Reacher and Roscoe set off first to search for the missing persons, while the others packed their equipnt. Ray King, in the na of the IRS, obtained several bulletproof vests and communicators for them, as there were several more enthusiastic citizens participating in the operation than originally expected.
Jack switched back to his Firebird and set off first with Braxton; the others would follow later, heading directly to the vicinity of Kleiner's ranch to lie in wait.
Dana and Ray King remained in Atlanta to contact and coordinate the IRS reinforcents that would arrive later, preparing for the subsequent raid.
The Kleiner family's businesses spanned Georgia; taking down their stronghold in Margrave was the end for everyone, but for the IRS, it was just the beginning.
Finlay confird everything was going smoothly. At the police station, he hinted to Stevenson that he knew the whereabouts of the Hubble family and arranged to et at his house at 8 PM. All of this was witnessed by the old man, Baker.
At 7:55 PM, Finlay's Ford appeared in front of Stevenson's house. In the nearby woods, Jack's Firebird was parked with its engine off.
Jack and Braxton sat in the car, observing their surroundings, worried that Kleiner's n might make a move prematurely. They were lying in wait for Finlay to co to their door; they would wait there after dark.
Seeing Finlay get out of the car, co to the house, and knock on the door, Braxton, holding binoculars, looked back at Jack with so suspicion, then glanced down at his own clothes.
"Is there sothing wrong with this guy? This is the South, and he's wearing a wool suit?"
Jack suppressed a laugh. Having spent the last few days with this guy, he also felt that Finlay's incongruity with this small town wasn't without reason.
"Maybe it's because he's from Boston."
The two chatted idly for a while, and soon Braxton, who had been observing their surroundings with binoculars, suddenly said, "They're here. Two cars, a Ford pickup truck and a GMC minivan."
Jack squinted at the main road. The pickup truck was in front, the GMC behind; both vehicles had just left the highway and were turning onto the path leading to the Stevenson house.
The two vehicles were moving slowly, and they turned off their headlights as they turned.
"Get ready to move." Jack pressed the button on his phone, which he had been clutching, and sent a pre-edited ssage to Finlay.
He shoved the phone back into his pocket, and the two n, each carrying an HK416 equipped with a silencer and scope, ducked into the bushes thirty or forty ters away from the house — a spot they had chosen upon arrival.
The distance was perfect; it was in a blind spot for vehicles entering the path, and the field of fire was excellent, completely covering the front door of the house.
The two vehicles slowly pulled up on the lawn in front of the house. From the lead Ford pickup truck, a bald, elderly policeman still in uniform stepped out — it was Baker.
Four n got out of the GMC Canyon, dressed in white protective suits and matching white rubber boots. Leading them was Dawson, Kleiner's mad cousin. He had a pistol on his hip and a crowbar in his hand; the others carried shotguns and tool bags — undoubtedly filled with their torture equipnt.
Jack pursed his lips, sowhat disappointed that Kleiner hadn't co this ti. He had hoped to deal with that scum here.
Dawson held up a finger, pointing at Baker and then at the Stevenson's front door, gesturing for him to go and trick them into opening it. Unbeknownst to him, two silenced HK416s were already aid at their backs not far behind them.
"Leave two alive. That bald cop and the kid with the crowbar are still useful. Don't kill them outright," Jack whispered to Braxton.
The other party nodded slightly, indicating that he understood. Although the targets had been tacitly assigned, Jack knew this guy's style — once he made a move, he never left anyone alive. He worried that if they rushed in, the guy would casually finish them off with a shot.
At the sa ti, Baker had already hesitantly walked up the steps, raised his hand to knock on the door, and the other four followed closely behind, standing against the wall at the doorway, ready to rush in and subdue the person inside as soon as they opened the door. Just as the door was knocked, the lights that had been on inside suddenly went out simultaneously, with only a porch lamp still dimly lit.
The situation inside and outside the house instantly reversed; the previous bright inside and dark outside beca dark inside and bright outside in a second.
The sudden change left the assassins outside sowhat bewildered. As they looked at each other blankly, with several muffled sounds, the five n standing outside didn't even have ti to scream before they were all shot and fell down.
Both n were top-notch marksn, hitting vital areas like the back or side. After the bullets pierced the lungs, the wounded could only groan in pain.
"Go!" Jack shouted, leaping from the bushes alongside Braxton. In less than five or six seconds, they were upon the target.
"Bang! Bang!"
They began firing as they ran, focusing on the two gunn behind them, aiming for headshots. Those shotguns had no silencers; once the trigger was pulled, the sound could be heard for kiloters.
Reaching the porch, Jack saw Dawson had been shot in the right back, blood gushing from his mouth, struggling to pull his pistol from his back. Without hesitation, Jack smashed it down with the butt of his rifle.
"Finlay, open the door, it's over."
The door opened, and Finlay, looking tense, glanced around, holding a Browning 1911. The next second, he was startled by the corpses scattered on the floor in front of him.
Stevenson, standing behind him, also held a shotgun, on guard. His wife cowered behind him in fear, both their faces deathly pale.
Before she could even scream at the sight of the carnage, her husband shoved a hand over her mouth and dragged her into the inner room.
"Co help," Jack glared at the still-stunned Finlay, dragging the unconscious Dawson inside. Braxton, behind him, tossed in Baker, who was also vomiting blood.
"Stop the bleeding first, then give them this," Jack said, handing Finlay two syringes of adrenaline he'd stolen from the hospital.
"I'll help too," Stevenson said, helping his wife into the inner room before erging. Though still pale, he was a police officer and not easily terrified by the scene.
After handing the two half-dead n over to Finlay and Stevenson, Jack and Braxton turned and went outside, loading the three bodies into the pickup truck Baker had driven, then covering them with the tarpaulin.
When the two returned inside and closed the door, they saw Baker grabbing Stevenson's hand, pleading for help.
"Help , I don't want to die. Our families have known each other since you were a kid delivering newspapers. Please, my aunt was your wife's high school teacher."
"So you brought Kleiner's assassin to visit this family? You know his wife is pregnant, right?" Jack glanced at the bewildered Stevenson and said.
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