That Time in Rio by Logan Ryles (best book series to read txt) 📕

we’ll be out of here before sunrise, or they found the tracker and intentionally allowed it to transmit, which makes this a trap.”

Wolfgang followed Kevin’s logic, searching for any obvious holes, but there were none. Kevin rarely spoke in their pre-mission meetings, and when he did, it was usually to make snide comments or complain about something trivial. This time, however, what he said made sense, and it was concerning.

“You could be right,” Megan said. “What do you propose?”

Kevin leaned over the map, circling the general vicinity of the favelas with his finger.

“In Afghanistan, Army Rangers conducted a number of joint missions with Navy Seals and other spec ops soldiers to track down terrorist leaders. The strategy was simple. They infiltrated the region slowly, developed relationships with the locals, and relied on native informants to lead them to their targets. These indigenous communities are often tight-knit and dependent on one another. They notice outsiders, and they know their own territory better than anyone. We should start with the locals and gain intelligence on what’s happening in the favelas. It’ll take longer, but it’s much more likely to end in our favor.”

Wolfgang listened intently, noting how Kevin said they instead of we when referring to the Army Ranger operations in Afghanistan. It made him more curious about what Kevin had experienced and why he didn’t want to talk about it.

Edric studied the map, then shook his head. “I hear you, but we don’t have that kind of time. There’s only two hours left on the clock before the deadline. What you’re suggesting could take weeks.”

“Which is why SPIRE needs to stall the kidnappers,” Kevin said. “Just a couple days. Give us time to map out the region and make a contact. Somebody who speaks both Portuguese and English and understands the favelas. Somebody who can—”

Edric held up a hand. “It’s not happening, Kev. We’re moving now, before the clock expires. Our orders are clear.”

Wolfgang noticed the muscles in Kevin’s jaw twitching, but he said nothing.

Edric turned back to Lyle. “What have we got in the way of surveillance?”

“I’ve arranged for us to have a live satellite feed, but there're problems with a delay in the signal. I’ve been working on it all night and got it down to about six seconds, on average. It’s not perfect, but at least it gives us a little overwatch. I’ll need a place to set up the computers.”

“You can do that here,” Edric said. “We’ll use the car to infiltrate the favela while you provide surveillance support and communications from behind. After we reach the favela where the necklace is located, we’ll have to leave the car so that we can close in on the beacon without being noticed. By then, it’ll be dark, so at least we’ve got that going for us. Kevin, you and I will take point. Megan and Wolfgang will provide close-quarters support.”

Edric folded up the map and gestured to the table. “We’ll be going in hot, but we don’t want to draw attention. Wear the body armor and take the weapons, but conceal them. There are extra clothes in the trunk of the car.”

Edric stepped away from the group, drawing a cigarette from his pocket. Wolfgang had never seen him smoke before, but he’d never seen him under this level of pressure, either. Kevin followed Edric, and for a moment the two of them argued in the shadows. Wolfgang couldn’t hear the words, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to guess what the disagreement was about.

Wolfgang turned back to the table and sifted through the weapons, the knot in his stomach growing. He’d never been in combat before, and even though he was religious about keeping his pistol close to hand, he’d never actually killed anybody, either. SPIRE was an espionage organization, not a combat one.

He lifted one of the UMP submachine guns from the table and felt the weight. It was lighter than he expected, with a plastic grip and plastic stock—almost like a toy, except for the black mouth of the muzzle pointing toward the wall of the warehouse like a doorway to Hell.

“You know how to use that?” Megan asked, her voice quiet.

Wolfgang studied the gun, noting the position of the charging handle, magazine release, and safety switch. He laid it back down on the table. “Yeah, I can use it.”

“Good,” she said. “Let’s hope you don’t have to.”

Twenty minutes later, Lyle had completed his computer setup, and the others were fully equipped. Wolfgang slid on a set of Kevlar soft body armor, then strapped a Beretta 92 pistol in a shoulder holster on top. He also selected the UMP, along with a magazine satchel that contained four extra magazines of .45-caliber ammunition. Then he pulled on a pair of boots from the Impala’s trunk, which he was surprised to find fit perfectly, threw a light jacket over the entire array, and dropped a knife, a bottle of water, and a flashlight into the oversized pockets of the jacket.

He didn’t feel like a warrior—not even close. He didn’t even feel particularly prepared for a home invasion, but when he saw Kevin standing nearby, fully equipped with a SCAR rifle, a Glock handgun, and enough ammunition to feed them both for hours, he felt better. Kevin was the picture of a warrior, and now that he wore the body armor and the weapons, Wolfgang found it easy to imagine him as an Army Ranger.

At least he knows what he’s doing.

Wolfgang’s attention shifted to Megan, and his confidence instantly plummeted. She also wore body armor and carried a UMP, but the gear was hopelessly oversized on her petite body, hanging off her shoulders and sliding around as she walked. The boots she found in the car's trunk were also oversized, and even the flashlight she selected from the gear pile looked big in her small hands. Wolfgang had worked with Megan long enough to know that she was extremely competent, but something about the prospect of