Page 74 of Lash

It's Mercado.

"I am not sure yet, sir," Antonio says. "Flashbangs at the south wall but no contact. Patrols are unresponsive. I'm getting reports of a breach at the gate. I am on the way there to assess."

"I want every available man inside the residence, NOW," Mercado snaps. "Call in for backups from the village, ASAP." The last word is pronounced in English, military-style—AY-sap.

"Yes sir, right away," Antonio says.

"They're calling all units inside the residence," I say across our line. "Mercado is here, he's pissed, and he's calling for reinforcements. We are officially on the clock. We are fucked if we are not gone by the time the reinforcements arrive."

"We're gonna have to fight our way in and out," Saxon says. "Shit's about to get hot."

"Lash, Ren, Scarla—you're point," Solomon says. "We stick together for now."

"Copy," Lorenzo and Scarlett answer, once again in near unison.

We're passing through the courtyard in a tight double-file line. Now that Scarlett and Tatiana have stopped throwing flashbangs, the compound is oddly silent once more.

I feel a hand on my shoulder—Scarlett. Lorenzo moves into position on the other side of Scarlett, and the others readjust the formation into an inverted wedge, with Tatiana at the back.

"Tatiana is staying with us," Scarlett says. "It's too risky for her to wait at the gate alone."

"Copy," I mutter. “Moving."

We surge forward through the courtyard, making no contact. The main house is a massive, distant shadow, three sprawling floors with an east and west wing framing the center. A mile-long, ruler-straight driveway runs from the courtyard to the gate flanked on both sides by towering trees. Off to the west, half a mile distant, is the moonlit silhouette of a huge stable.

Panting from the mile run, we pause at the base of the steps, staring up at the monstrous house. Built of white marble and roofed in scalloped slate tiles, the house is ornate, with Ionic columns holding up the portico over the front porch, which doubles as a balcony overlooking the compound. The grass island at the center of the circle drive is an ornate marble fountain—a reproduction of something from Roman antiquity, most likely. A trio of glossy black Range Rovers are parked in a line in front of the house, and sixty or seventy meters to the east of the house, perched on the wide rolling lawn like a hungry insect, is a Soviet gunship helicopter.

"Kane," Solomon says across the line, "take out the helo. In fact, you and Silas take out the Suburbans back by the gate. Except one, if you can find keys, so we can make a getaway."

“He'll have them tracked," Kane says.

"I can find the tracker and get rid of it," Silas says. “Not a problem."

"Go," Solomon says.

The walls encircling the compound must encompass several miles of perimeter to enclose this much area; it’s easily a mile from wall to wall east to west and roughly the same north to south. The hacienda sits in the middle of the compound toward the south wall, on a slight rise.

Figures move in the beams of headlights over near the stable—more hands hurrying to obey Mercado's call to defend him at the main house.

"Contact west," I say. "Targets mobilizing at the barn."

"Copy," Solomon says. "Saxon, Chance—they've only got one route here. Take them out."

"Copy," they both say.

A huge explosion rocks us, and we watch as the gunship bursts into flames. Seconds later, a much larger, brighter blast follows as the fuel ignites.

Without a word, we all break into a run—that explosion will have gotten Mercado's attention for sure. We reach the line of Range Rovers and take cover behind them, pausing a moment to catch our breath.

Tatiana is behind Scarlett on my right, holding her pistol in both hands barrel skyward, finger outside the trigger guard, panting and looking scared but calm.

Solomon gives the signal to move, and Scarlett taps Tatiana on the shoulder and repeats the signal; Tatiana nods and follows as we slip around the SUVs and head for the front door.

"Assume contact on the other side of the door," Solomon says. "Rev, kick it in."

"Copy," Rev mutters.

I put my hand on Rev's shoulder and follow him up the wide but shallow marble stairs. As we reach the door, I check my mag, charging handle, and fire selector switch, making sure everything is ready for action.