"Delta Lead, maintain eyes on elevator. I'll be returning to the exit corridor."
"Copy."
"Kilo Two, five seconds."
Dressed in a white dress shirt, nice slacks, and wing tips, it looked like this guy could buy any car in this room. Lots of gold adorned his fingers and neck. Latino and slightly overweight, he appeared to be in his mid-fifties. He didn't look formidable, but looks could be deceiving. Nathan saw an expensive watch and a wedding ring. Does your wife know where you are?
The man looked at the cars as he walked. Nathan couldn't blame him, it was hard not to.
Bravo Three reached for the knob and, without hesitating, stepped into the corridor.
Nathan heard an inhalation, a rustle of clothes, then a grunt of pain.
Harv's low voice came next. "We aren't going to hurt you if you cooperate. Please nod your head if you understand what I just said." They'd once made a mistake in a situation nearly identical to this one. They'd captured a man who hadn't spoken a word of English. Assumption tended to be the mother of all screw-ups.
Nathan walked at a medium pace toward the door as Harv wasted no time questioning their captive.
"Were you planning to leave or come back?"
"Who are you?" the man asked. "Do you know who owns this place?"
Halfway to the exit door, Nathan heard a louder grunt.
"We're asking the questions. You have three seconds before I dislocate your shoulder. Answering my questions will be much more difficult after that."
"My car! I'm just going out to my car."
Nathan entered the exit corridor and left the door partially open.
Upon seeing Nathan's sheer size and bulk, the man's mouth dropped slightly, but he recovered.
"Why were you going out to your car?" Harv asked.
"Cubans, I forgot the Cubans."
"Cigars."
"Good ones. You can have 'em."
"So if we escorted you out there, we'd find cigars?"
"Yeah, man, I swear."
"What was in your briefcase?"
The man closed his mouth.
"We saw you carry it in here. What was in it?" Harv asked again.
Again, the man didn't answer.
"Torque his shoulder out of the socket," Nathan said. "Not too rough, we don't want him passing out."
Keeping the guy's arm pinned behind his back, Harv began applying upward pressure.
The man's face contorted. "Wait! It's cash. We all bring cash for the game."
"What game?"
"Texas hold 'em."
"Is Tomas Bustamonte up there?"
"You mean Mr. B? I didn't know his first name. Everyone just calls him Mr. B. He got a call and had to leave the table."
"How long ago did he get the call?"
"I don't know, maybe a minute ago. He asked me to get the Cubans but I had to take a leak first."
"You said you forgot them."
"I did, I mean, he wanted to get them after the hand-"
Nathan's earpiece came to life. "Okay, okay. Now, shut up. Repeat, Delta Lead."
"We've got activity. Two SUVs just turned into the east alley from Olympic and the elevator's on the move, it's going up."
"What are the SUVs doing? Are they stopping?"
"Affirmative . . . Six armed men just got out and they're heading for the door. You're blown."
"You two, take cover behind the cars. Close the door behind you."
"Nate-"
"Go!" Nathan said. He belted the gambler's jaw, instantly dropping the guy. Two seconds later, he heard the keypunch being stabbed as Harv and LG disappeared into the showroom. Leaving the unconscious man in the hall, he ducked into the pitch-black bathroom as the door to the alley swung open.
CHAPTER 16.
Had he been fast enough? He wasn't sure. He wanted to close and lock the door, but it was too late. He lowered his safety goggles to his neck, pivoted his NV scope down in front of his eye, and powered it.
"Delta Lead, report," he whispered.
"The first gunman is looking through the door. He just gestured for two of the men to circle the building in opposite directions. They're in motion. The first of two gunmen is now entering the corridor; the other two are waiting in the alley. They're carrying suppressed Mac-10s with fifty-round mags or better."
"Do they have night vision?"
"Negative."
"Going silent."
His radio clicked.
Harv's going to kill me for doing this, he thought. If I live through it . . .
He listened for sound but heard nothing except Harv and Linda working out their positioning in the showroom.
Nathan's mind kicked into high gear. He possessed an uncanny ability to size up tactical situations. Within two seconds, he'd weighed the positives and negatives.
Negatives: These newcomers weren't loud and sloppy. They possessed formidable firepower. He was outnumbered four to one. And he was effectively trapped inside a small room with no exit.
Positives: He had night vision. They didn't know he was in this room-and they'd never expect anyone to be stupid enough to trap himself in a small room with no exit. They'd also be momentarily distracted by the unconscious man in the hall, and they'd be confined in a tight, narrow space.
No problem. He owned this.
He heard slow, steady footfalls, then a door being opened. His night-vision scope automatically dimmed at the sudden surge of light as the gunman flipped the switch inside the janitor's closet. A second later, the light winked out.
His door would be next.
He needed an update from Delta Lead but didn't want to risk being overheard, even whispering. Come on, Harv. Now would be a good time.
Right on cue, Harv's voice came through his ear speaker. "Delta Lead, report."
Nathan cranked the radio's volume to its lowest setting.
"Two have entered the corridor, two have circled the building in opposite directions, and the other two are watching the door from the cover of their SUVs."
Nathan knew he was facing two immediate threats rather than four. He liked those odds a lot better, and it changed how he'd deal with it. Waiting like a trapdoor spider, he watched the bathroom door for movement.
His wait wasn't long.
In slow motion, it began easing toward his face.
Harvey didn't like leaving Nathan behind but didn't question his orders.
Dividing their forces held some risk, but at times like this, his trust in Nate's tactical decisions was absolute. Inside the showroom, he told LG to go right while he went left, toward the elevator.
Playing a hunch, he had LG relocate to a position directly in front of the door so she could fire down the length of the corridor. He knew Nate had copied his transmission. "Kilo One, confirm you're in the bathroom."
Harvey heard Nate's click.
He'd listened to the radio traffic between Delta Lead and Nate and knew he needed to become Nate's voice. "Delta Lead, report."
The answer confirmed what he suspected. Two of the gunmen remained outside in the alley.
"The elevator's going up."
"Copy, Delta Lead. Kilo Three, stay here and cover the exit corridor. I'm relocating to a position closer to the elevator."
The third-floor light was now illuminated. It wouldn't be long before the elevator started back down.
Delta Lead hadn't reported seeing anyone enter the building prior to the briefcase crew, but Harvey knew there was at least one additional man in the building-the guy who'd accepted the pizzas. Regardless, this situation smelled like a trap. It was entirely possible someone in Bustamonte's employ had seen the three of them move across the neighboring building's roof and descend into the alley. Cantrell didn't have the resources to put eyes on the entire neighborhood, especially on such short notice.
None of that mattered right now. His job was to cover Nate's blind side, basically everything inside this showroom.
He hurried toward the elevator, weaving his way through the maze of automobiles. He'd made it about halfway when Delta Lead gave them another update.
One of the gunmen who'd separated from the group would soon be in a position where he could see inside the showroom from Olympic. The other gunman who'd circled the building in the opposite direction had a substantially longer distance to cover before he'd reach the main entrance on the west side.
He whispered to LG, "We're in a shoot-to-kill situation unless it's one of the twins. No wounding shots. Copy?"
"Loud and clear."
"Do you have eyes on the Olympic gunman yet?"
"Negative."
"From this point on, stay low and remain focused on the exit corridor."
"I'm on it."
"Delta Lead, you're our eyes on the Olympic gunman."
"We've got him. Ten seconds."
Harvey watched the lights above the elevator change from three to two.
He pictured Nate alone in that pitch-black corridor, facing multiple gunmen armed with some of the most proven machine pistols ever made. Harv knew the Mac-10 well; he had one in his private collection.
Number two went dark.
Number one illuminated.
With a telling chime, the elevator announced its arrival.
Nathan watched the door move toward him. There was something menacing about a slowly moving door with an enemy combatant behind it.
He flipped his mental switch, severing all doubt.
Bullets were going to fly.
People were going to die.