Angels Don't Die (Madeleine Toche Series Book 2) by Soren Petrek Page A
Authors: Soren Petrek
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PLO safe house. The street was dark. There were a few lights on in remote windows, but none in the immediate area. Madeleine was dressed in black, her hair tied back and hidden beneath a dark cap. She moved across the street and paused just outside the doorway. She was pleased to note that her night vision and hearing were as sharp as ever. She had memorized the layout of the house at first by drawing it and then rehearsing her movements again and again in her mind.
Madeleine moved around the perimeter of the home until she saw what she had seen a number of times before, a second floor window was open to the night air and anything else that might come in. She easily climbed the short way to the open window over the irregular whitewashed brick wall. She paused at the bottom of the window, hanging from her hands, slowly pulling herself up so that only her eyes and ears were level with the windowsill. She waited for several long moments, hearing the regular breathing of men inside, asleep in the three upstairs rooms. Hearing no movement, Madeleine entered through the open window, keeping her profile towards the hallway where the rooms were lined up next to one another.
Straddling the sill, she removed a silenced pistol from a holster under her shirt. She drew the pistol and pointed it in the direction of the first room and stepped through the window into the hallway. She took out a small penlight clipped to the inside of her pants, and walked towards the first bedroom door. It was ajar, allowing the night air to circulate. Madeleine listened, projecting her hearing into the room. She heard even breathing, patiently allowing a full minute before entering the room and gently closing the door behind her. Madeleine placed her finger over the light aperture at the end of the penlight and activated the switch. The room was small and she took two careful steps towards the end of the bed where she heard the occupant’s soft snores.
Leveling both the pistol and the pen light in the direction of the man’s head, she slid her finger off the end of the light illuminating the man’s face. It was not the man she had singled out for interrogation. With tiny spits from the silencer, Madeleine put two bullets into the man’s head, without hesitation, then doused the light and shifted towards the door, the movements of her body in concert like a dance.
Madeleine dispatched the man in the second room in the same manner. The occupant of the third room was the man she was after. She hadn’t seen him leave while she waited for two long hours on the roof of the café. She needed to keep him alive for now. Jack’s MI6 counterparts had provided her with several drug ampoules loaded with quick acting chemicals that would incapacitate a person within seconds. Madeleine moved into the doorway and towards the bed. She withdrew an ampoule from her pocket, snapping open the plastic covering the short needle. She plunged the ampoule into the man’s neck, next to his jugular vein. Her pistol was pointed at the man’s head. He opened his eyes long enough for them to roll back in his head and then close as the drug hit his brain.
Madeleine waited a full minute before she prodded his body with the end of her silencer. He was limp. Only then did she take some slender nylon rope from another pocket and expertly bind the man’s hands and feet, making it impossible for him to move. She gagged him with an undershirt she found at the foot of the bed. Even if the drugs failed, and he woke up before she could complete her mission, he would be secure until she returned to question him.
Making her way down the stairs, Madeleine did a mental count of the number of bullets left in her primary weapon and the second held under her shirt. There might be as many as four or five other occupants of the house, she thought, as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Madeleine both sensed and heard movement from one of
Madeleine moved around the perimeter of the home until she saw what she had seen a number of times before, a second floor window was open to the night air and anything else that might come in. She easily climbed the short way to the open window over the irregular whitewashed brick wall. She paused at the bottom of the window, hanging from her hands, slowly pulling herself up so that only her eyes and ears were level with the windowsill. She waited for several long moments, hearing the regular breathing of men inside, asleep in the three upstairs rooms. Hearing no movement, Madeleine entered through the open window, keeping her profile towards the hallway where the rooms were lined up next to one another.
Straddling the sill, she removed a silenced pistol from a holster under her shirt. She drew the pistol and pointed it in the direction of the first room and stepped through the window into the hallway. She took out a small penlight clipped to the inside of her pants, and walked towards the first bedroom door. It was ajar, allowing the night air to circulate. Madeleine listened, projecting her hearing into the room. She heard even breathing, patiently allowing a full minute before entering the room and gently closing the door behind her. Madeleine placed her finger over the light aperture at the end of the penlight and activated the switch. The room was small and she took two careful steps towards the end of the bed where she heard the occupant’s soft snores.
Leveling both the pistol and the pen light in the direction of the man’s head, she slid her finger off the end of the light illuminating the man’s face. It was not the man she had singled out for interrogation. With tiny spits from the silencer, Madeleine put two bullets into the man’s head, without hesitation, then doused the light and shifted towards the door, the movements of her body in concert like a dance.
Madeleine dispatched the man in the second room in the same manner. The occupant of the third room was the man she was after. She hadn’t seen him leave while she waited for two long hours on the roof of the café. She needed to keep him alive for now. Jack’s MI6 counterparts had provided her with several drug ampoules loaded with quick acting chemicals that would incapacitate a person within seconds. Madeleine moved into the doorway and towards the bed. She withdrew an ampoule from her pocket, snapping open the plastic covering the short needle. She plunged the ampoule into the man’s neck, next to his jugular vein. Her pistol was pointed at the man’s head. He opened his eyes long enough for them to roll back in his head and then close as the drug hit his brain.
Madeleine waited a full minute before she prodded his body with the end of her silencer. He was limp. Only then did she take some slender nylon rope from another pocket and expertly bind the man’s hands and feet, making it impossible for him to move. She gagged him with an undershirt she found at the foot of the bed. Even if the drugs failed, and he woke up before she could complete her mission, he would be secure until she returned to question him.
Making her way down the stairs, Madeleine did a mental count of the number of bullets left in her primary weapon and the second held under her shirt. There might be as many as four or five other occupants of the house, she thought, as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Madeleine both sensed and heard movement from one of
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