First to Kill by Andrew Peterson Page A

Understood?”
    The radio clicked once in reply.
    Ernie grabbed an M-4 and ran to the rear door. “He shouldn’t be out there alone. I’ll go get him.”
    “Wait!” Leonard yelled, but his brother was already outside.
    * * *
    Nathan took two clicks off the elevation knob, aimed for a spot twenty feet in front of the lead SWAT man, and squeezed the trigger.
    His rifle jumped.
    Nearly 2,000 feet distant, the ground erupted in front of the lead SWAT member. Both teams instantly dropped to the ground. Four seconds later, at least eight claymore antipersonnel mines detonated simultaneously.
    From high above, the effect was horrifying to watch. As if coming alive, the forest shuddered as though a giant shiver had raked across its body. The concussive thump of the blasts reached their position a full second later. An area the size of a football field had been turned into a maelstrom of flying dirt, rocks, and splintered tree branches. An angry cloud of dust began drifting down the valley toward the west. Nathan swung his rifle in the same direction of the wind and saw the other SWAT team on the ground. If there were more claymores, they hadn’t been detonated yet. The answer came five seconds later. Another giant concussion shook the forest to the west, followed by a third to the east and a fourth to the north. The compound now looked like a huge doughnut, untouched in the middle, total mayhem on the outside.
    As Nathan tapped his memory for what he knew about the devices, a curved block of C4 explosive blew hundreds of steel balls outward in a 60-degree pattern. Like its Scottish broadsword namesake, the claymore could literally cut a swath through the ranks. If those guys hadn’t been on the ground…
    “I want that shit bird in the tree,” Nathan said. “He just tried to frag a dozen federal agents.”
    “We can’t see him until the dust clears.”
    “Break out your RF detector, let’s see if the good guys are talking.”
    Harv reached to his right and grabbed the detector out of his pack and turned it on. “I’d say so, we’ve got a spike in the fifteen-megahertz range, signal’s close by. It wasn’t there before.”
    “Can we listen?” But Nathan already knew the answer.
    “No way, encrypted for sure.”
    “There might be a second ring of claymores down there.”
    “Probably is. At least the feds are aware of them now. We saved a bunch of lives with that warning shot.”
    Nathan grunted. He wanted that spotter in the tree.
    The sound from sporadic bursts of automatic gunfire reached their position, sounding like firecrackers. “Here we go,” Nathan said. “Windage.”
    Harv had already given him four clicks right. From the speed of the dust cloud moving toward the west, Harv gave him one more click right.
    “Corrections to the tree stand,” Nathan said.
    “Give me the two clicks back on elevation plus one more and give me a final click right. A few more seconds, I can almost see him.… Got him. Nate, he’s got a rifle. He’s lining up on the SWAT teams.”
    Nathan swung his weapon back to the tree and saw the man bench resting his rifle on the rail of the tree platform, taking careful aim. He was dressed in cheap catalog camo with shiny black boots. His ball cap masked his facial features, but Nathan had the impression he was young, maybe mid-twenties. He moved the crosshairs onto the man’s chest, took a deep breath, and blew half of it out.
    * * *
    Ernie had made it halfway to Sammy’s tree stand when the first salvo of claymores detonated to his right. For a split second, the air seemed to shimmer as if suspended in time. Then the concussive shock wave vibrated his body like a bowstring. Knowing more blasts were coming, Ernie crouched down and covered his ears. The ground shuddered and shook with each progressive detonation surrounding him. The perimeter of Freedom’s Echo disappeared into a choking cloud of dust and flying debris.
    Ernie called, “Get down, Sammy. Come on.”
    “I can