Buying Beth (Disciples 3)

I haven’t looked back.

“I’ll put out some feelers. See if anyone over in the Legion are disreputable enough to work with us.”

“Make sure they aren’t Russians. Lucifer is pretty fucking hard up about the fuckers right now.”

“Dude, I ain’t saying the French are picky, but the Russians haven’t been welcome with them lately.”

Placing the tiny bud in my ear, I nod my head. “Check on comms one.”

“Comms command, good to go,” Simon’s voice fills my head.

Andrew puts the car back into drive and slowly eases us towards the house.

“Next time, could you try to stay awake, Johnathan?” Simon grouses at me through the earbud.

“How the hell did you know I was sleeping?”

“We heard your loud snoring through the damn ear mics.”

Snickering, I look to Andrew. “How long was I snoring?”

“Five fucking minutes. I don’t think you damn Legion boys were taught anything about staying ready for upcoming ops.”

“Eh, it was more of keeping in a good frame of mind.”

“Yeah.”

Pulling up in front of our stopping point, we both exit out of the SUV as quietly as we can. We’re trying to keep this a quiet op, hence we’re coming from the east of the house on a side street between two houses.

“James, what’s on the thermal scope?” Andrew murmurs.

“Six bodies, possible seventh underground.”

“Repeat that shit?”

Stopping next to Andrew, I nudge him with my elbow. “Basement, asshole. What’s in the fucking box type of shit.”

Shaking his head, he says, “Simon, we might need another team. I don’t think we have the spots we need to get in and out without causing an issue.”

“No time,” I quietly say to Andrew. “It’s three-forty.”

Growling, Andrew says, “Let’s see if we can get thermal on the outside guards, then we’ll see what we’ve got.”

“Why the fuck are we going into this so empty-handed, Simon?” I ask quietly.

Through the earbud, he hisses, “The doctor had been considered a minor player. Having four guards and a seventh unknown in the basement was not in the data files.”

“What the fuck? You’re the fucking Spider… how do you not have this information?” I want to shout but instead I murmur as quietly as I can.

“It’s being looked into, Johnathan. I promise you that. I also promise you we need this man.”

“Got it. There’s going to be a body count on this. You said four guards? Possible fifth? That leaves one or two unknowns. What have you got on that?”

“One in the basement I’ve got no information on. The one in the bedroom, I would say with nighty-nine percent accuracy, is his lover Jeffery Rogers.”

“Is he a player in our happy little fucking theater?”

“No, but we can’t use him as leverage either. Leave the body at the house. Gather as much intel as possible.”

“James, how loud is that cannon you have? Any chance of muzzling the volume?”

“Eh… not too bad. We don’t have many houses for the sounds to bounce off of. I’ve got a suppressor on, but I’d prefer not to though, if we don’t need it. It’s still going to make some sound.”

Nodding my head at Andrew, I point to our planned path. We move off at a slow run, no sounds coming from us except for our quiet footfalls.

Splitting off to the front of the house, I go hunting for the guy walking a slow pace around the front yard.

Murmuring quietly, I say, “Eyes in the sky would be helpful. Get a fucking drone next time.”

Removing my tactical knife from my hip harness, I slowly sneak up on the man and wrap my hand over his mouth, then I shove the blade straight into his chest.

Dead center on the heart.

Tipping us to the side, we fall with barely a sound. Pulse check gives me nothing. Pulling him to the row of hedges, I squat down beside the body.

“Target number three down,” Andrew comes through the mic.

“Target number one down,” I say as well.

“Stay still, John, you have a roving guard coming your way,” James says with urgency.

Holding my breath, I watch a guard pass by my location. He’s taking his time as he walks, his face buried in a fucking cellphone of all things.

Stupid shit.

Doesn’t he know that will kill any chance he had at seeing me in the dark?

Slowly stepping away from the dead body, I bring the knife back up.

A couple of duck waddle steps later, I stand quickly behind him. Holding my hand over his mouth, I quickly push the blade though his chest, just like the last stupid fuck.

“Target four down, pulling body towards house.”

“Target two on the side of house, lighting a cigarette.”

“On my way,” I murmur.

The fucker I’m carrying isn’t exactly light, so by the time I drop him near the front door, I’ve started panting. Fucking fat bastard.

“Target two down. Target’s location in house?”

“Two in the bedroom, from the heat signatures I’m getting on my thermal scope. Nothing on the third in basement,” James says through the comms, and I can hear the wind starting to kick up through the microphone.