Page 3 of Surge
As they reached the outskirts of the neighborhood intel had targeted, lit by the moonlight, Garrett pulled aside and motioned the MWD team ahead. The neighborhood was empty and quiet. He looked over at Samwise. “Go.”
The handler caught Tsunami’s collar. “Tsunami, seek-seek-seek.”
Garrett trailed the duo, who were checking shadows, windows, doors, rooftops, the hard-working nose taking in scents.
With all her spunk on full display again, Tsunami charged forward to do her job, towing Samwise as they took point. Just like Charlie, the dog ran toward the trouble, anxious to seek it out. Ears swiveling, the Malinois rushed onward, sleek snout drawing in long, puffing breaths as she zigzagged up the street. She hugged the first row of structures, sniffing out each door and moving on to the next.
Keeping pace, Garrett patrolled the street, monitoring the dog’s progress and the comms chatter, anticipating trouble. Which would come. He could feel it in the air.
Tsunami hurried to a house, passed it. Lifting her head, she took in long draughts and circled around. Took more time sniffing a corner of the building. Paced the scent trail back and forth. She angled toward Garrett and brushed against his leg. He’d swear she did that on purpose, almost as if telling him to give her room to work the scent cone.
He backed up. Samwise had once explained that the scent trail started wide and narrowed—like a cone—as it got closer to the scent source.
Tsunami planted herself in front of a door.
Attagirl.
Samwise glanced at him and gave a nod, then drew his Malinois aside.
Shoulders taut, Garrett stepped up to examine the barrier and spotted a digital lock.Well, that’s different . . .He visually traced the jamb for tripwires or plastique. If the dog said the lipid was here, then the lipid was here. He just didn’t want to get blown to kingdom come proving that. “Zim, you’re up,” he subvocalized to their communications specialist as he shifted aside and saw Charlie holding watch.
The five-nine SEAL hustled up, phone in hand as he eyed the digital lock. In what felt like seconds, Zim overrode the electronic lock, then snapped up his weapon and stepped back.
“Send the dog,” Garrett said.
Samwise caught Tsunami’s lead and unclipped it. After a nod from Garrett, he sent the black Malinois into the white house.
M4A1 up and tucked into his shoulder, Garrett glided left, checking the corner, then swung right along the wall. Amid a series ofclears, he caught the winey smell of cookstove ethanol with a hint of mold that permeated the tightly packed space. The four-legged operator trotted down a long hall, ducking into a room and out of another.
Garrett navigated the plaster home. Around a wobbly table, a threadbare cushion lazily tossed in a corner. Soda bottles and cans littered the dirt floor.
“Clear,” Zim comm’d just before he reemerged, moving methodically to the next room, weapon tucked firmly against his shoulder.
Ahead, Tsunami emerged from a back room and headed for the stairs.
Stairwells were notorious for creating an incredibly risky fish-in-a-barrel scenario. Garrett nodded to the handler, who sent the dog up.
Tsunami vaulted from every third step till she reached the top and rushed to the left and an open door barely visible from the lower level. Spine to the wall, Garrett swept his weapon up as he climbed the stairs, expecting contact any second.
On the second level, he peered around the corner.
Tsunami was hauling in scents as she headed down a narrow hall straight to the farthest door on the left. The Malinois sniffed at it. And she again planted herself with a double thrust of her snout at the door. Ears pricked, she stared at the barrier, then shot a glance to Samwise as if to say, “Right here, Boss.”
After Zim swung to his right on the top stair and readied himself, Garrett took up position. King and Brooks lined up behind them on the stairs. He’d learned long ago to trust MWDs. The team had to breach this location. But what was on the other side? Explosives? Was the door rigged? Wouldn’t put it past Sachaai.
Unexpectedly, the door jerked inward.
Garrett snapped his weapon up as a tall, lean man jolted at the sight of the dog.
“Hands, hands!” Garrett shouted in English and Urdu.
Samwise lunged at him as the man’s hand went up—revealing a small round device.
Without warning, Samwise and Tsunami dropped like wet blankets, bodies convulsing violently . . . then . . . went still.
No! Instinct pushed Garrett forward even as he smelled . . . nuts? What was?—
Thud!In a blink, the local was laid out on the floor too. The device tumbled from his hand and slid across the hall.