Operation Barracuda (2005) by Tom - Splinter Cell 02 Clancy
Authors: Tom - Splinter Cell 02 Clancy
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unreadable tracks; that is, with each step I wiggle my foot to create unshapely holes and walk unevenly. This way it’s difficult to say just what sort of animal went through the grounds.
“Satellite reception is fuzzy, Sam,” Lambert says in my ear. “Cloudy sky.”
I glance up and reply, “Yeah. Once I’m inside you can watch through my trident goggles.”
“As always. Good luck.”
I’m now in the courtyard and can see the bedroom windows on the second floor. Perfect timing—the light in the wife’s room goes out. Once again I walk like a deranged alien to create unrecognizable prints and make my way to the back door. I remove my set of lock picks from my leg pocket, examine the lock, and determine which picks might work best. The door opens in two tries.
I immediately step inside, find the keypad, and punch in the security code that Harry gave me. It works. I quietly shut the door and stand still for a moment. The house is silent. No sign of a dog anywhere. My night vision goggles are in place and I have no trouble navigating around the furniture in the living room. But as soon as I enter the dining room I hear a muffled ruff in another part of the house. The dog is upstairs. I quickly draw the Five-seveN, already fitted with the flash and sound suppressor, and return to the living room. I can see the staircase beyond an archway at the other end of the room, so I duck behind the sofa. Sure enough, I hear the sound of four paws padding down the stairs. I can see the animal now—he’s huge and looks more like a wolf than a German shepherd. The beast halts at the foot of the stairs. He’s staring into the living room but doesn’t see me. He knows something’s wrong, though, for he’s growling quietly. The dog moves forward slowly, not sure what it is he senses. The growling grows louder. I have one chance at this, for if he sees me he’ll alert the whole neighborhood.
In a smooth, fluid motion, I rise, aim, and squeeze the trigger. The dog spots me but he’s so surprised that I think he forgets to bark. The bullet hits him just above the front right leg. He yelps slightly, turns, emits a low ruff again, and then drops to the floor. The animal is still breathing—he’s just stunned. In a few seconds he’s sound asleep.
Carly can see everything I can through the trident goggles. “Poor doggy,” I hear her say with sarcasm. She can be a kidder when she wants.
The house remains quiet so I stand, go back to the dining room, and find the hallway leading to the office. I find the general’s door locked, so I utilize the lock picks again. This one’s more difficult than the house door; I guess the general is more protective of his personal things than he is of his wife. It takes me nearly three minutes to open the damned thing because there are two dead bolts on the door along with the standard lock.
I’m finally inside. I shut the door and the first thing I see is an awesome collection of antique pistols and rifles mounted on the wall. I recognize one as an Austrian Matchlock caliver from the 1600s. There’s a single-shot muzzle-loading pistol from the early 1800s, probably Russian, that looks brand-new. There’s even a Winchester Model 1873 lever-action repeater rifle. Amazing. They must be worth a small fortune.
I move to the desk, which is impressively neat and tidy, and boot up the computer to take a look at the contents of the general’s hard drive. Since I don’t want to spend too much time in here, I simply plug the OPSAT into one of the computer’s serial ports and upload everything onto it. I then beam all of it to Washington; I’ll let them sort through the files.
Next I open the desk drawers and filing cabinet but find nothing of interest. I then spot a small wall safe next to the desk and get down on my knees to examine it. Normally I would use one of my disposable picks—lock picks with explosive charges in them—to open a safe. They’re quick and dirty, but unnecessarily
“Satellite reception is fuzzy, Sam,” Lambert says in my ear. “Cloudy sky.”
I glance up and reply, “Yeah. Once I’m inside you can watch through my trident goggles.”
“As always. Good luck.”
I’m now in the courtyard and can see the bedroom windows on the second floor. Perfect timing—the light in the wife’s room goes out. Once again I walk like a deranged alien to create unrecognizable prints and make my way to the back door. I remove my set of lock picks from my leg pocket, examine the lock, and determine which picks might work best. The door opens in two tries.
I immediately step inside, find the keypad, and punch in the security code that Harry gave me. It works. I quietly shut the door and stand still for a moment. The house is silent. No sign of a dog anywhere. My night vision goggles are in place and I have no trouble navigating around the furniture in the living room. But as soon as I enter the dining room I hear a muffled ruff in another part of the house. The dog is upstairs. I quickly draw the Five-seveN, already fitted with the flash and sound suppressor, and return to the living room. I can see the staircase beyond an archway at the other end of the room, so I duck behind the sofa. Sure enough, I hear the sound of four paws padding down the stairs. I can see the animal now—he’s huge and looks more like a wolf than a German shepherd. The beast halts at the foot of the stairs. He’s staring into the living room but doesn’t see me. He knows something’s wrong, though, for he’s growling quietly. The dog moves forward slowly, not sure what it is he senses. The growling grows louder. I have one chance at this, for if he sees me he’ll alert the whole neighborhood.
In a smooth, fluid motion, I rise, aim, and squeeze the trigger. The dog spots me but he’s so surprised that I think he forgets to bark. The bullet hits him just above the front right leg. He yelps slightly, turns, emits a low ruff again, and then drops to the floor. The animal is still breathing—he’s just stunned. In a few seconds he’s sound asleep.
Carly can see everything I can through the trident goggles. “Poor doggy,” I hear her say with sarcasm. She can be a kidder when she wants.
The house remains quiet so I stand, go back to the dining room, and find the hallway leading to the office. I find the general’s door locked, so I utilize the lock picks again. This one’s more difficult than the house door; I guess the general is more protective of his personal things than he is of his wife. It takes me nearly three minutes to open the damned thing because there are two dead bolts on the door along with the standard lock.
I’m finally inside. I shut the door and the first thing I see is an awesome collection of antique pistols and rifles mounted on the wall. I recognize one as an Austrian Matchlock caliver from the 1600s. There’s a single-shot muzzle-loading pistol from the early 1800s, probably Russian, that looks brand-new. There’s even a Winchester Model 1873 lever-action repeater rifle. Amazing. They must be worth a small fortune.
I move to the desk, which is impressively neat and tidy, and boot up the computer to take a look at the contents of the general’s hard drive. Since I don’t want to spend too much time in here, I simply plug the OPSAT into one of the computer’s serial ports and upload everything onto it. I then beam all of it to Washington; I’ll let them sort through the files.
Next I open the desk drawers and filing cabinet but find nothing of interest. I then spot a small wall safe next to the desk and get down on my knees to examine it. Normally I would use one of my disposable picks—lock picks with explosive charges in them—to open a safe. They’re quick and dirty, but unnecessarily
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