Read Online The Blueprint (The Upgrade Book 1) by Wesley Cross - Free Book Online
Authors: Wesley Cross
Tags: General Fiction
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or two. There’s an internal committee that has to be gathered, some paperwork to sign. Some red tape, but nothing that would create any real delays.”
“Okay,” Jason said, “so what do we do?”
“First, I’d have to call Steve Poznyak, my boss. But if I had to guess, ultimately Mr. Engel would have to make this call.”
“Did you say Poznyak?”
“Why? Do you know him?”
“Never mind,” he said, “let’s do this.”
CHAPTER 10
The snipers took out the two guards watching the front of the compound without any problems. Less than five seconds later a 400 horsepower Peterbilt garbage truck slammed into the front gate, tearing it to pieces along with a security booth, killing another guard in the process. As the emergency lights flooded the front and two more guards rushed out of the house raining lead on the massive vehicle, Johnny’s main forces started scaling the fence in the back of the property.
They collided with three guards by the guest house. One gang member went down, but their sheer numbers overwhelmed the defenders. As Johnny stepped over the guards’ bodies, he pushed a button on his remote control, setting off the charges planted on the driverless garbage truck, instantly killing the guards in the front yard.
The house grew quiet, but he knew there were two more guards left, lurking somewhere in the building, waiting to attack. They watched the house with infra-red goggles for some time trying to figure out where the rest of the guards were hiding, but the walls were giving off a light greenish glow that masked any movement inside.
Finally, frustrated with waiting, Johnny motioned to Boris, a tall muscular kid, to place a small patch of C4 on the back door. Boris was a former Russian boxer, and Johnny loved former boxers.
A mighty bang shook the building and the door blew in, scattering debris all over the large chef’s kitchen. Next went the stun grenades, and Johnny stormed in, machete in his right hand.
His crew split up with him leading half of his men through the west wing and the rest of his gang fanning the east. As he entered a dark corridor, Johnny felt a movement to his right, instinctively ducked, and took a hard swing with his machete. A stifled yelp told him that he had caught the attacker, and as he turned, ready to continue the fight, he saw the guard on the floor, facedown with a huge pool of blood quickly spreading from under the body. Boris caught up to him, and they continued walking through the dark house.
It was when they were slowly making their way through the hallway when another guard tackled him from the shadows and knocked the machete out of his hands, but before the guard had a chance to do anything, Boris was on him like a mad dog.
Both briefly tumbled to the ground, but a moment later the two were circling each other looking for an opportunity. The guard unleashed a series of tight quick punches aiming for ribs and the chin. Left, left, right; left, left, right. Johnny was mesmerized. He had no illusions, despite his quick reflexes, if it were him fighting that man, he would be knocked out by now.
Not Boris. Quick as a cat, he dodged the first onslaught, then his right faked a hook to the ribs, but then connected with the man’s head.
The guard tumbled backward, rolled on the floor to avoid kicks, and jumped to his feet. He kept his hands in front of his face as if he were ready to fight, but Johnny could tell the man was dazed.
Johnny started to slowly circle the two trying to get close to his machete. Boris pushed on, but the guard moved back, avoiding those long hands, and kicked the boxer in the stomach. Boris blocked but not without getting hurt. The two men started to circle each other again, one wary of the opponent’s hands, the other of the enemy’s legs.
Johnny’s fingers wrapped around the machete’s handle as he kept his distance from the fighters. As soon as he saw Boris attack he struck the guard on his thigh. The man cried out in
“Okay,” Jason said, “so what do we do?”
“First, I’d have to call Steve Poznyak, my boss. But if I had to guess, ultimately Mr. Engel would have to make this call.”
“Did you say Poznyak?”
“Why? Do you know him?”
“Never mind,” he said, “let’s do this.”
CHAPTER 10
The snipers took out the two guards watching the front of the compound without any problems. Less than five seconds later a 400 horsepower Peterbilt garbage truck slammed into the front gate, tearing it to pieces along with a security booth, killing another guard in the process. As the emergency lights flooded the front and two more guards rushed out of the house raining lead on the massive vehicle, Johnny’s main forces started scaling the fence in the back of the property.
They collided with three guards by the guest house. One gang member went down, but their sheer numbers overwhelmed the defenders. As Johnny stepped over the guards’ bodies, he pushed a button on his remote control, setting off the charges planted on the driverless garbage truck, instantly killing the guards in the front yard.
The house grew quiet, but he knew there were two more guards left, lurking somewhere in the building, waiting to attack. They watched the house with infra-red goggles for some time trying to figure out where the rest of the guards were hiding, but the walls were giving off a light greenish glow that masked any movement inside.
Finally, frustrated with waiting, Johnny motioned to Boris, a tall muscular kid, to place a small patch of C4 on the back door. Boris was a former Russian boxer, and Johnny loved former boxers.
A mighty bang shook the building and the door blew in, scattering debris all over the large chef’s kitchen. Next went the stun grenades, and Johnny stormed in, machete in his right hand.
His crew split up with him leading half of his men through the west wing and the rest of his gang fanning the east. As he entered a dark corridor, Johnny felt a movement to his right, instinctively ducked, and took a hard swing with his machete. A stifled yelp told him that he had caught the attacker, and as he turned, ready to continue the fight, he saw the guard on the floor, facedown with a huge pool of blood quickly spreading from under the body. Boris caught up to him, and they continued walking through the dark house.
It was when they were slowly making their way through the hallway when another guard tackled him from the shadows and knocked the machete out of his hands, but before the guard had a chance to do anything, Boris was on him like a mad dog.
Both briefly tumbled to the ground, but a moment later the two were circling each other looking for an opportunity. The guard unleashed a series of tight quick punches aiming for ribs and the chin. Left, left, right; left, left, right. Johnny was mesmerized. He had no illusions, despite his quick reflexes, if it were him fighting that man, he would be knocked out by now.
Not Boris. Quick as a cat, he dodged the first onslaught, then his right faked a hook to the ribs, but then connected with the man’s head.
The guard tumbled backward, rolled on the floor to avoid kicks, and jumped to his feet. He kept his hands in front of his face as if he were ready to fight, but Johnny could tell the man was dazed.
Johnny started to slowly circle the two trying to get close to his machete. Boris pushed on, but the guard moved back, avoiding those long hands, and kicked the boxer in the stomach. Boris blocked but not without getting hurt. The two men started to circle each other again, one wary of the opponent’s hands, the other of the enemy’s legs.
Johnny’s fingers wrapped around the machete’s handle as he kept his distance from the fighters. As soon as he saw Boris attack he struck the guard on his thigh. The man cried out in
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