NIGHT DROP( A Eric the Red thriller: Book 1)

Chapter three: Let your plans be dark and impenetrable

Cartagena, Spain, Mediterranean sea

They motored into the port as the boat slowly slid between the sailboats and fancy yachts that were moored at the dock. One of the black-clad men stepped out of the boat. His jet-black HK36 hung on his person, and a pair of revolvers strapped to each hip, a.44 Magnum and Colt Anaconda. His eyes swept the port as they darted back and forth, scanning the terrain for any flicker of movement.

White, golden stone buildings aligned the port-side city, bustling with life. Although the harbor had been used for thousands of years, battlements of castles overlooked the city. Not far in the distance was the NATO naval base, where warships had docked at their port there, and submarines.

Emlin climbed off of the boat; her black leather jacket was soaked from the ocean as she slipped off her jacket as they made their way over to where the armored GMCs were parked. The black-clad mercenaries gripped the HK36 assault rifle in their grip, their fingers resting on the trigger, ready for movement.  

The rest of his team slid into the other armored GMCs parked behind them. They grabbed the doors, and they got in, closing the door behind them. They backed up and drove out of the port, heading through Old Town on their way to the safe house. The windows on the GMC were tinted, so no one couldn't look inside the vehicle. She glanced out as she took in the sight of the golden white baroque non-neoclassical buildings, noticing people walking along the sidewalk.

After a while of driving through the bustling streets, they arrived as they roared to a halt outside of the safe house. The lead mercenary grabbed the door handle as he stepped out, walked around to the back, and grabbed the door for her. Emlin climbed, closing the door behind her, and walked up the path to the entrance of the chateau. Outside, black-clad armed men clutch the Steyr AUG in their grip.

The Chateau itself had been brought through a shell company the organization owned and paid by a covert slush fund that couldn't be traced back to them. They had operated in secrecy and in the shadows, staying off the grind. She grabbed the door handle as she opened it, entering an elegant, spacious room with massive screens attached to the walls and keyboards on the desk beside them.

She tossed her black leather jacket down on the sofa as her eyes narrowed on the handler, looking at one of the large screens in the room. He was simply known by his code name, Atticus. He pivoted 

Did you retrieve the briefcase from the hotel room in Oslo?"

"No,we have a problem; whoever this Red is, I'm sure he's more than an agent." She scowled as she strolled over into one of the bedrooms at the side, closing the door. After that, she slipped off her tactical mini-rig before she went to have a shower. She towelled off, changing into a new black t-shirt and jeans, as she thought back to her first target, who had been a Norwegian Ambassador who Russia and China wanted out of the way so they could access the Arctic.

Emlin slipped back on her tactical mini rig after it dried, realizing that she didn't have her suppressed Amphibian.22 Ruger pistol with her. She'd never seen the punch coming before her gun went flying out of her grip at the hotel. 

She strode over to the weapons locker and entered the code to open it. The Sensor turned green as the door clicked open, and  she walked in. There were racks of every kind you can think of from an AR-30 bolt-action sniper rifle to a Knights SR-25, ORSIS-T 5000, Remington 700, McMillan TAC-50, and M107. Along with MP5 submachine guns,  AK-47,  Scar, Steyr AUG,  and FN Fal pistols hung on the rack, from Glocks, Berreta's and Sig's

She settled on a Sig P365XL with a red dot optic. She snatched the pistol from the rack,  grabbing some mags as she slid in one and then chambered it. After that, she placed the pistol into her tactical mini-rig strolling out of the weapons locker and closed the door behind her. 

Atticus paced back and forth, his eyes narrowing. "Medusa, we needed that briefcase. The banker was funnelling money through various channels for the organization. Plus, he knows too much about the operations of the organization. If the CIA or Norwegian Intelligence Service gets a hold of that briefcase, that isn't good." 

Atticus paced back and forth, his eyes narrowed. "Medusa we needed that briefcase, The banker was funnelling money through various channels for the organization. Plus He knows too much about the operations of the organization. Understand if the CIA or Norwegian Intelligence Service gets a hold of that briefcase that isn't good."

Atticus swiftly shoved his hands into the pocket. He did not meet Emlin's eyes.

"I'll have our asset look into this Red to see what he can find out about him."

She didn't know a lot about Atticus, except that at one time he'd been a legendary assassin who had been contracted by every intelligence service and terrorist organization in the world. 

Atticus snarled as his lips drew in a snarl, and his eyebrows rose. 

"You're forgetting the invite to the party and the burner. And why didn't you put a round into it when you had the chance?"

Her eyes widened as the muscles in her jaw twitched, and she inched forward.

"Trust me, he will never get past the security at the party in Corfu at Achilleion Palace." 

He sized her up as the corner of his mouth turned up, and he turned crimson. "He better not know how powerful and dangerous the organization we work for is. Plus, their clients will be attending the party.

She gesticulated as she gave a half-smile. "He won't either make it to the party; I can assure you, I'll have a team of shooters in place."

Atticus turned away as he walked back over to the large screen on the wall and questioned," By the way, what happened to your 22. Ruger you had before leaving for Oslo?"

He'd taken her under his wings, trained her, and sharpened her skills, which made her more efficient at killing from an extreme distance. Back then, she was just a teenager, and he'd seen talent in. He'd recruited her for Headshot, knowing that she would become one of their most efficient assassins ever. If he'd been in the hotel room instead of her, he would have eliminated this Red right on the spot.

She raised a brow  "It got knocked out of my grip when he drew a kidney punch at me."

Atticus eyes widened in surprise as he cocked his head and sighed. "I guess I was wrong about you, Emlin; I thought you were the best. You should know better than to leave your weapon. It could be traced back to us."

She gave a mirthless laugh as her expression hardened."Don't worry, there's no way that the gun can be traced to us or the organization," she explained, exiting the safe house and walking over to the firing range.

She withdrew the pistol as she gripped it, levelling up at the target. Her eyes narrowed on the target as her breathing slowed down. She felt the adrenaline flow through her as she pulled the trigger. The Sig recoil as the bullet flew out the muzzle and smashed the target.

He had saved her life more than once; she had almost been captured by Mossad after a failed hit on the head of the Israel Intelligence Service had gone awry on her.  The organization interfered and dispatched Atticus to retrieve her before she was even interrogated by them. For that she was truly thankful.

He had a point: what if the gun could get traced back to them? she thought to herself. And if so, the organization where she worked wasn't going to be happy about it.

She'd never been to the organization herself; assassins like her got their orders through a burner at the safe house or their handlers. It made her wonder: who was really behind it and running? Slipping her pistol back into the tactical mini-rig, she thought back to a rumor she had heard from one assassin: that Headshot had been created at the end of the Cold War and from the CIA Access Special Program Code (MK Ultra) and Thunderstorm.

It didn't matter to her who was behind the organization; Emilin was told no questions were asked and no answers were given; you accept it and move on. She strided back over to the safe house as she emerged from the firing range. 

She grabbed the door handle, nodding at the black-clad mercenaries standing guard outside as she walked inside, going over her options in her mind.