Black Ops Vietnam 4.Cruel Hunters by Eric Meyer

Author:Eric Meyer [Eric Meyer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Swordworks
Published: 2021-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Melvin shouted in horror. “Paul, what the hell! The guy was just doing his job.”

He lowered the gun, and realization seared through his brain. He’d been thinking about Cassie, so creased up with worry, he’d blinded himself to reality. Tran insisted he was loyal, and Melvin felt inclined to believe him. With a long white beard and red suit, the fat cop could’ve run a side hustle as a department store Santa Claus over the Christmas period. Provided you ignored the slant eyes.

He glanced at Farrell. “We have all we need, but we don’t need to kill him.”

“We don’t have it all. The weapons, where would they store them?”

The man was puzzled by the question, and he was no part of it. He thought hard, believing his life depended on it, and finally, he had an idea.

“There is an abandoned police barracks outside the city. It is lightly guarded, and they use it to store surplus equipment. The barracks has an underground room, intended to maintain command and control should the North attack the city. That is all I can think of.”

Melvin nodded and looked at Farrell. “We can gag him and tie him up. Enough to hold him until it’s time to leave. He’s okay. We should let him live.”

He nodded; relieved he’d interrupted the mad impulse to kill. Working for Phoenix was like a disease, eating away into a man’s psyche, into whatever principles he’d lived by since childhood until it became second nature.

He shook his head to clear it.

Damn, that was a close-run thing. For me and the cop.

They bound and gagged the prisoner, smashed his radio, and told him they’d let him live. Provided he didn’t attempt to escape until he heard the shooting. By then, raising the alarm wouldn’t make any difference. He nodded his agreement, his eyes attempting to convey his gratitude for not killing him. Farrell felt like a heel, but he nodded to Melvin.

“We got what we wanted. We need to rendezvous with Smith and Baker.” He checked his watch, “It’s 17.20. We have forty minutes, so we may as well scout around the city.”

They walked outside, and nothing had changed. The disappearance of two beat cops hadn’t caused a single ripple to interrupt the life of the city, and people walked up and down the street like normal. He suggested they stroll past the cop station to get a second look of what they’d be up against, and they reached it with fifteen minutes to spare. Once again, nothing had changed, the local law enforcement had yet to have any indication the Phoenix Team was in the city. And the sky was about to fall in on them, or at least, the roof of the building.

They walked past, and he happened to glance up when he saw movement on the roof of the single-story building. A big man, Bo Baker, was kneeling down, busy with something. He didn’t need binoculars to work out what it was. He was planting the explosives, and Farrell thought back to what’d happened at the brothel when it blew up.

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