by Vicki Hinze
Great, she didn’t need this right now. She called after him. “You’d better get Medical to take a look at that knee.”
He didn’t even look back.
Will said softly. “Aren’t you going after him, Maggie?”
“No.” She stiffened against wanting to do just that, shoved her hair back from her face and hit the sore spot on her head. Wincing, she flinched. “I’m not—”
“Maggie,” Darcy cut in, claiming her attention. “Go to private frequency—now.”
What could Darcy possibly have to say about this that needed to be relayed one-on-one? Maggie flipped over to it, her fingers shaking. “Yeah.”
“For the record, Justin went down before you did. There’s no way he could’ve attacked you. Someone else was already inside the short-stack, and is still inside it. I thought you’d want to know.”
Wonderful. Trust. Again with trust. Couldn’t her nagging issues cut her a little slack even just once in a while? “Thanks.” Spit. Now she felt like a skanky lowlife slug for doubting him—even if it was her job to doubt everyone. Crud. Crud. Crud.
She’d apologize to him, of course. But it wouldn’t be enough. It had never been enough.
“Heads up. Here we go again,” Darcy said, then paused. When she came back, it was on a general frequency. “Unauthorized entry.” Her tone hardened. “Level One, Door Two. Repeat. Unauthorized entry. Level One, Door Two. Two male suspects, both carrying handled Krane’s shopping bags, and—oh, man—both of them are wearing yellow jackets. These men are not valid mall employees, Security staff, HAZMAT personnel or members of the snow crew. Deduction—they are hostiles. Recommend immediate intercept. Repeat. Suspects are considered hostiles. Recommend immediate intercept.”
Justin appeared from around the corner, hobbling to protect his bad knee. Maggie took off for the stairs in a wide-open run. Shoving past shoppers, she pushed her way down. “Excuse me.” She sideswiped a man wearing a Santa hat. “So sorry. Excuse me.”
She rounded the Level Two landing and grabbed the stairway banister. “Coming through. Coming through.” She shouldered down the stairs, urged people to move aside with a sweep of her hand. “Excuse me. Excuse me. Coming through.”
While Homeland Security and the Terrorist Threat Integration Center wouldn’t consider the incidents occurring at Santa Bella today conclusive proof of a GRID attack and the evidence sufficient to warrant immediate and forced intervention, Maggie believed the incidents proved conclusively the realization of her deepest fears:
Kunz’s henchmen had successfully invaded Santa Bella Mall and were now in position to launch their capabilities demonstration.
Chapter Nine
Maggie circled Center Court. Level One, Door Two was to its northwest. She wound through the food court and spotted the two men.
“Suspects are at five o’clock, Maggie,” Darcy said.
Both men were in their mid-forties, both dark-haired and skinned, and wearing yellow jackets. And they both carried the handled Krane’s shopping bags. “I’ve got a visual,” Maggie said softly.
“I’m picking them up on your pin as well as on the fixed monitor,” Darcy said.
Maggie hung back. The men didn’t appear suspicious, strolling along in no particular hurry, walking shoulder-to-shoulder and talking between themselves. “Darcy, I’m reluctant to intercept until we see what they have in mind. Does the colonel object to holding off?”
A moment lapsed, then, “No, unless they put someone else in jeopardy. Judgment call.”
Justin arrived beside her. She was impressed he had caught up so quickly. “Justin, can you distract the guy on the left? I’ll take the one on the right.”
“You want to intercept them, then?” He sounded confused.
“No. I just want to see what they’re carrying.”
“Okay, but be careful,” he said. “They could be armed.” Again, he forgot that she was the expert, and again, rather than annoying, she found his reminder endearing. She sidestepped a stroller of twin girls and circled a mom bent over wiping a runny nose with a tissue. “I doubt it. Kunz is never this obvious. He has a penchant for body doubles, subterfuge and subtlety. Torture aside, he never gets in your face with what he’s doing.”
“Your Dr. Morgan Cabot would applaud you pegging that behavioral note.” Justin smiled. “Interesting.”
“I missed a step. What’s interesting?”
“Who,” he corrected her. “Kunz. You, you’re captivating. Kunz is merely interesting.”
Captivating? Her? She tried the feeling on for a second and enjoyed it way too much to let it go. “Sorry to have to disagree with you—even in part—but Kunz isn’t merely anything. He’s way too sinister and dangerous for something that tame and mild.”
“Even so, he’s interesting.”
A moment of sheer frustration leveled her. Twice, S.A.S.S. believed it had arrested Kunz and imprisoned him in Leavenworth only to find it had his doubles incarcerated instead. A third time, S.A.S.S. had killed one of his body doubles and had never even seen the real Kunz—and that had been on a major operation where they’d seized technology and weapons with a street value of $402 million. Kunz was majorly frustrating. “Okay, be interested in him later. For now, you take the guy on the left.”
“I’ve got him.” Justin fell into step behind the pair. Maggie approached from the right and, when Justin stepped up behind and between the two men, she smacked into the right man’s shoulder, knocking the shopping bag out of his hand.
It was empty.
“Excuse me,” she said, giving the man a dopey smile, and then walked on. Out of earshot she whispered, “See anything, Justin?”
“Lefty’s bag is empty, too.” Justin walked past her, skimming their shoulders. “So do we take them down now?”
“For what?” Maggie asked. “Carrying Krane’s shopping bags in a shopping mall or wearing yellow jackets?”
Darcy intervened. “Direct order, Maggie. Monitor, but do not intercept Insufficient cause to detain.”
“Darcy, relay to Will.”
Will Stanton responded. “Security’s monitoring.”
Picking up her two-way, Maggie said, “Try to keep your distance, Will. If they notice you, they’ll bail. I’d like to know where they’re going and what they’re going to do.” Maggie paused near a small knot of people on the outer circle of the pit under the guise of watching the children play in the snow. “Darcy, where is the female shopper the FBI’s tagging? Last report, she had left the hotel and was en route somewhere.”
“She went to the grocery store, picked up cigarettes, two cans of generic peas and a bag of potato chips, then returned to the hotel. She’s parked in her room.”
“And the men?”
“Locals turned FBI onto the first one. They spotted him while watching the woman. He’s in a room at the same hotel. I’m waiting for an updated report on the second male, Mr. Ponytail.”
Justin came up beside her. “You look extremely tense, Maggie. Does your head hurt?”
It did. But she ignored acknowledging it for fear it’d just hurt more. “It’s the willies,” she admitted, bristling. “I hate it when I get the willies.”
He didn’t look or seem angry anymore, but he had been—justifiably so. “Justin, about before...” She risked a glance up at him. “I’m sorry.” Now that she’d opened the door, she steeled herself for the recriminations sure to come. Unfortunately they always had. Now that she’d accepted guilt, he’d hold blame over her head for the duration.
“We’re all wound up pretty tight.” Justin squeezed her shoulder. “Let’s just forget it.”
Maggie didn’t believe her ears. She looked up and over at him, sure she’d misheard him.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” He seemed confused. “Did I say something to tick you off again?”
“No. No, not at all.”
“Well, what is it? I can’t read you, Maggie, and I’m feeling like an alien.”
The
words tumbled out of her mouth before she thought to censor them. “I’m beginning to think that’s exactly what you are.”
He studied her a long moment, then his lip tipped a bit.
“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” he said. “But only because you look completely stunned.”
“I—I didn’t expect...” She couldn’t admit this. He wouldn’t understand. How could a man who reacted as he did comprehend what she expected?
“What?” He waited, but she didn’t say, and his expression softened. “You can tell me. Whatever it is, it’s okay.”
Her mouth went dry. “I didn’t expect your reaction.” She glanced from his jaw to his eyes. “You surprise me, Justin. Often.”
“One of the benefits of being considered scum. No way to go but up.”
Her jaw dropped loose and Justin laughed.
“She wears surprise well, doesn’t she, Justin?” Darcy said, an amused, indulgent lilt in her voice. “Sorry, I just couldn’t restrain myself another second.”
“She does,” he agreed. “No apology necessary, Darcy. I’m learning fast that interest in one of you makes everything a man says or does fair game for all of you.”
“Just about,” Kate said, a slight warning in her tone that, gauging by his smile, didn’t offend but amused Justin.
Her meaning wasn’t lost on him. “You can relax, Kate. Only a fool would take on a pack of women who collectively know a thousand ways to kill a man.”
Will Stanton’s voice came through the two-way. “Stand down, Maggie. Justin. Suspects have exited the mall and gotten into a late-model white Ford van in the south parking garage. No distinct markings, Florida tag number M23PAD. Local police have intercepted.”
“Darcy, run the tag and alert the FBI.” Maybe these two would beat a path to the same hotel as the first male and female shoppers, and then S.A.S.S. could start connecting some of the dots on this mission.
“In progress, Maggie.”
“What is Kunz doing?” Justin asked. “These shoppers with the empty bags. It makes no sense.”
“He’s watching to see what we’re doing,” Maggie answered. “And monitoring how we respond to what he’s doing. Over the past year, he’s obtained substantial insights into our procedures and protocols. We’re not the only ones who learn from experience. He’s learned, too.”
“Then what do you think this shopping bag business is about?” Justin persisted, fighting to make some kind of sense of this. “I’ll be darned if I can grip this man’s logic.”
“I think he’s baiting us,” Maggie openly admitted. Unfortunately it was the only thing that fit. He’d probably gotten a couple good laughs at her expense, trying to determine if the bag drops were warnings or signals, guideposts or diversions. They were totally inconsistent, with the exception of all being Krane’s bags. He was baiting her.
“It could still be coincidence, Maggie,” Darcy said. “We haven’t proven that there is a connection between these incidents, much less that they’re indisputably connected to GRID. It wouldn’t pay to jump to false conclusions.”
“Two of them? Five empty bags in four separate incidents, during one shopping day? All five suspects enter the facility carrying handled shopping bags from the same store, abandon them and depart the mall. Not one of the five suspects buys a thing. And they do this non-shopping on the busiest shopping day of the year, when people who aren’t forced by necessity to shop, steer clear of crowded stores?” Maggie harrumphed. “Coincidence? I don’t think so, Darcy. Not even in Fantasyland.” Maggie sighed. “He’s baiting us.”
“Look, for the record, I don’t think it’s coincidence, either. But this isn’t—and never has been—about what we think, Maggie. What we think is insignificant. This is about what we can prove.”
Maggie’s next order was obvious, but she hesitated at issuing it.
Colonel Drake could veto it, and she probably would. But if she did, then at least Maggie would have it on record. It needed to be on the official record.
Maggie squeezed her eyes shut and did it. “Darcy, add this latest incident and report it to the Threat Integration Center and up the chain of command. Include my personal opinion that the odds of these events being coincidental run about the same as odds that DNA is coincidental.”
“That’s a strong opinion, Maggie,” Colonel Drake said.
“Yes, ma’am, it is, Colonel. But I believe it’s true, so I have no choice but to report it.”
Silence followed, and held. A long moment later the colonel finally responded. “Very well.”
Maggie swallowed hard, feeling regretful and relieved. Regardless, she’d done what she had to do and she’d live with knowing that forever. If she turned out to be wrong on the judgment call, it’d wreck her career and her future with S.A.S.S.
If she proved wrong, then of course she’d take the hit. But she believed she was right, and to be right and silent would be a breach of ethics she wasn’t willing to make.
She’d regret it every day for the rest of her life, and never be able to meet her own eyes in the mirror again. She already regretted plenty and would never willingly add more. “Report it, Darcy, and keep a sharp watch. I have the feeling we’re about to find ourselves in the middle of a tempest.”
“For what it’s worth, your instincts aren’t working alone,” Kate said. “I’ve got the heebie-jeebies.”
“Oh, man.” That, from Amanda. But it could just as well have been from any of them. When Kate got the heebie-jeebies, trouble was coming to call. Her personal warning system had never failed.
That reinforcement of Maggie’s judgment was welcome, even if it incited dread.
“Right on cue,” Darcy said, sounding resigned. “Heads up, people. Level One, Door One. The Olympians and Special Forces are arriving. Estimate? Two hundred. Makeup? Forty percent kids. Thirty percent parents. Thirty percent Special Forces and family.”
“Criteria?” Maggie asked for clarity on how Darcy was defining them.
“Military haircuts, Maggie. Sorry, but it’s the most obvious and specific trait avail—” She stopped suddenly and groaned. “Darn it, Maggie. They’re all wearing yellow jackets!”
“What?” Surprise and annoyance ripped through her. “Why are they in yellow? I didn’t order that.”
“Colonel Gray,” Darcy said. “Has to be that interfering, pain in the rump, issuing orders to stick his nose into Colonel Drake’s business again.”
Colonel Drake broke in. “Verify that directly with them and their boss, General Foster.”
“I know it’s him,” Kate said. “Only Gray would be so unconscious. I’m on it.”
“This one is going to cost him,” Maggie vowed. “Are you wired to the Special Forces liaison, Darcy?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Are we?”
“No, he’s not on open communications with S.A.S.S.”
“Ask him for verification that this jacket business was Gray’s order, Darcy.”
“Standby.”
Furious, Maggie stood statue-still and Justin didn’t utter a sound, though she knew he, too, was outraged. If he held his jaw any tighter, he’d crack a couple molars.
Kate answered first. “Colonel Gray issued the order for the yellow jackets. He said it was at the request of S.A.S.S.—and that’s a direct quote, Maggie.”
Darcy weighed in with the same response. “According to the liaison, Colonel Gray issued the order and he provided the parkas at our request, Maggie.”
“Override it,” Maggie said sharply, her temper engaged. “Notify General Shaw that I ordered the override and I’m seeking his endorsement. Also ask him to please have the MPs escort Colonel Gray to the OSI office for an immediate educational consultation with the general.” Diplomatic way of asking the military police to deliver Colonel Gray to the Office of Special Investigations where the general could ream Colonel Gray a new one.
“Maggie, Colonel Gray will retaliate against you.”
“Insigni
ficant, Amanda. He’s lucky I’m not arresting him. He lied about the orders he issued and deliberately jeopardized thousands of people for the sole purpose of insinuating himself into an operation totally outside the jurisdictional authority of his command. He’ll take his hits, and I’ll take mine. Let the chips fall.”
“Hear, hear,” Kate said.
“Yeah, well,” Amanda said. “I warned you. When retribution comes, remember that your griping rights have been revoked.”
“Whatever.” Maggie looked across the pit to where the Special Forces and Olympians had gathered and were depositing their things. Already the men were removing the yellow parkas. “Darcy, ask the liaison to secure those parkas and to forward us a full accounting on them.” The last thing they needed was for them to fall into enemy hands. “Done.”
“Why would Gray do that?” Justin asked, his hands curled into fists and shoved into his pockets. “Doesn’t he realize what he’s doing?”
Maggie cupped her hand over her lapel pin mike so what she was about to say wouldn’t transmit to the group. “He doesn’t care if he complicates our job, so long as we have a tough time. It’s all about punishing us.”
“But he’s putting others at risk. How can that not matter?”
“He doesn’t care, Justin. Gray’s a jealous jerk who so envies Colonel Drake and her job that he wants to create havoc to make her look bad more than he wants anything else—and that includes us successfully avoiding an attack. The fool puts us in ‘unintentional’ jeopardy all the time, and he never fails to wheedle his way out of responsibility for it. That absolutely frosts my cookies.”
“But surely he knows that this parka stunt of his could kill people.” Justin looked suitably disgusted. “A lot of people.”