Free Betrayal by Will Jordan Page A

situation countless times before, preparing to make entry to a building with no idea what was on the other side of the door, wondering if they were going to be fired upon at any moment, anxiously watching every corner, every shadowy recess.
    Taking another breath and wiping the rainwater out of his eyes, Drake rounded the corner and advanced towards lock-up D7. At the same moment he spotted the two operatives moving in from the opposite intersection, weapons up and ready.
    As they had said, there was no sign of any activity in the lock-up. The rolling steel doors were down and locked. Drake couldn’t tell if there were any lights on inside.
    ‘Telford, get that breaching gun ready,’ O’Rourke ordered, motioning forward one of the operatives armed with a heavy-gauge shotgun. ‘Flashbangs on standby. Everyone ready?’
    Before anyone could reply, they froze as an engine suddenly rumbled into life inside the lock-up. Someone had just started up a vehicle in there.
    ‘They’re getting ready to move!’ Drake hissed, realising the priceless opportunity that now presented itself. In order to leave, they would have to open the lock-up doors. ‘Flashbangs on my order. Everyone else get ready to move in. Understand?’
    He was met by a round of affirmatives. Backing up beside the lock-up, Drake checked his weapon and waited, his heart pounding. Adrenalin was keeping his body temperature up, allowing him to ignore the freezing rain that had by now soaked him to the skin.
    All his attention was now focused on the steel doors beside him.
    He heard an electronic buzz from inside, and suddenly the doors began to roll upwards, their metal links folding around the mechanism at the top as the winch inside clanked and groaned under the strain. Harsh light spilled out from the gap now opened – headlights from the vehicle or internal lighting, he couldn’t tell.
    Either way, he’d seen enough.
    ‘Breach!’ he called out. ‘Flash out!’
    Stepping out from cover, two of O’Rourke’s operatives pulled the pins on their stun grenades and tossed the little metal cylinders in through the gap. There was a pause, perhaps a second or so, followed by twin explosions that echoed around the confined space of the storage lock-up like the crack of thunder.
    The flashbang grenades, producing a blinding flash of light and a concussive boom designed to temporarily blind and deafen potential enemies, would hopefully buy the assault team a few precious seconds to move in.
    They didn’t waste a heartbeat.
    ‘Go! Go!’ Drake yelled, ducking beneath the doors that were still rising, his weapon immediately sweeping the interior of the storage lock-up. The reek of burned chemicals from the grenades stung his eyes and nostrils, but he ignored it, concentrating instead on taking in his surroundings.
    The big storage lock-up, bare brick walls and a corrugated-metal roof, was dominated by the blue Chevrolet Express van that sat to one side, its bodywork still dripping from the recent rain. The engine was idling, the headlights almost blinding in their intensity, yet even as he advanced he saw a figure stagger out from behind the vehicle.
    Dressed in a set of plain blue overalls that reminded Drake of a courier or delivery company, he was holding one hand against his ear and blinking furiously. Clearly the blast from the flashbang had deafened him and probably overloaded the photoreceptors in his eyes. His unsteady gait suggested the grenade had also disturbed his equilibrium.
    ‘Don’t move!’ Drake yelled, levelling his weapon at the man’s centre mass. ‘Get down on the ground!’
    But his target had no intention of surrendering. Drake saw him reach for something in his overalls, saw the glint of a weapon as he brought it up to fire.
    There was no choice. Without hesitation Drake put two rounds in his chest, the Sig kicking back in his hands as the rounds discharged. He saw an explosion of red mist exit from the man’s back, heard an almost