Spencer and Drago were out here too. Drago was covering the barn where they’d held the captive, and Spencer had the rear approaches to the house.
From his position on the west side of the long north-south yard, Gunner saw in the front windows Chas playing with the Poppy-sized mannequin. Now and then, he tossed her up in the air and pretended to laugh with her. At the moment, Chas was sitting on the couch, no doubt suffering through a children’s movie, with Poppy 2.0 tucked in the crook of his arm beside him.
The costumer at the CIA, whom Drago had called on to create the fake Poppy doll, had done a fantastic job of creating a copy of the child. The only giveaway that the doll wasn’t real was how still it was. Real Poppy was always in motion, wiggling and exploring. She never sat still or watched an entire movie.
Spencer radioed, “Your turn to run a patrol, Gun.”
“Roger.” He stood up slowly and moved off into the trees toward the road. He would go to the end of the grassy lawn and cut across in the woods between the yard and the road, and then patrol up the east side of the yard. He would set up shop over there until it was time to make another circuit of the front of the property.
It would be bold of the bad guys to come right in the front way. Drago thought they would sneak in from the back. Gunner worried that if the hostiles had enough guys, they might feel confident enough in their superiority to just come straight in, guns blazing.
He’d made it almost to the turn to cross in front of the house when a rustle of movement caught his attention. He froze, carefully scanning the trees. He spotted a blip of heat down low. It could be a small animal, maybe a rabbit, or it could be a human lying on the ground. His own ghillie net was woven through with material that diffused and disguised his heat signature. It was possible that the bad guys had the same technology, hence he didn’t automatically assume that little slash of heat was a sleeping bunny.
He moved off to his right, swinging wide of the position of the possible hostile to take a better look. It was slow going moving in complete silence, but in about ten minutes, he paused to scan again.
Sonofabitch.
“I’ve got three clustered heat signatures,” he breathed. “They’re lying low, not moving. Correct positioning for a team to be surveilling the house.”
“Hold your position,” Spencer murmured. “I’ll join you. Dray, move in to cover the front of the house.”
Gunner waited impatiently until Spencer slid up silently beside him and touched him on the shoulder. A tap from Spencer’s hand signaled him to move out. Proceeding at roughly the speed of a glacier, Gunner eased forward. Dammit, the signatures were gone.
He moved forward more quickly, and in about two minutes, he stared in disgust at what had clearly been an observation hide. Bastards hadn’t bothered to put back the sticks they’d stuck vertically in the ground to hold up their camo netting. A fallen log had provided cover from the front and explained the tiny slit of heat he’d seen. The log had hidden the rest of their heat signatures.
“Do they have heat-seeking gear?” Gunner asked. “Is that how they saw me coming and bugged out?”
“I think we have to assume that,” Spencer replied grimly.
“Which means if they were watching the house, they saw only the one heat signature of Chas inside. They know Poppy’s not in there.”
“Where did they go, then?” Spencer asked. He sounded as frustrated as Gunner felt. He should’ve shot the guys as soon as he spotted them. He probably wouldn’t have gotten them all, but the fuckers wouldn’t have disappeared without taking a hit.
“Looks like they left,” Drago announced.
“Now what?” he asked Spencer.
The other SEAL considered for a moment. “Lemme make a quick call to Poppy’s security team across the street.”
Gunner counted the seconds impatiently until Spencer reported, “All quiet over there. But I’ve told them to be on high alert.”
“And us?” Gunner asked.
“We hold our positions and wait.”
Gunner huffed. He hated the idea of sitting and waiting until the Oshiros decided to make a move. It was the right call, but he was itching to take these hostiles out and get on with his life. His life with Chas, dammit.
He knew patience was one of the SEALs’ greatest virtues, and Spencer was right to call on it now. But God, it was hard. He sank to his haunches and scanned in a three-sixty around the position. It was a good spot for a hide, on a slight rise with clear sight lines in every direction.
He probably ought to bring his SEAL-instilled patience to bear on Chas as well. The guy’d said he loved him again last night but had been more asleep than awake when he did it. This morning Chas had made no reference to it and didn’t seem to remember doing it. But Gunner could wait the guy out. He would say it again. And next time Gunner would make sure Chas was wide-awake to hear him say it back.
The stars wheeled slowly overhead and the night grew colder. Through his binoculars, Gunner watched Chas go through the motions of putting Poppy 2.0 to bed and moving around the house, turning out lights and generally shutting down for the night. He took pleasure in watching Chas’s slim, athletic silhouette through the windows, and a warm feeling filled his gut at the mere sight of him. Lord, he had it bad for Chas.
The last light, his and Chas’s bedroom light, winked out in the front corner of the house, and darkness fell inside the structure. Chas wouldn’t be asleep, if he had to bet. The poor guy would be lying in bed, jumping at every creak the old house made and at every puff of wind blowing outside.
A half hour passed with nothing happening. If the Oshiro soldiers were out here, Gunner had to give them credit: they were patient compared to most civilians.
Spencer murmured, “Dray, report.”
“All clear in the back. They haven’t come around here to jump the house from this side.”
“Gun, report.”
“All quiet in front.”
“I don’t like this,” Spencer replied. “We know they were here. Why aren’t they hitting the target?”
“They had to have IR gear. They must’ve figured out Poppy’s not in there.”
“So they just left? We killed one of their guys and held another one captive. Why wouldn’t they at least try to kill one of us? Vengeance is serious business for guys like these.”
Gunner had no answer. Spencer wasn’t wrong.
Spencer sighed. “Let’s run a carousel.”
He was referring to a maneuver where they would move clockwise around the house, circling it while remaining equidistant from one another. It was an effective way for a few people to patrol a large area.
“Gun, swing out close to the road and see if there are any vehicles parked down there.”
“Wilco.” Which was short for will comply.
He headed into the woods and was nearly to the front property line when he spotted a single heat signature. The guy appeared to be lounging against something, and there was a big, faint blob of heat just beside him. Vehicle engine block that was still warm. The guy was leaning against a car. Two more blobs indicated a total of three vehicles parked a dozen feet or so off the road.
Gunner reported low, “I’ve got one tango guarding three vehicles which appear to be hidden just off the road.”