THE ALL-TOO FAMILIAR SOUND of gunfire filled Cain’s ears as he pressed the UP button on the elevator.
The elevator doors slid open and Cain stepped in, the doors shutting behind him.
Cain looked up at the numbers over the cold metal doors; he had come to the dull conclusion that this elevator moved too slow for him. Not that he could do anything about it; he was at least ten feet from the ground and in a dark, deadly elevator shaft.
They should have a speed adjuster in these babies! Cain chuckled, retrieving a pack of Camels from his trench coat pocket.
Ten years ago, he would have never imagined that this would be his line of work. The military was the life for him, or so he’d thought. Thankfully, after three years serving as a Navy S.E.A.L. he had learned more than enough battlefield tactics to make him successful in this line of work.
The glowing numbers above the elevator reached FOUR and the doors crept open slowly. Ever so slowly…
Finally the doors opened to their maximum, allowing Cain to step out of the lonely elevator cab. He took a drag of his cigarette and then checked his watch.
11:23 PM.
He felt the familiar ergonomic grip of his M4-Carbine—a full-automatic assault rifle used by all branches of the military, but particularly the Marines—in his hand. He would never get rid of the adrenaline rushes that flooded him when he did what he did.
He was the best at his line of work—if it were considered one.
The handheld radio on Cain’s shoulder had been silent for near five minutes, but the channel was now flooded with the mingled voices of his few accomplices: Derek Simpson, Charlie Deurkcest and Andy Goodwin.
Cain snatched up the radio and put it to his mouth, “How’re we doing, boys?”
Derek came back almost instantly—“Doing alright. Had a bit of trouble with security over here, but all’s quieted down now.”
“Good job, boys. My end isn’t acting up—yet. I’ll radio-in if there’s a rumble down here. Out.”
Cain replaced the radio and checked his rifle’s magazine once more. Satisfied, he switched the safety to the OFF and walked half cautiously, half confident that all would be perfectly executed.
There was no more announcer talking from the ceiling telling anyone which way was which, forcing Cain to use the glowing, off-white signs hanging from the ceiling to navigate through the airport.
Cain’s radio had settled down, which meant one of two things: either everything had quieted down and the others were within earshot of each other or they had all been killed without setting off some sort of alarm. The latter was highly unlikely, as all four of them were experienced ex-SEALs.
“We all good down there, Charlie?”
“Yes sir, they are.”
Better safe than sorry, Cain thought.
“Good. That’s very, very good. Keep a sharp eye, as I find it hard to believe that we have…dealt…with all of the security this place has. They’ll be coming, and I need all three of you later, you hear?”
“Understood,” Charlie muttered half-heartedly.
“So enthusiastic,” Cain clipped the radio back onto his shoulder again.