Read Online Memorial Day by Vince Flynn - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Vince Flynn
Tags: thriller, det_political
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chucked the pyrotechnic through the open, smoking doorway and yelled, "Flash-bang away!"
Every trooper sealed his eyes shut in anticipation of the blinding white hot light of the grenade. At the sound of the thunderous explosion the team moved, storming the house in a well-orchestrated maneuver. The point man entered the house first and immediately swept the room to the right as the second man came in and swept it to the left. Both men found tangos and let loose a single round, striking their targets in the head. The third man pressed through the doorway with Corrigan right on his heels. They went straight for the back of the house not knowing the exact layout, but assuming that's where the bedrooms would be.
A man came out of a room on the left with a rifle in his hand and let go a poorly aimed burst. The trooper in front of Corrigan hit the man with two rounds in the face and they both kept moving. As the trooper peeled off into the open doorway that the gunman had come out of Corrigan moved quickly for the back of the house knowing that four more of his troopers were right behind him, and that the other two elements were covering the back of the house and the street. The only hope they had of getting live prisoners was to take the building down fast.
At the end of the hallway a man crossed from one room to another. Corrigan squeezed off a burst and kept moving. He wasn't sure if he'd hit his mark or not. Assured that his back was covered he ran down the hallway and swung his weapon into the room where the man had just gone. Looking through the narrow tunnel of his night-vision goggles, Corrigan was surprised to find the man with his back to him and standing only a few feet away. He had his weapon raised in the firing position. Without hesitation the master sergeant sent a round into the back of the man's head, killing him instantly.
Corrigan's muzzle did a quick sweep of the room and settled on an old man in the corner. Even with the relatively grainy image provided by his NVGs, Corrigan had a good idea that this was one of the men they wanted to talk to.
The old man suddenly lunged from the bed and let out a banshee-like scream.
Corrigan almost fired, but at the last second took a quick step to the side and dispatched the charging man with a butt stroke to the temple. One of the other team members joined the master sergeant in the bedroom.
Corrigan turned to the man and said, "Slap a pair of flex cuffs on this one."
"What about the other guy?" asked the trooper as he pointed to the second man lying face down on the floor.
"Dead. Secure his weapon and take up a position on that window." As Corrigan turned to leave the bedroom, he toggled the transmit button on his radio and called out for a situation report. The two teams outside reported the perimeter secure, and the team inside reported two more prisoners in addition to the one that Corrigan had just knocked unconscious.
He'd already noted the absence of shots being fired, but that wouldn't last long. His men all knew what to do. The easy part was over. Now it was time to dig in and wait for the cavalry.
"Remember what the general said," Corrigan said into his lip mike. "Anyone out wandering the streets at three in the morning is probably not looking to welcome us. Engage targets at will and don't be shy."
Nine
WASHINGTON, D.C.
The black limousine pulled up to the curb and a man with a moppish head of brown hair got out. It didn't matter if it was a Monday night or a Friday night, the Smith & Wollensky steakhouse on 19th Street NW was always crowded, and not with just any clientele. This was where D.C.'s big hitters came to eat red meat and drink booze and wine. In a town filled with influential people, many of them millionaires, or about to be millionaires as soon as they left their government jobs, Pat Holmes was at, or near, the very top of the totem pole. He'd made his money running Merrill Lynch's bond department during its heyday in the nineties. His
Every trooper sealed his eyes shut in anticipation of the blinding white hot light of the grenade. At the sound of the thunderous explosion the team moved, storming the house in a well-orchestrated maneuver. The point man entered the house first and immediately swept the room to the right as the second man came in and swept it to the left. Both men found tangos and let loose a single round, striking their targets in the head. The third man pressed through the doorway with Corrigan right on his heels. They went straight for the back of the house not knowing the exact layout, but assuming that's where the bedrooms would be.
A man came out of a room on the left with a rifle in his hand and let go a poorly aimed burst. The trooper in front of Corrigan hit the man with two rounds in the face and they both kept moving. As the trooper peeled off into the open doorway that the gunman had come out of Corrigan moved quickly for the back of the house knowing that four more of his troopers were right behind him, and that the other two elements were covering the back of the house and the street. The only hope they had of getting live prisoners was to take the building down fast.
At the end of the hallway a man crossed from one room to another. Corrigan squeezed off a burst and kept moving. He wasn't sure if he'd hit his mark or not. Assured that his back was covered he ran down the hallway and swung his weapon into the room where the man had just gone. Looking through the narrow tunnel of his night-vision goggles, Corrigan was surprised to find the man with his back to him and standing only a few feet away. He had his weapon raised in the firing position. Without hesitation the master sergeant sent a round into the back of the man's head, killing him instantly.
Corrigan's muzzle did a quick sweep of the room and settled on an old man in the corner. Even with the relatively grainy image provided by his NVGs, Corrigan had a good idea that this was one of the men they wanted to talk to.
The old man suddenly lunged from the bed and let out a banshee-like scream.
Corrigan almost fired, but at the last second took a quick step to the side and dispatched the charging man with a butt stroke to the temple. One of the other team members joined the master sergeant in the bedroom.
Corrigan turned to the man and said, "Slap a pair of flex cuffs on this one."
"What about the other guy?" asked the trooper as he pointed to the second man lying face down on the floor.
"Dead. Secure his weapon and take up a position on that window." As Corrigan turned to leave the bedroom, he toggled the transmit button on his radio and called out for a situation report. The two teams outside reported the perimeter secure, and the team inside reported two more prisoners in addition to the one that Corrigan had just knocked unconscious.
He'd already noted the absence of shots being fired, but that wouldn't last long. His men all knew what to do. The easy part was over. Now it was time to dig in and wait for the cavalry.
"Remember what the general said," Corrigan said into his lip mike. "Anyone out wandering the streets at three in the morning is probably not looking to welcome us. Engage targets at will and don't be shy."
Nine
WASHINGTON, D.C.
The black limousine pulled up to the curb and a man with a moppish head of brown hair got out. It didn't matter if it was a Monday night or a Friday night, the Smith & Wollensky steakhouse on 19th Street NW was always crowded, and not with just any clientele. This was where D.C.'s big hitters came to eat red meat and drink booze and wine. In a town filled with influential people, many of them millionaires, or about to be millionaires as soon as they left their government jobs, Pat Holmes was at, or near, the very top of the totem pole. He'd made his money running Merrill Lynch's bond department during its heyday in the nineties. His
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