“What do I say?” Boar asked, teeth chattering.
“You say, ‘All clear, boys.’ Loud enough for them to hear. And you wave. Got it?” Warren asked.
He squeezed Boar’s shoulder just enough to make the point. “If you twitch, signal them, or say anything else, you’ll be the first one taken out of the equation. Understood?”
Boar nodded quickly. He believed every word. He had seen these men move. They weren’t bluffing. For them, this wasn’t theater. It was work.
For the operators, it was difficult but familiar work—the kind of public service they meant to do right and finish clean. Meanwhile, Sam stayed in the driver’s seat of the bus, exactly where he’d been told.
He had strict instructions not to show himself and to get down on the floor if things started. Oddly enough, he no longer felt afraid. What he felt now was something closer to grim curiosity.
All his working life he had paid people off, kept his head down, and worried about his family on these roads. Now he was sitting in the front row for the moment when the hunters and the hunted switched places.
He looked down at his weathered hands resting on the wheel. They weren’t shaking anymore. Having forty highly trained men nearby worked better than any pep talk ever could.
Time in the ambush dragged. Every minute felt long. The forest carried on around them: an owl somewhere in the distance, a branch snapping under some small animal’s feet.
But Warren’s men made no sound at all. They had mastered one of the most valuable skills in their line of work—the ability to wait without moving, to become part of the landscape while staying fully alert.
Then, from the direction of the highway, came the low growl of approaching engines.
At first it sounded like wind in the treetops. Then it grew louder, turning into the unmistakable rumble of several powerful vehicles. “All units,” Warren said quietly over the net, “stand by. Weapons tight. We need them alive if possible. If they force it, end the threat fast.”
Headlights cut through the trees and swept across the clearing, the old mill, and the staged vehicles. Three large SUVs burst onto the open ground, throwing mud in high arcs. Expensive trucks. Serious trucks.
They rolled in with confidence and braked in a half circle around Boar’s disabled SUV and the bus, neatly blocking the exits. Doors flew open almost at once, and a support crew spilled out…
