Walking three-fourths of a circle around the house, I meet Andrew at the door to the library that has a porch attached to it.
Nodding my head to him, I notice he’s got a splash of blood on his chest and face.
“What the fuck?” I ask with a harsh whisper.
“Fuck off,” he growls right back.
Snickering, I murmur, “I thought you SEAL boys were professionals.”
Bending down to the lock, I pull a set of picks from my vest. It’s a quick jiggle and then I’m in like a flash.
“You and James need to go rob a vault or something. Not natural how well you do that.”
“Yeah, your mom said the same thing.”
“She’s dead, ya dumb fuck.”
“I broke her hip, what do ya expect?”
Moving through the house, I head to the basement door leading off from the kitchen.
“Hurry up, I’ll post myself outside of the master bedroom,” Andrew says.
Opening the door, my hackles instantly rise. Something’s off here and I can smell it from a mile away.
There’s a fucking steel, prison-type door at the bottom of the stairwell.
“Gonna need more time,” I murmur.
“What the fuck for?” Andrew asks back.
“Simon, you seeing this shit?”
“Affirmative. Andrew, get ready to take the main target. James, move in. I need you to make your way to basement with Johnathan.”
“Moving, but I’m ten out at a dead run.”
“Take your vehicle and move to the house. I’m calling in Harrold for clean up.”
“Tell him to bring his torch crew. Simon, this shit is smelling to high heaven.”
“I’m heading down the stairs. Going to work on the door.”
“Careful, Johnathan, check for traps,” Simon says quietly. I don’t think he knows what to expect any more than I do.
Heading slowly down each stair, I look for anything out of place. I mean out of place besides a big fucking steel door that could be used in a prison.
Standing in front of the door, I look at the lock—it’s a big fucking deadbolt. Those are never an issue, anything can be picked or broken.
“James, how far out?”
“Got a deadbolt.”
Pulling my picks up, I work for a bit, but nothing’s feeling right. “Got a drill?”
“Yeah, I’ll bring it in.”
Heading back up the stairs, I wait for him to come through the door. As soon as I see his face, I motion to the stairs. “Wait for us. Going to secure the targets first.”
Nodding his head, James silently moves past me and then down the stairs. I’ve never seen someone move like he does.
It’s part predator, part fucking ghost like shit.
Moving through the house, I notice how full of fancy shit it is. I mean, like even I know how expensive this shit is, and it’s beyond shit my rich ass parents ever had.
This doctor must be more than we know.
Going up the stairs, I finally reach Andrew and nod. Pointing to the door, we both move as one. Reaching out to the handle, I test it very gently.
No sense in getting our heads shot at if the doc or his partner have a gun.
Giving the nod of my head, I twist the knob slowly open and then quickly move through the doorway.
Andrew steps past me, raising his rifle as I raise my own.
Quickly moving to the sides of the bed, I pull a suddenly shrieking man’s head from the pillow.
Not the doctor.
Putting the barrel of the weapon to his head, I pull the trigger twice.
A loud scream of fear comes from Andrew’s man as a wall of blood splashes across his face. Cuffing the guy soundly across the back of the head, Andrew and I watch as his eyes roll to the back.
Good, he knocked the bitch out with the first shot.
“What the fuck is so important downstairs?” Andrew asks as he begins to zip tie the man’s hands together.
“Fucking steel door at the bottom of the steps, like a prison kind of steel door.”
“Yep. You want to get the SUV for dipshit?” I ask.
“Yeah, I’ll drop him near you guys so you can keep an eye on him.”
“Gag his ass.”
Walking down the stairs, I take a moment again to notice how wealthy this guy is. He’s in the fucking money. He’s got original paintings on the walls that look all kinds of abstract and completely expensive.
“James, you notice how expensive this guy’s taste is?”
“Yeah, the library alone has some shit I could move at premium cost. He’s not the usual doctor.”
Something about him helping the Russians sounds odd to me. “Andrew, he have any tats?”
“Let me check.”
I can hear a shuffle of noise through his mic and then he says, “Nope, nothing.”
“Simon, who the fuck is this guy?”
“Former doctor out of Siberia. Got his start in the prisons there as a medical doctor. Moved up the ladder with his willingness to do anything. He makes Stalin look like a school girl.”