The signature move of the Ferraro kill was taught to them at a very young age, almost from infancy. Crispino was already learning, just in play, the technique of placing his baby hands on the head just so. Emmanuelle snapped the second neck, her touch so light, her movement so stealthy and quiet, so fast, that she’d dropped the first two bodies in a brief second and the third man, the treacherous Giorgio, had no idea she was behind him until he glanced over at Brando and saw him slumped down, head at an odd angle.
Her hands were already on him, fingers light, so he was unaware. His mouth opened to issue the alarm when she tightened her grip and wrenched hard, preventing sound. The moment she did, she was over the seat, pushing aside his body, her hands on the head of the man, the leader, in the passenger seat. This was her greatest risk. She was totally exposed to the driver. The windows of the SUV were tinted, but that didn’t mean those in the car behind her might not see what was taking place.
The leader, at the sound of the crack of Giorgio’s neck, had begun to turn his head. He was too slow. Emmanuelle was on him, whipping his head back and wrenching it in a smooth, practiced move. The driver let loose a string of curses, trying to drag his gun out of his shoulder holster, lurching toward her at the same time. The movement only drove his head straight at her, giving Emmanuelle the advantage. She took it.
She let go of the dead leader and gripped the driver face-first, ignoring his look of utter terror. Something smashed into the windshield, fragmenting the glass into a spider’s web, but it held. She glanced up, even as she took a firmer hold and wrenched hard. The man from the first vehicle who had been trying to unlock the gates was running toward them, his weapon out. He had to have heard the driver swearing. He hadn’t taken two more steps before he went down. One of the Ferraro snipers had taken him out.
Emmanuelle glanced around her, looking at the ground, hunting for a shadow that would take her close to the next vehicle in line. She’d used up only a couple of seconds, but shots had been fired. Those in the other cars would be antsy and looking for instructions from those in the air. No doubt there would be a flyover soon to assess the situation. All the bodies, other than the one who had been working on the gates, were in the cars.
Elie had taken care of the third SUV so she took the shadow to the fourth one, only to find that one filled with dead men, too. Elie had been working quickly. That meant he’d left the fifth one for her and he was already at the truck. There was one shadow that went behind the SUV, and she took that one. The vehicle was directly in front of the truck, so the driver was facing her. If she stepped out of the shadow, he would see her without question.
The truck held two men in the front seat and three in the back of the extended cab. There were another six in the long truck bed. She didn’t see Elie anywhere, which meant he was in the shadows somewhere, just the same as she was, studying the problem. It never paid to hurry when they had a job to do. Others would take care of those coming in from the lake or dropping down onto the roof.
Emmanuelle heard the sound of a helicopter, and then the glaring shine of a spotlight quartered the ground all around the SUV and truck. It ran up the line until it got to the front near the gates, or at least she presumed that was where it was hovering. There was suddenly a flurry of activity in the truck and the SUV. Doors popped open. Men cautiously emerged, crouching close to the sides of the last two in line, but the others remained dark and silent.
The men looked at one another. One of the men by the front passenger truck door spoke into his radio, clearly trying to call out to others in the SUVs. When no one answered, the helicopter began to move slowly down the line again, spotlighting each vehicle, shining the glaring light directly into the windshield.
“They look dead. All of them, sir,” someone in the helicopter reported.
“That’s impossible.” That sounded like Angelo.
Emmanuelle heard the voice clearly coming over the radio of one of the three men who had been sitting in the back seat of the SUV. The three had slipped out and were now outside, crouched down, weapons drawn. Two were on the left side, one on the right. The two on the left side had lined up directly, one in front of the back tire and one behind it.