The National Guard had blocked the roads surrounding the hotel. Roving patrols protected the perimeter, with guards posted inside the hotel, fortified entry and exit points, plus two-man sentry teams on each block. According to Luther’s intel, each checkpoint boasted an M60 belt-fed machine gun.
Though the General’s mercenaries were fair game, Liam would not willingly kill an American serviceman or woman. It was the only way he could live with himself. By the expressions on his team’s faces, they felt the same.
With caution, they approached Broad Street, passing cafes, bars, a bank, and a lawyer’s office. The streets were deserted. The streetlights shattered. The air still but for the distant rumble of the Humvee patrol roaming the empty streets.
Stacking up behind the pillar, they moved out, scanning the rooftops, Bishop going left, Liam right, Bishop low, Liam high, with Reynoso guarding their six.
Their every movement was choreographed in perfect concert, three bodies acting as one efficient, lethal organism. His heart pounded, the adrenaline rush pouring through his system, amping every sense. He was in his element.
He could hardly admit it, even to himself. How much he missed this part. Working together as a team. Belonging to a brotherhood. Knowing with one hundred percent certainty that your partner had your six, no matter what.
The growl of engines drew closer.
His adrenaline spiked. Liam halted and held up a fist. Swiftly, his team hid themselves as a four-man patrol swept down Lake Boulevard.
The patrol drove two Humvees with turret-mounted M2s and weren’t hard to miss—or evade.
It seemed more like posturing. A warning for desperate citizens to steer clear or face the consequences. These soldiers weren’t here to hand out water bottles and toothbrushes.
Once the patrol passed, Liam’s assault team kept moving.
With the makeshift antennae, Reynoso directed them to the soft target location about eight blocks from the Boulevard Inn. The bulk of the General’s transport and fuel supplies were tucked into the two-story parking garage between a wine store and an auto insurance business.
Four soldiers guarded the entrance, separated into two-man teams. There likely wouldn’t be anyone inside, just the sentries outside along the perimeter. Three males and one female. Two were armed with M60 machine guns and wore body armor with ceramic plates.
The soldiers looked grim, bored, and miserable. Their posture lax, shoulders drooping.
The lack of electricity was taking its toll. The hunger. Constant discomfort and sleep deprivation. Separation from friends and family.
They were soldiers, but they weren’t battle-hardened special operators. Many were probably torn between their duty to country and their responsibilities to loved ones. Each day, they waged an internal battle, a struggle between honor and shame, duty and family.
They didn’t know it, but they were following the orders of a sociopath who didn’t care whether they lived or died, or if their loved ones were safe, sheltered, and fed.
Liam massaged the trigger guard, every muscle taut, his stomach knotted with misgiving.
A fresh surge of loathing struck him. Yet another Sinclair forcing his hand, making him choose between impossible options.
Instead of the peace he longed for, he was going to war.
“Alpha Team Three, this is Alpha One,” Bishop said into his radio. “We’re in position.”
There was no response. They were out of range. Liam looked at his watch. They knew communication was going to be crap, so they’d timed the attack. Any second now.
Several miles away, Hayes led a team to create a diversion. Using a homemade napalm mixture, they’d set a TJ Maxx ablaze. The General’s scouts would send a team to investigate.
Once the unit responded to the diversion, the secondary team would ambush them and pin them down—hopefully, without taking casualties.
In response, the General would send his reaction force, tying them up and wasting precious fuel and ordnance.
Utilizing Michigan’s rolling terrain to their advantage, Hayes had set up an ambush location at a choke point between two exposed hills. They were dug in behind rock and dirt berms to protect them from the M2’s firepower.
The long-range ambush would reduce the Guard’s effectiveness while allowing Team Three to break contact before the soldiers could strike back. It was one of the Taliban’s favorite tactics.
They’d constructed an IED to detonate ahead of the armored vehicle, designed to disable it without killing its occupants. When the guardsmen jumped out of the Humvees to scramble for cover, Hayes’s team would open fire on the vehicles to disable them before making a quick exit.