Wrecking Team Read online

  Reaching behind, the assassin unfastened a bipod. Placed it over the parapet wall and adjusted it. Used a dimmed flashlight to inspect the surface of the roof. It was even. The sniper brought out more equipment and assembled a Barrett M107. Working in the darkness, hands moving surely, slapping the component parts into place to complete the deadliest sniper rifle. Attached a Leupold scope on top of the rifle, placed the weapon on the bipod, knelt and put an eye to the Leupold sight.

  Nikolai’s window jumped into sharp relief.

  Breathe in, breathe out.

  The study’s door had a camera at the top. Chloe shot it out. No sounds from inside. Nikolai’s silhouette showed on their lenses, pacing, apparently unworried by the firefight raging in the mansion.

  He’s got men surrounding the house. The police are a call away. The man in the Kremlin is his ultimate insurance. Why should he be concerned? Zeb smiled grimly as he inspected the door.

  The door was metal, sturdy, and shone under the ceiling lights.

  ‘Water-filled,’ Bear pronounced, after studying it. Impact-resistant. The liquid inside would absorb the force of any shock and made it impervious to many kinds of breaches.

  ‘Stand back,’ Bwana told them.

  They got behind him.

  The problem with doors was that they required hinges, even if they were hidden.

  Bear joined Bwana, and the two shaped and placed explosives at the four corners of the door and down the sides. Eight charges of custom-made explosive that could breach a panic room. Broker and the twins had collaborated with the NSA to develop a new explosive for dealing with thick concrete walls.

  Months of research and trials later, the end result was what Bear and Bwana were working with. A charge that was several times more powerful than C4. An explosive that could direct its force in a concentrated area and that could burn through building materials. Ideal for safe rooms. Perfect for Nikolai’s study.

  The operatives went to the far end of the hallway and placed several explosive packages at the entrance of the passage. Infrared sensors planted just below knee height on the sidewalls.

  The mansion’s heavies would come rushing once the panic room was breached. They would cut through the IR waves, which would complete the circuit, trigger the charges and take them out.

  A simple but extremely effective means to cover their backs once they were inside the study.

  Bwana signaled when they were ready. The operatives looked away when he and Bear triggered the charges at the study door.

  The explosion shook the building. The mansion trembled and something crashed in its cavernous interior. Shouting and cries of alarm reached them.

  They didn’t stop to investigate.

  Zeb darted through the dust and smoke swirling at the breached door, his HK held ready, the rest of the operatives following him.

  Scan left. No hostiles. Check right. No threat.

  The study would be a conference room in most hotels. It was large, wood-paneled, original art lined its walls. Ornate lighting hanging from the ceiling. A set of security screens in one corner showing images from the mansion. A glass cabin at one end that had a desk, several screens on it, a chair that was vacant.

  And Nikolai Khem hunched over his desk, holding his hands to his ears, his eyes widening at their entrance. He lunged for a drawer, fumbling as he brought out a handgun. He dropped it immediately, howling in agony when Zeb shot him in the shoulder.

  Bear and Chloe stood by the shattered door, keeping a watch on their rear, while Bwana and Zeb advanced. The Russian was dressed as if he was going to an evening reception. Razor-sharp creases on his trousers, striped shirt, cufflinks gleaming in the light. Dark hair immaculately parted. Well turned out, except for the red splotch on his shoulder and the grimace on his face.

  His dark eyes were narrowing as he sized up his visitors, calculating, thinking furiously.

  ‘Do you know who I am?’ he asked sternly, in English.

  Zeb didn’t reply. Neither did Bwana.

  ‘You are Zeb Carter?’ Nikolai focused on him.

  Zeb didn’t make a sound.

  ‘You won’t leave this country alive. I have a powerful supporter —’

  ‘Stop,’ Zeb told him.

  Nikolai stopped. He took a few steps back, putting the large desk between him and the oncoming operatives. To his right was a window that looked out.

  Zeb and Bwana were thirty feet away; the study was that large.

  ‘You have a games developer?’ Zeb jerked his head at the glass cubicle.

  ‘Vasily,’ the Russian answered readily, his eyes unfathomable. He didn’t look scared. ‘I killed him. He was of no more use.’

  ‘It was your idea?’

  ‘Da,’ Nikolai sat in his leather-backed chair carefully. It looked like the visitors wanted to talk. ‘I made one mistake.’

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘My plan was to have no American targets.’

  ‘Targets?’

  ‘Da. Killings in America. That would complicate my business. But Kloops, he wanted to kill in your country.’

  Zeb fingered his Glock, wondering why the Russian was confessing so readily.

  His powerful backer. Nikolai still thinks his protector will come to his rescue.

  ‘Why Angie Konstantin?’

  Nikolai shrugged. ‘Random selection. Vasily put in a lot of names. The computer selected hers.’

  ‘What do you think will happen now?’ Bwana asked, fascinated.

  The Russian laughed. ‘You cut my phones off. You killed my guards. You think you are in charge. You are wrong. By now my sponsor knows something. He will send Russian police. Soldiers.’ He looked at an expensive watch on his wrist. ‘Any minute now.’

  ‘He’s lying. Nothing’s happening,’ Broker spoke in their earpieces. He had been following their progress through the bodycams on their suits. ‘Highway’s still jammed. Cops have surrounded the semi. Rog and I are heading to the mansion. We’re monitoring chatter. Lots of talk about terrorist blasts in several parts of the city. Andropov’s buried reports of our attack. You gotta step it up, however. Chopper’s incoming in ten.’

  ‘You made another mistake,’ Zeb told Nikolai.

  ‘No, I only made one —’

  ‘Beth and Meghan,’ Zeb raised his Glock, his face stony, his eyes steel. ‘You put them on your target list. You sent Razor after them.’

  Nikolai stared at him in disbelief and then fear dawned. He had always assumed he was untouchable in his mansion in Russia. Reality was setting in but it was too late.

  Sweat beaded on his forehead. His lips worked. He broke.

  ‘Wait,’ he babbled, ‘I have money. I can pay you. How much —’

  His head exploded.

  Zeb froze, stunned. He hadn’t fired. None of them had.

  ‘DOWN!’ he roared.

  He dived to the floor, rolling to the wall, away from windows, away from the shattered entrance.

  Looked about swiftly when he came to a stop. His friends had taken similar cover. Guns cocked, ready for hostilities.

  No heavies entered the study. No one rappelled through the windows. No shots came their way.

  Chloe caught Zeb’s eye and pointed at something over his shoulder.

  He turned carefully and looked at the shattered window, and then at Nikolai’s body.

  ‘Sniper,’ he mouthed. ‘Outside.’

  His friends nodded.

  He prepared for an explosive burst of speed, out of the study and to the hallway. To test the sniper, check out whether the shooter was hostile or not.

  ‘Relax,’ a voice came over their earpieces. Amused, smiling.

  Another moment of shock, his head rearing up, meeting the startled eyes of his friends. They knew that voice well. The speaker was no threat to them.

  ‘I suspected you were planning something like this. But that shot wasn’t yours to take. I’m sure you understand. Beth is my sister.’

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  ‘Daddy hits Mommy.’

  Meghan froze when she heard the words.

  Beth, who was hurrying out of the kitchen with a plate full of cookies, stumbled.

  The words were spoken by a green-eyed girl, whose blonde hair was neatly styled over her head. She wore a pink dress and matching shoes. Usually her eyes were smiling.

  They were sad now.

  Madison ‘Maddie’ Kittrell, eight years old, was perched on a chair in front of Meghan, the kind that went up or down at the press or pull of a lever.

  She played with it, refused to meet Meghan’s eyes, darted an occasional glance to the sides.

  By her side were Liz McCallum, fourteen years old, and Lizzie’s sister, Zoe, ‘Peaches’ McCallum, ten years old.

  Maddie, Lizzie, and Peaches were tight. They were besties. They were BFFs.

  They’d grown up on the same street near Central Park in New York. They went to the same school.

  Maddie wasn’t from the city originally. She had come to the state when she was small. Her dad had a job in some company. Her mom worked somewhere else.

  Maddie didn’t know all that. She didn’t care.

  She cared that Mommy cried every week. That the sound of Daddy’s blows terrified her.

  Even worse was that Daddy had shouted at her a few times.

  She hadn’t told anyone about the beatings. She carried it in her tiny heart. When she played with Lizzie and Peaches, she forgot everything.

  Gramma, with whom Lizzie and Peaches lived — they didn’t have a daddy and mommy — made the world’s best cookies. Maddie was in heaven when she bit into them.

  One day it became too much for Maddie.

  Her mouth was full of cookie. Her besties were with her. And yet, somehow, the tears started coming.

  Lizzie made a fuss. Peaches made a fuss. Gramma hugged her tight. Gramma smelled so nice that Maddie burst into more tears.

  It came out, finally. She couldn’t hold it in. Mommy had told her not to tell anyone. Daddy told her, too.

  But these were her best friends. They were like family. Better than family.

  She told them of that one time, recently, when Mommy’s shoulder was broken because of Daddy. Mommy had to go to work in a sling. She had to apply makeup to cover the bruises around her eyes.

  It started only a year back, Maddie said through great, gulping sobs. She would lie terrified in her room, hearing Mommy cry. Hearing those horrible smacks.

  Gramma’s face turned serious as she listened. Lizzie went white. Peaches started crying, too. Silent tears. Maddie couldn’t help it. She cried more.

  Something happened in the room that Maddie didn’t understand. Gramma looked at Lizzie. Lizzie looked at Peaches.

  Gramma wiped Maddie’s tears and told her to come the next day. They would go to the park.

  The park was great. Maddie could play for hours in it. She agreed.

  The next day, they set out. Maddie and Peaches skipping ahead. Lizzie talking about something serious with Gramma.

  They played for a couple of hours.

  Then Gramma made Maddie sit on a bench and told her they would go and meet someone.

  Someone who was very dear to them. Someone who had helped them.

  Maddie would have to tell them everything.

  Maddie shook her head. She wouldn’t tell.

  She started crying again.

  Daddy would go to jail. Mommy would cry.

  She didn’t want that.

  She wished she had never told them anything.

  Gramma hugged her again. That nice smell enveloped her again.

  ‘Hush, honey. Nothing bad will happen. We trust them with our lives. They will not tell anyone. Just talk to them.’

  Gramma produced a cookie. Cookies were magic workers. They could unlock tongues and change minds.

  Maddie bit into the cookie and agreed.

  They set out again.

  Peaches told Maddie about the people they were meeting.

  They had an office close by. It was neat. It had a basketball hoop. A baseball bat. Ball gloves. It was better than their school playroom.

  Peaches wanted an office like that when she grew older.

  ‘Who are they?’ Maddie tugged at Peaches’ arm to slow her down.

  ‘Beth and Meghan. Twins. They are our friends. They can do anything. They can find anything.’

  ‘They found Mom’s killer,’ Lizzie added, when she overheard the conversation.

  Maddie’s steps slowed. She didn’t want anything to be found.

  ‘Nothing bad will happen, honey. They are good people. Just tell them everything, like you told us,’ Gramma urged.

  Lizzie nodded. Peaches pressed her hand.

  Maddie agreed reluctantly.

  They carried on. Peaches told her about Beth and Meghan. How wonderful they were.

  There was a man who helped them sometimes. ‘He doesn’t do much,’ Peaches said airily.

  She didn’t know why the twins kept him around.

  They reached the office. It was a tall building. So much glass.

  The guards inside sprang to attention when Peaches entered, along with Maddie, and the rest.

  One of them rushed to an elevator and pressed a button to summon it. Maddie looked around wide-eyed when she entered it. It had gleaming brass and polished wood paneling and smelled so nice.

  Its doors shut silently, and it whooshed up, and opened into an office.

  Maddie stopped.

  It was truly like what Peaches had described.

  Color. So much of it. So warm.

  Orange. Gold. Blue. Couches everywhere.

  Peaches squealed and ran and hugged a woman.

  She was brown-haired. Green-eyed. She whirled Peaches around and set her down.

  Another woman came. She, too, was brown-haired and green-eyed.

  Maddie was shy; however, Peaches pulled her by the arm and introduced her.

  ‘My best friend,’ she introduced Maddie.

  The first woman bent and shook her hand gravely. ‘Beth Petersen, ma’am.’

  Maddie giggled. No one called her ma’am.

  The other woman shook her hand. ‘I’m Meghan.’

  ‘Want some cookies?’ Beth asked.

  Lizzie and Maddie nodded their heads simultaneously. No one refused cookies.

  Meghan looked behind Maddie.

  Maddie turned around.

  A brown-haired man was bringing more chairs.

  ‘He’s the helper,’ Peaches whispered.

  Maddie looked at him, then at Lizzie. Lizzie’s face had turned red. Gramma seemed to be smiling.

  Peaches didn’t care. She bit into the cookies Beth brought. Maddie followed suit.

  They were delicious. As good as the ones Gramma made.

  Maddie didn’t know it, but Gramma sent a batch over to the twins whenever she baked.

  The cookies disappeared as if by magic, and when Beth returned after refilling the plate, Peaches nudged Maddie.

  Maddie didn’t say anything. Peaches nudged her harder.

  ‘They are friends. You can tell them anything.’

  Maddie nodded. Tears were in her eyes.

  ‘Daddy hits Mommy.’

  Author’s Message

  Thank you for taking the time to read Wrecking Team. If you enjoyed it, please consider telling your friends and posting a short review.

  Sign up to Ty Patterson’s mailing list, and get The Watcher, a Zeb Carter novella, exclusive to newsletter subscribers. Join Ty Patterson’s Facebook group of readers, here

  Check out Ty on Amazon

  Books by Ty Patterson:

  Gemini Series

  Dividing Zero, Gemini Series, Book 1

  Defending Cain, Gemini Series, Book 2
/>   I AM Missing, Gemini Series, Book 3

  Wrecking Team, Gemini Series, Book 4

  Warriors Series

  The Warrior, Warriors series, Book 1

  The Reluctant Warrior, Warriors series, Book 2

  The Warrior Code, Warriors series, Book 3

  The Warrior’s Debt, Warriors series, Book 4

  Warriors series Boxset, Books 1-4

  Flay, Warriors series, Book 5

  Behind You, Warriors series, Book 6

  Hunting You, Warriors series, Book 7

  Zero, Warriors series, Book 8

  Warriors series Boxset II, Books 5-8

  Warriors series Boxset III, Books 1-8

  Death Club, Warriors series, Book 9

  Trigger Break, Warriors series, Book 10

  Scorched Earth, Warriors series, Book 11

  RUN! Warriors series, Book 12

  Zeb Carter Series

  Zeb Carter, Book 1

  Cade Stryker Series

  The Last Gunfighter of Space, Book 1

  The Thief Who Stole A Planet, Book 2

  Warriors Series Shorts

  This is a series of novellas that link to the Warriors Series thrillers

  Zulu Hour, Warriors Series Shorts, Book 1

  The Shadow, Warriors Series Shorts, Book 2

  The Man From Congo, Warriors Series Shorts, Book 3

  The Texan, Warriors Series Shorts, Book 4

  The Heavies, Warriors Series Shorts, Book 5

  The Cab Driver, Warriors Series Shorts, Book 6

  Sign up to Ty Patterson’s mailing list, and get The Watcher, a Zeb Carter novella, exclusive to newsletter subscribers. Join Ty Patterson’s Facebook group of readers, here

  Check out Ty on Amazon and on his website Ty Patterson

  About the Author

  Ty has been a trench digger, loose tea vendor, leather goods salesman, marine lubricants salesman, diesel engine mechanic, and is now an action thriller author.