The Enraged (A Jonathan Quinn Novel) (10 page)

“Get here as quick as possible. I’ll call you after we find a way out.”

As he hung up, Misty stepped out of her room.

“Come on. Downstairs,” he said. “Make sure to stay away from the windows.”

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Quinn paused and whispered, “Daeng? Where are you?”

Daeng’s voice came from down the hallway to the right. “Kitchen.”

Quinn motioned for Misty to copy him as he crouched down and crept into the hall. They found Daeng kneeling next to the cabinets by the sink.

“Where?” Quinn asked.

Daeng nodded up at the window above them. “Straight out there’s a hedge and some kind of shed. One guy’s there, around the back.” He twisted around. “If you look out the window by the front door, you’ll see a minivan parked across the street. Last time I checked another guy was peeking around it.” He pointed left, then right. “The other two are a little harder to see. No direct view. But there’s a window in the living room that if you lean far enough over, you’ll see a couple of bushes about twenty feet from the house. A guy’s in there. The one on the left, as far as I can tell, is pressed right up against the building.”

“So still just the four.”

“Yeah.”

“Just like earlier.”

“Was thinking the same thing.”

Whether or not it was the same team as the one at Peter’s apartment, Quinn figured the men’s abilities would be comparable.

“Okay,” he whispered. “This is what we’re going to do.”

__________

W
ITTEN DIDN’T LIKE
it. The house was too quiet. Sure, it was after midnight, but there was a sense of stillness about it that he only picked up when a place was dangerous or deserted. Either way, it was a problem.

The fugitives—two men and a woman whose identities had yet to be determined—were supposedly holed up inside. How the powers that be at O & O had learned this, he didn’t know. It wasn’t his job. He was only here to make the problem go away.

“Dead or alive?” he’d asked when he’d been briefed twenty-five minutes earlier.

“I’m told alive, if possible, but we don’t need all three,” the woman acting as Terminal Eight that evening had said. “One will suffice.”

Witten had also been told about what had happened the previous afternoon, and was determined that Team Five would not achieve the same less-than-stellar results. Maybe that was why his senses felt more heightened than usual.

“Check,” he whispered.

Each member of his team was outfitted with a tiny comm radio—a receiver that fit snugly in the ear, and extending from it, a one-inch microphone that floated above the cheek.

“South, clear,” Suggs said.

Johnson was next. “West, clear.”

And finally, Brown. “North, clear.”

Deserted? Or dangerous?
Witten wondered again as he scanned the front of the house. Unfortunately, there was only one way to find out.

“All positions, move in,” he ordered.

__________

Q
UINN COULD FEEL
Misty tense as they heard a floorboard creak. He touched her arm and gave it a quick squeeze.

Another creak, closer to the door this time.

It wouldn’t be long now.

__________

T
HERE HAD BEEN
no need to pick the locks to get inside. The home in Arlington Ridge was a safe house known to O & O. Terminal Eight had simply supplied the entry codes to Witten, who had then passed them on to his team.

Suggs used the rear-door code to enter through the kitchen, while Witten utilized the one for the front door. Per earlier instructions, Johnson and Brown remained outside to secure the perimeter.

Witten stepped over the threshold into an unadorned entryway. His night vision goggles firmly in place, he could see he was alone. The short foyer led into the main part of the house, where he found a living room, dining area, kitchen, and Suggs.

Using well-practiced hand signals, he learned that Suggs had also spotted no one. Together they moved over to the carpeted stairway leading up to a second floor. Witten went up first. When he reached the top, he paused and listened. Given the hour, if the house was occupied, chances were the trespassers would be asleep, and Witten and Suggs would be able to contain them without a struggle.

There were five doors in the hallway—four to the left and one to the right. Witten ordered Suggs right, and he went left. The first room he came to was a bedroom with two sets of bunk beds. All the mattresses were bare—no sheets, no blankets. The next door opened into a bathroom that had several unused towels piled on the counter.

Before he could get to door number three, Suggs crept up behind him. With a shake of his head, Suggs let Witten know the room to the right was unoccupied.

Together, they moved to the next doorway. More bunks, only this time, sheets and a blanket rested on the bottom mattress of the bunk against the far wall. The bedding was in a tangle, as if the covers had been pushed away in a hurry.

Witten scanned the room before walking over to the mattress and putting his hand on the sheets. Even though the house was not particularly cool, he could tell right away the sheets were warmer than ambient temperature. Someone had been lying there—what, ten minutes earlier? Fifteen? No more than that.

He and Suggs retreated back to the hallway and approached the final door. Once more there were two sets of bunks, and like the room they’d just left, one of the mattresses had been used in the last half hour.

So where were the targets? And why were only two beds used and not three? Had they split up? Were these even the right people?

Witten didn’t like questions. Questions made jobs messy. And messy was never good.

They rechecked each of the rooms, making sure to examine every potential hiding place. In the closet of the master bedroom, they found a narrow trapdoor that opened into an attic.

Witten grimaced. Limited-access attics were a bitch. Push it open, stick your head in, and
bang
, bullet to the face. That was not a risk he was interested in taking.

He examined the trapdoor. There were two sliding locks screwed into the wood at one end. Both were open so he slid them into locked position, and pushed gently up on the hatch. It didn’t move. If anyone had gone into the attic, the person was not getting out without making a lot of noise.

Satisfied, he and Suggs headed back downstairs, to the only place left they hadn’t checked. The basement.

It was accessed via a rough set of wooden steps leading down from a doorway in the kitchen. From the top of the stairs, Witten could see the room below was unfinished—grimy concrete walls surrounding an even dirtier concrete floor. The partial view also revealed a few boxes piled here and there, but to see the full basement he would have to go down. He didn’t need to be stupid about it, though.

Leaving Suggs to keep an eye on things, Witten left the house and hustled down the street to where their car was parked. Digging through the equipment kit in the trunk, he quickly found what he was looking for and hurried back.

When he walked into the kitchen again, Suggs signaled that all was still quiet. Witten set the plastic case he’d brought with him on the counter and opened it. Inside was a mirror mounted on a pivot head, and an expandable rod that could be attached to it. Once he had it assembled, he carried it over to the doorway and knelt down.

Witten twisted the mirror back and forth, scanning the room, and established there were no visible threats. That, of course, was not a guarantee the basement was safe, which was why, before descending, he gave the mirror to Suggs so his partner could monitor as he went down.

He had expected the stairs to groan with each step, but they made little noise as he moved into the belly of the house. As soon as his eyes cleared the ceiling line, he paused and took a look around, the barrel of his gun tracking his gaze. There were a few more boxes, several empty shelving units, and directly across from the stairway, a hall leading away into the dark. If anyone was down here, that’s where he or she would be.

He signaled Suggs to remain where he was, and then moved quietly across the room into the hallway.

__________

T
HE EASY OUT
was the only reason they were in the basement. If not for that, descending to the lowest level of the house would have been suicide, with the only escape being through the door in the kitchen at the top of the stairs.

Quinn had discovered the easy out when he’d done a check through the house after he  arrived. It was located in the back room down the dark basement hallway. This particular easy out came in the form of a ground-level window located high on the wall, facing the backyard. While it looked like it was fixed in place, the entire thing could be removed in a matter of seconds via a concealed release lever built into the frame.

An escape route. An easy out.

“Maybe they left,” Misty said.

The creaking boards above their heads had fallen silent a few minutes earlier.

“No,” Quinn said. “They’re just checking the bedrooms.” He gave her a reassuring squeeze on the arm. “It’s going to be fine. Don’t worry.”

“Right. Don’t worry.”

His words had at least gotten a smirk out of her.

He stepped over to the window and peeked outside. The dark backyard looked as empty as it had the last time he checked, but he knew two men, if not more, were lurking out there somewhere. All the men needed to be drawn into the house before Quinn pulled the release lever, otherwise he and Daeng and Misty would be picked off as they crossed the yard.

The floor above began creaking again.

Quinn moved in front of Misty and looked her in the eyes. “I need you to do exactly what I tell you, okay?” he whispered.

She nodded.

“Good.” Placing a hand on her back, he guided her to the front corner of the room. “Tuck yourself in tight right here. You’ll be out of sight if the door opens.”

Once she was set, he headed toward the corner he would occupy, but stopped before he could get there and cocked his head. Upstairs, someone was moving quickly through the house. This was followed by the unmistakable sound of the front door opening.

Were they leaving?

Quinn exchanged a cautious look with Daeng, but avoided Misty’s gaze so as not to get her hopes up.

Quiet descended for several minutes.

He was just starting to consider that maybe the men
had
left, when he heard the front door open again, and the floor once more groaned under the weight of one of the intruders.

So be it
, Quinn thought. Quinn moved into position, his plan to draw everyone inside still in play.

Less than sixty seconds later came the sound he’d been waiting to hear—the subtle whine of the basement door swinging open.

Daeng moved to a spot in direct view of the room’s doorway, and arranged himself on the floor as if he had fallen there.

Quinn looked him over, and nodded his approval.

They were ready.

__________

T
HERE WERE THREE
rooms along the hall, each with its door closed. Witten stopped at the nearest, and slowly turned the handle. Once the latch was released, he flung the door open and took a step back, his gun held out in front of him.

Nothing.

Only dirt and cracked concrete.

The second room was much the same.

He turned to the final door. If no one was behind this, the house was empty, and whoever had been sleeping upstairs had left before Team Five arrived.

Like he’d done with the others, he turned the knob and pushed the door open.

Immediately he saw this room was different. Lying on the ground a few feet inside was a body.

He stepped forward, stopping short of the threshold.

Male, by the looks of it, but that was about all he could make out. The body was on its stomach with its face turned away.

Who the hell was this?

He scanned the room, able to see everywhere except the space to either side of the door. No one. Only the body.

He was deciding on whether he should look right or left first as he moved inside, when the man on the ground groaned.

Gun extended, Witten stepped into the room. “Don’t move.”

__________

D
AENG PLAYED HIS
part perfectly. A second after he groaned, a man holding a gun moved through the doorway.

As the man said, “Don’t move,” Quinn leapt toward him, his hand aiming straight for the comm gear mounted in the man’s ear. Quinn was three feet away when the guy sensed him and started to whirl around, but their unwanted guest was too late. Quinn snatched the radio away with his right, and landed a hook to the guy’s jaw with his left.

The man staggered with the punch, but kept on his feet. He opened his mouth to yell. What he hadn’t noticed was that Daeng was no longer lying on the ground, and had moved in behind him. Before the scream even began, Daeng whipped his jacket around the man’s head, covering the intruder’s mouth, and pulled it tight.

At the same time, Quinn grabbed the gun and wrenched it from the man’s grasp, then tore the night vision goggles off the guy’s face.

“Down,” Quinn whispered to Daeng.

Keeping the jacket tight around the man’s face, Daeng shoved him to the floor.

Quinn knelt in front of the intruder. “You cooperate, and we won’t have a problem. Nod if you understand.”

Nothing for a moment, only rapid blinking as the man adjusted to the darkness. Then a nod.

“Good,” Quinn said. He rose, intending to put the radio in his ear, and shout in a garbled voice that he heard someone running through the first floor toward the stairs, followed by a quick order for everyone to converge. That’s when they’d make their escape. But the radio was not in his hand anymore.

As he started to look around, the captive spoke through his gag. Not a yell, but a single word.

Daeng looked at Quinn. “Did he say what I think he said?”