She glanced over her shoulder at Wynn. “I’ve got a plan.”
Wynn coughed. “Am I going to like it?”
“Probably not, but…” She inhaled when the cable slipped again, the ear-piercing shriek grating on her nerves. “We’re running out of time. I know Coulter’s on his way, but we’re either going to fall or get picked off by whoever’s behind the scope.”
“Just tell me what you need me to do.”
Neve glanced out the open door, judging the oscillation. “See that catwalk? It’s only about four feet away when the lift spins towards it. I’m going to brace my weight, then jump. As soon as I push off, you’ll need to spread out, try to keep the cage from shifting too much, dislodging it more.”
Wynn inhaled, her face bathed in that eerie green light from the night vision. “Neve, I’m not sure?—”
“You can do it. And I’ll be on the other side to grab you if you miss. Promise.”
“Right. You’ll just snatch me out of thin air.”
“Air’s actually feeling pretty thick.” She squeezed Wynn’s hand. “Just pretend we’re only a few feet off the ground.”
“Ignore the gaping black chasm beneath me. Got it.”
“We’ll be fine…” Neve curled over Wynn when that asshole took another shot. “Ready?”
“Let’s do this.”
The cage made another circle, each rotation slowly winding in on itself, and Neve knew if they didn’t go now, they’d never make the jump.
She eased forward, using a full rotation to position herself at the door, torn between wanting to maintain a bit of cover from the sniper but needing to be on the edge by the time it rolled around. She clutched the outside of the frame, shifting her weight onto the balls of her feet as Wynn countered her movements, spreading her feet wider across the bottom. The lift arced around, that gap looking like a chasm she couldn’t jump when it swung in close, the door creaking in the wind.
A pause, then she pushed off, launching herself at the railing, breath held, the cold wind cutting across her face. She hit the upper section chest high, ribs crunching, knocking the wind out of her as she wrapped her arms over the smooth metal, finally dragging her body up and over the side.
The grating clanged beneath her boots, her lungs taking a while before she sucked in a breath, got everything working again. The cable slipped another foot, more strands shearing from the strain.
Wynn stood in the middle, fingers clamped around the wire frame, eyes wide. She didn’t move for a couple rotations before finally sliding forward, keeping her weight centered over the bottom. She copied Neve’s approach, wrapping her hands around the outer frame, the toes of her boots hanging off the front edge. She braced herself, missed the first opportunity, but launched out the opening on the second, arms stretched out, her hands clawing at the air.
One boot slid off the edge, ruining her momentum and robbing her of that final foot. Neve reached out, catching her wrist as she swung against the rail, boots kicking at nothing, the weight of her med kit pulling her down. Neve’s shoulder screamed, close to slipping out of the socket when she managed to grab the handle on the back of Wynn’s vest, yanking her up and over the rail.
They fell onto the grating.
Adrenaline coursed through her veins, every sense dialed up to eleven. Just like after Fraser only sharper.
She hauled Wynn to her feet, grabbed her hand when the cage rattled, the cable finally slipping free. It fell, smashing into the pit floor with a massive, echoing crash that clenched her stomach. If they hadn’t already announced their location, the sound would have every soldier in the complex zeroed in on them.
Her cue to move — shove Wynn toward the section joining the second tier as flashlights and IR beams swept the face. Neve hit the rocky bench running flat out, Wynn keeping pace behind her, their boots kicking up mud and stones as they headed for the mock urban training grounds — an eerie collection of plywood and shipping container structures laid out in a labyrinth to simulate close quarters battle training.
They wove through the buildings, avoiding the ones without roofs or doors, finally opting for a modified container that hung several feet off the edge of the granite face, offering hard cover and views of the cliff and parts of the upper level. The interior reeked of leaching rust and accumulated sweat, and what looked like dried puddles of blood stained across the floor.
Neve moved through the main section then up to the top floor, blocking off the stairs with a set of metal doors. A large catwalk linked this container to the one beside it, a side-chute leading to a higher platform.
Wynn stood next to one of the windows, staring into the darkness. “There’re more flashlights and IR beams above and below us. Looks like maybe five men.”
Neve removed her sniper rifle, set up next to Wynn. “Coulter will be somewhere on those ladders, trying to reach us. Zero cover. Zero backup. And I have a bad feeling we’re not the only one who’s anticipating that.”
She removed her goggles, settled the IR scope to her left eye. “Come on, baby. Where are you?”
The cliff lit up in shades of black and white, a nice contrast to the older green hue she’d just been using, as she panned along the side of the quarry. But the rain scattered the ambient light, reducing her visibility to half of what she’d normally have.
She retrieved a thermal optic from the side pouch of her vest, zeroing in on objects with it before matching it with her scope — hoping the combined effort would identify Coulter from the other men.
It took her a minute to locate him scaling one of the maintenance ladders, rifle slung over his shoulder, no chance at defending himself without stopping first to draw his Sig. She repeated her search, identifying three men moving across the pit floor, angling toward the base of the same ladder with another two on the upper level, muzzles flashing in the night as they started up suppressive fire, trying to pick off Coulter.