Recovery

The Recovery

Vince Richards rappelled through the skylight, slowly making his descent with the black nylon rope. He touched the floor gently, careful not to make a sound. Crouching, he immediately surveyed his surroundings. All was well.

He made his way stealthily through the large atrium until he came to another hallway that branched to the left. Carefully checking before he turned the corner, he made his way along, still crouched and keeping close to the wall.

Upon hearing voices ahead, he slowed to a halt, listening for a moment before continuing on his way. When he came to a partially opened door, the voices grew louder; their voices resonating from the inside. He unholstered a pistol from the small of his back and, pulling out a small silencer from one of his pockets, screwed it on as quietly as possible. Holding the gun in a downward position, he made his way past the doorway in order to have a better angle to look inside.

He saw his target: Brian Martinez. The man was a human and drug trafficker, wanted by the CIA for years before Richards and his team were finally able to locate him. They had spent the past two weeks on stakeout, watching his every move in his extravagant house. Ivan Petrov, former USMC Recon Sniper, was stationed over seven hundred yards away, lying perfectly still in the tree line, covered in a ghillie suit. Vince had no doubts he would hit the target with one shot if need be, but he would rather have a chance to talk to Mr. Martinez. Down the road was a utilities van used as the command post for the operation where another member of Vince’s team sat, monitoring the whole thing.

The man next to him was Dick Himmers, a long-time hitman and high ranking member in Martinez’s organization. Vince thought for a second, recalling how his partner, Jason Chandler, was in the hospital at this moment after being short by Himmers. Needless to say, Vince had no problem with what he was about to do.

“In position,” he whispered into his Bluetooth mic.

“Affirmative,” the reply came. Vince raised his pistol, and, taking just a brief second to aim at the head of Himmers, pulled the trigger. He immediately entered the room, pointing his pistol at Martinez’s head.

“Move and I kill you.” Martinez complied, and Vince flex-cuffed his wrists. Opening all the drawers of the desk, he searched through them until he found a single manila file folder, with the CIA emblem on the front, stamped with TOP SECRET.

Two more members of Vince’s team came in, taking Martinez as Vince grabbed the file.

“Mission complete; document recovered, package obtained, one man down.”

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