Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 129980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Maestro flung the door open and leapt out, ducking as he ran toward the tunnel entrance. Keys, Master and Player were right there with him, spreading out, running the way they had on so many missions. Reminiscent of a wolf pack. That was Czar’s teaching. He’d taught them to be wolves, to work together to bring down prey.
They made no sound as they moved through the grass, brush and rocks toward the tunnel entrance. Maestro was lead. Two guards were stationed on either side of the entrance. Neither wore the security company jackets with the logo that would have told him they were recently hired. The Billows brothers hadn’t taken any chances with their tunnel. They were using their own men to guard it.
Two guards outside, and they’re on full alert. They’re not rentals, he warned the others.
Keys, get close enough when the guards are taken down to vet the tunnel entrance inside, Steele cautioned.
Maestro detested that Keys would be in harm’s way. As an asset, he was worth his weight in gold. But he was also Maestro’s closest brother.
Maestro went down onto his belly and dug his elbows and toes into the ground to propel himself forward, staying low as he stalked his prey through the brush. He’d learned the maneuver from his childhood, when it was always life or death if there was a whisper of sound. A grass blade moving or a rock disturbed could earn a vicious beating with a whip, not just for him, but for the other members of his team. As children without medical aid and living in dirty conditions with rats and insects, always cold, the more they had open wounds, the more likely it was that someone would die. Maestro, like his other team members, had learned to move through the brush without detection.
He used the stalk of a leopard, moving and then freezing if his prey had looked toward him. The guard was a fairly large man, bulky in his oversized jacket. He carried a semiautomatic and had extra magazines strapped to his waist. A knife hung from his belt, blatantly large, the blade slightly curved. It was clear he meant business. He didn’t smoke or pull out his phone. He was very much on alert.
“All clear, Dwayne,” he reported to someone.
Someone has surveillance on these guards, Maestro said. Ink, we need eyes in the sky. He was frustrated that he couldn’t just take the guard out. He was only a few feet from him, but someone was watching over them. The moment he killed the first guard, the Billows brothers would be alerted, as would any other guards on the property.
“Check in with Bam-Bam, Conway,” came the terse reply.
Ink was their go-to man if they needed aid from birds or other animals. He had a way of connecting with them that, again, like Keys’ talent, Maestro had no understanding of how it worked. But his gift was valuable and had saved them many times as children. He’d been instrumental in shielding Steele’s young son, Zane, during their rescue of the child.
The flutter of wings heralded an owl swooping low, skimming along the grass, talons stretched toward the earth. The bird seemed to come out of nowhere and was large, like most of the great horned owls. With its four-and-a-half-foot wingspan and the shape of its wings and softly fringed feathers, the bird could fly in near silence. This great horned owl was gray and white in coloring, making it appear to materialize out of the San Francisco fog, looking for all the world like an apparition. With the large tufts on its head resembling horns, round yellow eyes and wicked beak, the predator was unnerving.
The owl streaked, talons outstretched, looking to lock on to prey hidden in the grass close to Conway’s feet. Conway swore, stumbling back as the owl pulled up and seemed to fade into the fog.
“Did you see that?” The guard sounded shaken.
“Yeah, what the hell just happened?” Dwayne demanded.
The team leader is sitting in the oak tree, the tallest one, with the bent, twisted branches, Ink reported.
I’m on it, Preacher said. Give me a couple of minutes.
“Did you see that owl, Bam-Bam?” Conway asked, apparently shaken. He rubbed one hand up and down his thigh. “I nearly pissed myself.”
The second guard, pacing just outside the entrance, gave a sneering laugh. “You sound like a girl, Conway.”
Conway swore at Bam-Bam but then laughed. “I wish I had my phone out and got a picture of it coming out of the fog.”
Dwayne is down, Preacher advised. You’re clear to go.
Maestro didn’t wait. On three. He didn’t have to look. He knew Keys was in position. They’d run this particular drill hundreds of times. He rose up, slashing with his knife, severing the arteries in the thighs, groin and under the arms in less than a second, slamming one hand over Conway’s mouth to prevent him from crying out. Maestro lowered him to the ground, stripping away the gun. Keys had mirrored his actions with Bam-Bam and was already hurrying away from the body to approach the actual entrance to the tunnel.