, breathing hard.

He whispered, “Never get outta the boat.”

On a knee, we all began chuckling silently, except for Jennifer, who didn’t get the immortal line from Apocalypse Now. I whispered back, “That explains the lack of a guard force here.”

We waited in silence for an additional five minutes, checking to see if there would be a reaction from the house. I knew they couldn’t hear the suppressed weapons from this distance but wasn’t sure about the noise we’d made thrashing through the brush. When nothing appeared, I signaled Blood to continue.

We made it to the edge of the pool area without incident, keeping inside the vegetation, and Knuckles and I left the team, moving forward on our bellies for a view.

A giant wall of glass fronted the pool, and inside an ornate den I could see a man with a beard watching a wide-screen TV. I scanned the room and saw a door to the left, cracked open, which, being the only intel we were going to get, would be the first room we cleared after breach. To the right the glass wall continued on to a small gazebo, complete with a gigantic barbecue grill set into another expanse of brick and an outdoor fireplace.

How do they use all this stuff with a damn tiger roaming around? I figured there was a cage for it somewhere in the jungle and let it go.

I scanned to the left of the glass and saw a large wooden door. Breach point. I looked at Knuckles and he nodded. I pulled back into the foliage, getting the team in close.

“There’s a breach to the left of the glass. Knuckles, you got it. Blood, you’re his backup. Remember, quiet as a mouse on the lock. Inside the house I can see one room with an open door. It’s on the left, and our first interior breach. I’ll take lead toward it.”

I turned to Jennifer. “There’s a man in the den sitting on a couch. That’s your target. You enter first and go right. You’ll see him. We’re coming in right behind and going left toward the door.”

She said, “I’m first in?”

“Yeah. He needs to be dealt with immediately, but I need all the rest of my guys to enter the room. I have no idea how big it is or what’s inside. Once he’s down, fall back to us. Pull security on the door we enter.”

She didn’t speak and I said, “You good with this?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good with it. Just didn’t think I’d be first.”

Knuckles winked at her, and I saw a little smile slip out before she began checking her weapon. I said, “Any questions?”

Nobody uttered a word. I tapped Knuckles on the shoulder, and the plan was in motion.

38

Knuckles slithered around the pool on his belly, staying in the foliage, Blood following close behind. I saw Blood take a low knee, his pistol on the door, then Knuckles duck-walked forward the last few meters. He tried the knob, then turned and waved his hand in front of his face in a deliberate motion, like a director signaling “cut.”

Unlocked. Perfect.

He stayed put, keeping the movement down, and we all collapsed in on Blood’s position. I got a thumbs-up from the people around me, then pointed at Jennifer. I could tell the adrenaline was flowing, but her hands were steady. She inhaled and exhaled, then nodded.

I pointed at Knuckles, and we rose, running to the door in a crouch. Two feet from it, he pulled the latch down and swung it open, letting us flow into the target like hornets looking for a victim.

Jennifer entered and jerked right, out of my sight. I spent no time on the target in the den, trusting her to eliminate the threat, running straight to my breach, knowing I had four other men doing the same. I heard the spitting of her Glock and kicked the door inward, leading with my weapon. I saw a man behind a huge desk working a computer, the fat cigar in his mouth spilling to the floor at my entrance. He lurched forward toward a pistol, and I drilled him in the forehead.

The room wasn’t that large and was secure in a half second, before Jennifer even made it to us. We bounded back into the den and began clearing, racing silently through the large expanse, checking nooks and crannies. We reached the end of the den, which choked into a hallway that stretched away, deeper into the house. To my front I could see a stairwell leading up, with a door immediately on my left.

I let the stack catch up, waited for the tap on my shoulder, then swung open the door. I almost bounded into it before I realized it was another stairwell, this one going down. And it stank.

The holding cell.

I said, “Jennifer, stay up here. Cover our back.”

She nodded, and we began bounding down the stairwell, one man covering while the other moved. Two-thirds of the way and the stairwell took a right-angle turn. Blood held up, putting his barrel around the turn for cover, and Decoy rounded the corner. We each took turns covering as the next man went, a dangerous game of tag.

By the time I had reached the bottom, someone had found a light switch, and I saw three men staring at me with a mixture of fear and hope, unsure where to place their trust. They were looking a little worse for wear, to put it mildly.

But no Jack Cahill.

All three were Latino. None were Caucasian. I held a finger to my lips, then heard Jennifer’s Glock snap, followed by a fusillade of rounds from an unsuppressed weapon.

Oops. They know we’re here.

We raced to the stairs, turning the corner and seeing Jennifer at the top firing controlled pairs and ducking back. Knuckles looked at me with a smug grin and I said, “Yeah, yeah. Good idea to bring Jennifer.”

If we hadn’t left her at the top, we would have been as badly trapped as the captives themselves, with no way to get up the stairs. A grandpa with a .22 could have prevented movement out.

We reached the top, staying in the protection of the stairwell, and Jennifer said, “Three guys came down the stairs. Two are still in the stairwell, one is dead.”

I leaned out and saw a body on the floor, about twenty meters away. I said, “Jennifer, suppress the stairwell. Blood, Decoy, get to the other side of the hall, back into the den.”