Page 25 of PSYCHOlogical

Chapter Nine

Staff Sergeant Briggs

We were parked in the pitch-black alleyway behind a run-down excuse for a home. Pike studied the thermal image on the handheld monitor as the thermal camera-fitted drone hovered over the target’s roof.

The area could have easily passed for being in any region of Mexico. Nearby storefronts and billboards were written in Spanish. Several of the dilapidated stucco buildings throughout the neighborhood had no windows, and very few had cars parked outside.

Although many of the one-bedroom homes sprinkled throughout the desolate desert region appeared to be abandoned, the majority were occupied by low-income families. Sadly, the area reminded me of my childhood.

“Looks like there’s no electricity in the house,” Pike said. “With those windows boarded up, we’ll need to use infra-red.”

Night vision goggles magnified a morsel of light enough to allow the user to see in near darkness. In the completely darkened home, however, we’d be required to use infra-red light to illuminate the rooms. The light was invisible to the naked eye, and only someone fitted with night vision would be able to see the infra-red glow.

“We’ve got nine bodies,” Pike whispered as he studied the monitor. “There’s six just inside the back door that look like they’re sitting, two in the bedroom on the left side of the hallway, and one in the room on the right. The two bodies in one bedroom are horizontal, the other is fetal. Probably asleep.”

“What do you want me to do?” CW asked.

“Land it,” Pike said. “Unless Briggs wants to see something else.”

“Land the drone,” I agreed. “Let’s get geared up, go in, and get this over with.”

Protocol prevented us from flying into the cities where our assignments took place. Weapons, ammunition, and equipment were placed in checked baggage and flown into a neighboring city, where a car was rented and then driven into the target’s city. On this mission, we’d flown into Phoenix, which was three hours away. We then drove a rented SUV to Nogales, Arizona.

CW secured the drone, and we retrieved our weapons from the rear of the SUV. The HK MP7 was perfect for the assignment, as they were short-barreled, making them easy to handle in close quarters. The silencers allowed us to use the weapon in urban settings without alerting neighbors to the fact someone was firing live rounds.

“We using the SAPIs?” Pike asked, referring to the Small Arms Protective Inserts for our tactical vests.

“I don’t need to look at the intel sheet to know these guys are armed to the teeth,” I responded. “They’re cartel members. I’m wearing mine.”

The insets provided additional protection against weapons larger than small caliber pistols. In combat, the they were often discarded due to the additional weight they added to the vest. In a ten-minute long operation, the additional weight was negligible.

Pike looked at CW.

CW shrugged. “If they’ve got AKs, that Interceptor isn’t going to stop them on its own. I’m planning on going home when we’re done. I’m wearing mine.”

“Fuck it,” Pike said. “I’ll wear the fuckers.”

Pike was a risk-taker, often placing himself in situations that he didn’t need to. In combat, he volunteered to be the number one man in many situations where we were clearing buildings filled with combatants. His seniority allowed him to be the third man in, yet he often refused the position at the rear, fearing he may miss some of the action.

“Pike, you’re the number one, I’ll be number two, and CW will be three. Be advised, no one makes it out of there alive.”

“Roger that,” Pike said. “How are we going to breach the door?”

“Backdoor breach,” I replied. “No explosives. I’ll use my boot.”

At 0300, it was doubtful any of the neighbors were going to second guess our SUV being there. To think it was the first time they’d seen a late-night visitor at one of the homes in the neighborhood was laughable.

Wearing all black tactical gear, we approached the rear of the home with our night vision goggles affixed to our helmets and our weapons at the ready. Upon reaching the rear door, Pike took the number one position.

He looked at CW, and then at me. We gave the nod of approval.

The heel of my boot hit just to the side of the door handle. The door flew open with a loud bang, revealing six occupants. CW and I fired our weapons simultaneously, eliminating the six men in the room without any opposition.

Pike moved to secure the hallway.

The abandoned home was free of any furnishings or carpet. Despite our weight causing the floor to creak with each step, we followed Pike toward the rear of the eerily empty home. As we reached the end of the corridor, automatic weapon fire erupted from inside the left bedroom.

Pike booted the door and stepped to the side. Simultaneously, CW fired through the paper-thin sheetrock walls, into the bedroom.