Holding his Hostage - Amy Gamet Page 0,50

suspected led to the catwalk he’d observed on their earlier visit.

Biggest question was, who would be waiting for them when they got there? Sloan couldn’t imagine McKenzie had any intention of letting David live. Not after what he knew and what he’d done to her cousin. There were sure to be tangos. That much was clear.

Mac parked the SUV and the men filed out. Razorback, Chop, Asher, Gavin, and Sloan. They took off at a jog through the woods, their course predetermined and understood. Sloan’s mind wandered to Joanne, who’d stayed back at the house to greet the children and Evelyn. If David made it out of here alive, he would reunite with his family there tonight.

Mac’s earlier words swam in his head. Did Joanne really love him? Would she choose him over David, given the choice? She’d obviously forgiven him and wanted him in her life. That didn’t bode well for his chances, no matter what Mac thought.

He forced his attention to the matter at hand as the warehouse came into view in the distance. The Walkway Over the Hudson gleamed in the night sky, its light blurred and hazy from the falling ice and snow. Each man had a different plan of attack. Sloan’s target was the fire escape entrance, and he was prepared to do what was necessary to breach it with explosives, a hack saw, bolt cutters, a blow torch, and lock-picking tools in his pack. He also made sure each of his teammates was prepared with pepper spray in case the dog returned.

“You see anything, Champion?” Razorback asked in their ears.

“Not a thing, gentlemen.”

They reached the building, separating and heading to their individual targets. Sloan reached the fire escape, its ladder some twelve feet in the air and completely out of reach. He pulled a rope and grappling hook from his pack, swinging the metal end to catch on the ladder of the fire escape, and waited for the train to come by. According to the Metro North schedule, one should be along in the next three minutes or so.

He put his back against the wall and took in his surroundings. A small car headed down the road toward the warehouse. David was right on time. A train whistle pierced the quiet evening, the lights of the engine illuminating the ice in the air as the locomotive approached the warehouse.

As soon as the train reached him, Sloan pulled hard on the grappling hook, sending the fire escape ladder squealing to the ground. It landed with a thud, the roar of the train easily surpassing its volume, and he tucked the hook back into his pack as he quickly climbed the ladder.

David was to stay in his car until the train passed, then immediately head for the entrance. Each man of HERO Force should then be in place, provided they didn’t need their explosives.

Sloan reached the top, grabbed his night vision goggles and infrared flashlight, using the combination to check out the locking mechanism on the door without calling attention to himself from the ground.

“I just need to cut a chain,” said Razorback over the comm set.

“Same here,” said Chop.

A heavy deadbolt could be seen through the crack in the fire escape door, and Sloan cursed under his breath. “I need the C4.”

Champion announced, “Regan’s on the move. Approaching the front door from the parking lot.”

Sloan rushed to set the charges, using only a small amount of the malleable explosive. He was highly aware of the age of the brick building and the possibility of additional destruction.

“Regan’s reached the door.”

Sloan set the detonators and quickly descended the fire escape, announcing, “Detonation in five, four, three, two, one.” He jumped for the ground as he set off the charges. There was no train that could disguise the noise of an explosion. He scrambled back up the ladder the instant he hit the ground.

He could hear the other men talking as they breached the interior of the warehouse. “Tango, nine o’clock!” “Tango, six o’clock!” Gunshots rang out as Sloan reached his entrance, donned his NVGs, and drew his weapon.

Inside was eerily quiet, the catwalk before him going in two different directions, smoke and debris filling the air from the explosion. He went left, the guardrails of the catwalk only a foot or two high, and trained his weapon on the ground. He panned the area for tangos and his own men. Where the hell was everyone?

More shots rang out, movement below as someone ran between two of the