"Twelve armed guards patrolling just the perimeter. There are probably even more inside, and we only brought two sniper rifles—and both Clay and I need to be part of the assault team."
Jack lowered his binoculars, frowning. The patrols were one thing, but the real problem was the high-voltage fence lined with laser sensors every few meters and CCTV cameras covering the key approaches. Stealthing through that perimeter would be a nightmare.
"If your other sniper rifle isn't a beast like the Barrett, I might be able to sub in as a marksman," Negley volunteered.
Jack didn't respond right away. He looked to Reacher, who nodded without hesitation. "Aside from Larry, Negley's the shooter I trust most."
Larry had been the only Black member of the Special Investigations Unit, killed in a car crash years ago. According to his file, he'd once won top rifleman in an Army shooting competition.
"Hey, big guy," O'Donnell immediately took offense. "I'm a marksman too."
"You're a mediocre shooter at best," Reacher said bluntly.
"Bull. Dixon, back me up. Remember Biloxi—"
He didn't even finish before Dixon burst out laughing. "That was pure dumb luck. Normally, you couldn't hit a donkey from twenty yards."
"Screw you all," O'Donnell muttered, shoving a ballistic plate into his vest. He took the MDX508 that JJ handed him and slung it over his back, then grabbed a suppressed Noveske N4.
Despite the seriousness of the situation, the former Army MPs were still joking around. Maybe they'd just seen too much death to take it any other way.
"Alright. Hannah and Negley, you're our snipers. Thin out as many of the perimeter guards as you can before the breach. The rest is up to us."
Fortunately, everyone here was on the same page. A little bending of the rules wouldn't be an issue. Jack handed Negley Hannah's usual weapon—a G28E precision marksman rifle.
Hannah's body had become more sleek and urban since her previous athletic build, but she'd grown much tougher inside. She was no longer the "fragile" girl who'd strain her shoulder after a few rounds from a Barrett.
"Our next problem is knocking out their internal power. The Barrett's .50-cal incendiary rounds could handle most equipment, but the transformer is on the north side—blocked by the buildings.
If we move Hannah to another angle for the shot, we won't have enough cover or firing windows to protect her."
Jack stared at the south gate, brow furrowed. Like Jubal had said earlier—they were short on manpower. Even two or three more warm bodies would've made a difference.
"You're forgetting—we do have someone who can help," Reacher said suddenly.
Jack blinked. "What help? This op isn't sanctioned. Even though DHS and the FBI are quietly backing us, we can't call in SWAT."
This was a shoot-first, explain-later mission. As long as they could retrieve the missing missiles and chips, even a bloodbath wouldn't raise eyebrows. DHS would be more than happy to clean up the mess—after the objective was secured.
It was the same with the audio recording from Senator Lavoie. Unless they could prove a link between the "Little Wings" project and terrorism, nothing the senator said—even confessing to bribery and abuse of power—would stick.
If every senator who pulled crap like that was forced to resign, America might actually stand a chance.
Thinking of Senator Lavoie, Jack's eyes lit up. He remembered what the man had said back at the zoo.
"You mean have Lavoie send his people? But it's almost 1 a.m. now. We've got four hours left. Langston will be heading out soon to meet with AM. There's no time."
Reacher smirked. "Who knows? The good senator was very proud of his 'efficiency.' Anyway, my job is to stall. Maybe his people will make it in time."
He pulled out the untraceable phone Jack had given him. The other one—taken off a dead assassin in Atlantic City—had long since been ditched.
After a series of transfers, the voice of Senator Malcolm Lavoie came through. "Mr. Reacher?"
Reacher didn't bother with pleasantries. "You said I could call for help anytime. I have a chance to end this now. Will you stand by your word?"
"Anything you ask, I'll deliver—no exceptions," Lavoie replied quickly, clearly under the impression that Reacher was about to ask for favors or payment.
"I need your personal security detail. The guys who used to be Rangers and SEALs."
There was a pause. Lavoie clearly hadn't expected that. "Yes. Two SEALs and one Ranger."
"Good. I need them in Rockland County within two hours. Can you do that?"
Another pause. The senator was probably double-checking availability. Then he answered, "If this puts an end to it, yes."
"Have them contact me directly. I'll send them coordinates and the plan."
Just as Reacher was about to hang up, Lavoie spoke again. "Listen, Reacher… I know you think I'm just another corrupt politician. But I really was trying to help this country."
Reacher had the call on speaker. He rolled his eyes. Jack, standing across from him, began cleaning his ear with a finger, already bored.
"Yes, I took some… benefits. But who in Congress doesn't? I never imagined people would die because of it. You have to believe me."
Lavoie's voice was filled with regret—or at least, good acting.
Reacher cut him off coldly. "If you need to confess, find a priest. Right now, get me those men."
After hanging up, Jack gave him a sideways glance. "Maybe we should give our dear senator a 'chance' after all," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
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