Page 31 of The Team (The Milvus Files #3)

SIXTEEN

The night was silent, save for the crash and hum of the ocean licking at the shore and the pump of Rhett’s pulse in his ears.

It’s just another mission, he told himself. Like all the others. Simple arrest of two targets and the extraction of one hostage, and the elimination of any threat in between.

Except this hostage was one of theirs.

Not that all hostages weren’t valuable or important, but this was a loved one of one of their team.

Failure wasn’t an option.

Failure had never been an option for Rhett, but this... this felt different.

He tried to imagine how he’d feel, how he’d react and perform if it were Jay in there.

He remembered how Harrigan had reacted when it was Asher held hostage. Rhett could still hear the crunch of that man’s windpipe being pulverised by Harry’s hand.

He couldn’t risk Yin doing a repeat.

Emotions, adrenaline, combined with high-strung reactions, itchy trigger fingers were never a good combination. Though Rhett was under no illusion that Yin needed his weapon to kill anyone.

“Remember,” Rhett said. “We take Frankston and Wong alive. Are we clear?”

His team nodded, except Yin, who was looking back toward the house.

“Yin?”

“Yes,” he answered, distracted. But then he shook his head and focused. “Clear.”

“Good. Sid, Echo, Yin, and Chen, take the bedroom wing and get Jun-mei.” Rhett knew there’d be no use putting him on any other detail.

“Az, Coyote, and Jay, you’re with me. Entry point is the south terrace.

They don’t know we’re here, but as soon as we get inside, it’s game on.

Intel has five armed guards, ex-SWAT. Expect pushback and weapon fire.

” He put his hand to his ear. “Have you got ears?”

They all nodded in silence.

The mansion loomed over the landscape, a modern fortress of glass and steel, its perimeter lined with infrared cameras and motion detectors. Rhett led the team up the rocks, crossing the manicured lawn toward the south terrace, crouched in the shadows, weapons at the ready as they ran.

Through Rhett’s earpiece, Director King spoke clear and concise. “Security guard coming in at your three. Armed with a QBZ-191.”

Azrael didn’t even slow down to put a bullet in the guard before he could even raise his gun. “One out of five.”

Rhett got to the glass doors of the terrace, held his breath for half a second, and with a quick prayer to the cyber gods in the Shanghai conference room that they’d disabled the alarms, he slid the door open.

Silence.

The interior was a fusion of wealth and bad taste. Expensive marble, original artworks with tacky gold frames told Rhett this guy was not born into money. Or he was colour blind.

It was, thankfully, well-lit.

“Three targets are on the second floor,” King said in Rhett’s ear. “Two security detail in the hall, same 191 rifle.”

Rhett signalled for Sid and his team to go right to the bedroom wing, while Rhett led his team to the grand staircase, their rifles sweeping every angle as they went.

“Agent Ritchie,” King said to Sid. “Armed guard in the hallway coming your way.”

Rhett put his hand up for his team to stop before they hit the landing on the second floor. He needed Jun-mei safe before they detained these two dicks.

A soft pop sounded in Rhett’s earpiece.

“Threat neutralised,” Sid murmured. “Two from five down.”

Rhett gave the signal for his team to move.

“Captain,” King said in his ear. “Second door on your left. Guard outside.”

“Roger that,” Rhett whispered as he gave the signal to move.

Rhett raised his rifle, finger on the trigger, and rounded the corner. The guard sputtered, and Rhett shot him before he could raise his gun or the alarm. “Three from five.”

They swarmed in low, rifles raised, and Rhett paused for a moment as they got into formation at the closed door. “ On three,” he whispered. “One... two... three.” Then he kicked the door open, and everything happened so fast.

Tan, who was already on his feet, spun to face them, and Az was first in, her rifle zeroing in at his forehead. “Hands where I can see them.”

Echo rounded past Rhett and trained in on Tan as well. “Get on your knees.”

He was, in this room, the greatest threat.

Frankston leapt out of his chair, dropping his iPad. “Hands in the fucking air,” Rhett barked at him. “And get on your knees.” He spared a glance at Wong. “You too. Hands where I can see them.”

Wong had scooted backwards on his chair behind the desk, his face pure shock and horror. He didn’t move, so Jay rounded on him, rifle pointed at his head, and barked out something in Chinese.

That, he clearly understood. He rose to his feet, hands trembling, face pale.

Rhett homed in on Frankston. “You are gonna fucking hang for this.”

Frankston had the audacity to sneer at him.

So Rhett cracked Frankston’s nose with the butt of his rifle. “You were told to get on your fucking knees.”

Blood gushing, he fell to his knees, holding his nose.

“Captain,” Sid said through their comms. “She’s not here. The woman here is not Jun-mei. Yin’s on his way to you.”

“It’s not her,” Rhett said, even though his team heard exactly what Sid had just said.

Then Yin ran almost past the door, but grabbed the jamb and burst into the room. He lasered in on Tan like a heat-seeking missile and grabbed him by his face—Az and Echo adjusting their stances—and with nothing short of rage and fury rolling off him, fired rapid Mandarin at him.

“Stand down,” Rhett barked.

Yin, still holding Tan’s face, his chest heaving and unbridled rage in his eyes, spared a glance at Rhett before letting his grip go.

Rhett shoved Frankston with his boot, sending him back onto his ass, still holding his bloodied nose. “Where is Jun-mei?”

“My nose,” he wailed like the pathetic piece of shit he was.

So Rhett cracked him again. The crunch was sickening and the way Frankston wailed, clutching his broken face, was almost satisfying. Almost.

“You hit me,” he cried, like a dumbass.

“It’s the least of what you’re about to endure,” Rhett said. Then he turned his rifle on Wong. “Where is she?”

He flailed pathetically before he fell back on his ass, and Jay followed with his rifle aimed directly at his forehead. “He speaks English,” Jay sneered through clenched teeth. “Yin Jun-mei. Where is she?”

Just then, Sid and the others reached the room, Chen holding the arm of a woman. She was young and petite, a purple goth streak in her long black hair, wearing black jeans, a black hoodie, and a filthy scowl as soon as she saw Wong.

She gave him a spray of Mandarin and it was Chen who translated. “She say his sister. She supposed to stay in her room.”

Chen sat her down in the corner and, Rhett could assume, told her to stay put. She drew her knees up when she seemed to realise the room was full of automatic weapons.

Wong put his hands out. “Don’t hurt her. She’s not part of this.”

“She is part of this,” Yin spat. “You made her part of this. Now where is Jun-mei? She was here. Where is she?!”

He shook his head, eyes darting to Tan, and Rhett knew that’s where the answer was. He rounded on him and put the muzzle of his gun to Tan’s forehead. “It’s all over. Your government knows everything. Where is she?”

Tan had the au-fucking-dacity to smile, even with two rifles aimed point-blank at his head, so Rhett took a deep breath before he cracked him in the fucking nose too. He barely even winced, but his sneer was murderous.

Rhett hadn’t wanted this to get so violent, but that fucking smile, the daring in his eyes was cold.

Not redeemable.

But he wasn’t gonna talk. Wong was just a gutless moneybag, but Frankston... Apply some pressure and he’d fold like a fucking deck chair.

“Yin,” Rhett said, going back over to Frankston to loom over him. “Did the Chinese government say they needed Frankston alive?”

“Yeah.”

Rhett lowered his gun to where Frankston’s knees met the floor. “Did they say anything about kneecaps?”

Yin hummed, as if thinking... “No. No mention of kneecaps.”

Frankston shook his head, eyes wide.

Rhett pointed his gun to Frankston’s crotch. “Any mention of testicles? Would a traitor need his testicles intact for whatever the Chinese government is going to do to him?”

Yin smiled at that, then took two long strides over, and with an FA Cup goal-winning kick, he swung his right boot directly into Frankston’s balls.

Rhett winced—because that had to fucking hurt—Sid groaned, Jay hissed, and Azrael laughed. Coyote mumbled, “Goddamn.”

Frankston fell heavily onto his side, clutching his crotch. The sounds he made were more animal than human. His eyes were wide, he frothed at the mouth and drooled onto the floor.

Rhett grabbed him by his hair and pulled him back up to his knees. “Now, we’re gonna ask you again. Yin Jun-mei. Where is she?”

Frankston still couldn’t speak, apparently, so Rhett pulled his head back by his hair and glowered down at him. “If you think that hurt, we haven’t even got to the part where we make you pay for Kowalski and Myles yet.”

Sid had a knife out, stomped over, and pressed it to the corner of Frankston’s eye. “He won’t need both eyes, will he?”

“When you pop it out, don’t damage the retina,” Azrael said. “We might need it to open security doors or something.”

Frankston still wasn’t motivated enough to speak, so Sid pressed the knife edge to draw a little blood. “Why did you betray us? Why did you betray Kowalski and Myles?”

“If he won’t talk,” Yin said, “spread his knees and I’ll kick him again.”

Frankston drew his knees together, shaking his head. “ They weren’t supposed to be there,” he blurted out. “They found out where Gordian and Askarov were meeting. Not through me. They overheard them talking. It wasn’t my fault.”

“You sold us all out, you fucking piece of shit,” Coyote hollered at him. “You tried to have us all killed in Tehran.”

He floundered like the piece of shit he was. “I didn’t... It wasn’t supposed to... it all got out of hand?—”