Hunter Killer (Pike Logan) by Brad Taylor

Author:Brad Taylor [Taylor, Brad]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: William Morrow
Published: 2020-01-07T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 39

Seacrest took a right on the adjacent road from the safe house, driving with only his parking lights. He wanted to get close, but not close enough to trigger a response. He said, “We need to approach the house from the rear, but it backs up into the Fort Moultrie park, so we can’t get there in a car.”

Wolffe said, “What are you thinking?”

“Stop one road over, walk into the park, and hit the place, hard.”

“We get in a gunfight here, it’s going to be messy. We have no cover here in Charleston. No embassy to run to.”

Seacrest looked at him and said, “Messy is better than the alternative.”

Wolffe pulled back the charging handle on his H&K and said, “I’m with you.”

Seacrest pulled the car over next to a squat brick house on a narrow blacktop road, trees surrounding the residences built in the seventies. He said, “This is it. The target is one road up. We’ll swing around the Intracoastal Waterway. There’s a dock at the end of the park. The target house has two breaches: the front door and a sliding glass door off of the kitchen, facing the park. We’ll circle around it, I’ll breach the glass door with a rock or brick or whatever I find, and we assault. You good with that?”

Wolffe said, “Good running around Charleston with an assault rifle looking for a gunfight? Yeah. Beats talking to the Oversight Council, even when we get arrested.”

Seacrest laughed in spite of himself, saying, “Pike picked this house because of the location. They’re all rentals around it, and all of them are vacant. We could probably set the damn thing on fire and nobody would notice for hours.”

Wolffe nodded and said, “Let’s get it on.”

They exited the car in a rush, the street black, no lighting at all. They circled around a one-story ranch, reaching a backyard that butted up against the Intracoastal Waterway behind Sullivan’s Island. Seacrest began jogging, dodging yard ornaments and jumping over fencing. They reached a large concrete dock, a wide open expanse of grass to their left.

Seacrest veered into the green, seeing light spill out from a lone house at the end of a street. He took a knee, saying, “That’s it. The door is on the east end.”

Wolffe squatted down next to him, saying, “We only have a two-man assault. Need to dominate quickly. If we give them time to mass, we’ll lose. We need to kill them one at a time.”

Seacrest nodded, and they advanced more slowly, eyes bouncing left and right, barrels forward, looking for a threat. They reached the yard surrounding the house, a small four-foot picket fence marking the territory.

The sliding glass door was open, a sheer curtain flapping in the breeze from the wind. Just inside the door was Kylie, sitting in a chair sideways to them. To her left was a man with a weapon, leaning against a wall.

Seacrest whispered, “We’re outside the ring of light. You get close, right up against the wall.

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