She scooted away from the vent as Kip shouted, “That’s not good enough!”
She whispered in her com, “Mead is restrained on a chair in the center of the room. He’s injured.”
“Good. Come back.”
“I need to monitor this. Kip is angry.”
Kip paced back and forth along the front of the room. A chair braced the door to the hall. But there was a door to the adjoining classroom that wasn’t propped closed.
Lucy said, “The door in room two-oh-three isn’t blocked, but Mead will be in the direct line of fire.”
“How many weapons?”
“He’s holding a nine millimeter. A rifle is strapped over his shoulder. He has a knife on his belt.”
“Do you have a shot?”
Lucy wasn’t a sniper. Being a good shot at the target range was completely different from being a good shot at a moving target.
“If I miss—”
“We’re moving to room two-oh-three. Stay alert.”
Kip screamed at the phone, “I will bleed him dry! His blood will stain the floor. Unless you bring Peter here now, two minutes, I will kill him.” He walked over to the window. “I see you.” He fired out of the window with the rifle.
Lucy bit her tongue to keep from shouting out. Sean wasn’t in the southwest corner, but DeLucca’s men were exposed.
“A-ha!” Kip shouted. “One down, more to go.” He fired again.
Lucy pulled out her gun. She couldn’t use this vent; the openings were too narrow. And if she shot through the ceiling, she risked injury, loss of bullet velocity, and a skewed trajectory. She had to move to the larger vent in the center of the room.
She crawled as quickly as she dared.
“Status,” Noah demanded in her ear.
“Getting in position,” Lucy whispered.
The air-conditioning rumbled off.
Kip stopped shooting out of the window.
Lucy stopped moving. She was still three inches from the vent. She needed one more good slide to get into position.
She risked the sound.
She looked out the vent. Kip was staring at the ceiling, his expression alert.
Then she noticed this vent was too small to get her barrel through.
“I’ve been spotted,” she whispered.
Kip aimed his rifle toward the ceiling. Lucy punched out the vent with the barrel of her gun, aimed at him, and fired. The first bullet hit him in the shoulder. He fired his rifle three times into the ceiling. She fired again and hit his hand. He dropped the rifle and grabbed his nine millimeter. He didn’t aim at Lucy but at Charlie Mead.
She fired again as the door below burst open and Noah and Joe entered. They fired simultaneously at Kip. His body jerked and he stumbled backwards and tripped over a desk.
Joe rushed to Kip and kicked away his weapons, then checked his pulse. “He’s dead,” Joe said.
“Lucy!” Noah called.
“I’m okay. I might need a Band-Aid.” Or four or five. Her arm burned, but she didn’t think she’d been hit.
Noah pulled a desk over to the vent and jumped on it. Lucy saw the top of his head. She handed him her gun. He put it in his waistband. Then grabbed her by the arms and pulled her out headfirst. He held on to her as he scrambled off of the desk. He put her in a chair. “Were you hit?”
“No. I think it’s splinters from the ceiling tiles. Or maybe I cut my arm on the vent. Stupid. But he was going to shoot Charlie.”
Joe had untied Mead and was calling out for both a report and an ambulance.
Peter came in and rushed over to Charlie Mead. “Charlie?”
Charlie smiled. “You’re okay.”
“What about you?”
“Nothing broken.”
“Why are you here?” Peter asked.
“When Rogan left, I was worried and wanted to make sure you were safe. I took the first flight, went to your apartment and that guy grabbed me outside.”
“I’m sorry.” Peter hugged him.
“I’m glad you’re safe.”
“An ambulance is on its way,” Joe said. “I have one man down.”
Noah swore. “Status?”
“Doesn’t appear life threatening. I’m waiting for confirmation.”
Four cops rushed in. Joe ordered two to stand guard over Kip’s body, and two helped Mead out of the building. Noah picked up Lucy.
“I can walk,” she said.
“You’re bleeding.”
She frowned, feeling light-headed. “I’m okay. Just woozy. I think from the dust.”
“You’re black with dust and soot.”
Noah carried her down the hall, down the stairs, and out to where Sean and Suzanne were standing with another team of agents.
“What happened?” Sean demanded.
Noah put Lucy down on the small strip of grass separating the street from the sidewalk. “You did good, Kincaid,” he said. He stared at her and Lucy wished she knew what he was thinking. There was something odd in his expression. Then Noah turned to Sean. “She’s all yours. Make sure the paramedics check her out thoroughly.”
“I will,” Sean said.
Suzanne leaned against her car while Noah walked away to coordinate the Bureau and NYPD. Sean sat next to Lucy and sighed in relief.
“I’m fine,” she said. “A bullet grazed me, that’s all. Maybe some splinters.”
“You’re going to the hospital.”
“I will on one condition.”
“You will on no conditions.”
“Bossy, aren’t you?”
“Luce, I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“Me, too,” Suzanne said. “Another case together. Maybe you’ll get assigned to New York when you graduate.”
“I’d like that,” Lucy said, then glanced at Sean. She couldn’t read his face. They hadn’t talked about what they were going to do when she graduated. The only thing she was certain about was that she wouldn’t be assigned to the Washington, D.C., office. Very few agents were assigned to the field office they were recruited from.
Joe DeLucca came over. “Good job, Lucy.”
“Thanks. I’m glad it’s over.”
“Suzi, we need to talk.”
“Not now.”
“Yes. Now.” Joe stared at her and Lucy was surprised that Suzanne gave in.
“All right. Just don’t call me Suzi.” But she smiled, and Lucy’s suspicions were confirmed. Joe and Suzanne had a history. Lucy couldn’t help but be happy. She liked them both. And their body language, though they weren’t touching, told her they liked each other a lot.
“What are you looking at?” Sean asked.
“Nothing.” She smiled and put her head on his shoulder. “While I’m getting this gash in my arm sewn up, you have to let the doctor look at your leg.”
“All right.”
“That was too easy.”
“I’m too tired to argue.” Then he smiled. “Maybe we can share a hospital room. We can play doctor.”
She laughed. “Don’t you have a hotel room reserved?”
“I do.”
“I think I can get a day off. Maybe two.”
He kissed her. “Princess, you’ve earned it.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Lucy returned to Quantico Wednesday night. She was surprised by the warm greeting from her classmates. “The assistant director himself came to fill us in on what happened,” Reva said. “Rick Stockton. Can you believe it?”
“I’m just glad I don’t have to repeat the story a dozen times,” Lucy said.
“Just once,” Carter said. “We deserve the details.”
“You do.” She smiled. “I appreciate your support, but right now I have to meet with the Chief. More reports.”
She breathed deeply as she walked across campus, alone, to Chief O’Neal’s office. Noah Armstrong was already inside.
“I’ve been briefed,” O’Neal said. “You can rejoin your class tomorrow if you can make up the work. I spoke with T
om Harden and he said you can have a PT pass until Monday if you need it. Or, if you need more time, the next new-agent class starts in ten days. You can take the time off, heal, and join with the new class.”
Lucy shook her head. “I want to stay with my class. And I’m fine. Just sore.”
The doctor had removed twenty-nine plastic splinters from the ceiling tiles and stitched up a gash in her left arm where one of Kip Todd’s bullets had grazed her.
“I’m glad,” O’Neal said. “You fit with your class. And after what happened with Sanchez, you’ll be instrumental in rebuilding class unity.”
“I have one favor,” she said. “Would you call in my field counselor, Agent Laughlin, and give me a minute to talk to him in private?”
Both Noah and O’Neal looked surprised, but she agreed. She left the room, and Noah said to Lucy, “Are you sure about this?”
“Yes. I left the files you showed me in Tony’s office. Your office.” Noah was taking over Tony’s teaching position until they found a replacement. “Hans?” she asked hopefully.
“He was in surgery all day, now resting in ICU. Kate’s with him. I can drive you there, if you’d like.”
“If you don’t mind.”
“Lucy—” Noah stopped. She didn’t know what he’d planned on saying, but she didn’t think it was what he ended up telling her. “I put a commendation in your file. ‘Outstanding performance while under fire.’”
Lucy laughed while she also blushed with the praise. “Literally. I have a lot to learn, but I’m getting there.”
Noah hugged her. “I’m glad you decided to stay. Hans will be pleased when he wakes up.”
Lucy hoped she and Hans could regain the friendship they’d once had.
Rich Laughlin walked in. Noah nodded to the agent, then left.
Lucy didn’t say anything at first. She kept her eyes on Laughlin. The anger and frustration on his face were obvious, but his eyes questioned her. He didn’t know why she had asked for this meeting; he thought he’d won—that he’d found a way to kick her out of the Academy.
“You’re delaying the inevitable,” he said, breaking the silence.
“What’s inevitable?” she asked.
“You’re one of the ten percent.”
Laughlin was referring to the 10 percent of new agents who didn’t graduate from the Academy. Last week Lucy would have been angry with his comment, but today she understood.
Laughlin continued, “Just because you performed this time doesn’t mean you’ll do it next time.”
“I’m going to assume you’ve read my file,” Lucy said. “Not just this last case, but my personal file.”
Laughlin didn’t say anything, but it was clear he had.
“You think, because I had been a victim of violent crime, and because I am obsessive about my work, that I’m also as reckless as Grace Johnson.”
His face hardened, but his eyes lit in surprise. “You don’t know Grace.”
“Though we’ve never met, I know Grace. Her baby brother was killed because of gang violence. Her mother was gunned down in retaliation for testifying against her son’s killer. Her father is in prison for murder. She was the good daughter. Fighting drugs and violence. One of the good guys. You trusted her because she was one of the best. She knew everyone. She was willing to do anything to end the pain and suffering of other families facing what she survived.
“You thought she was reckless—”
“Don’t talk about her. Grace is nothing like you. Of course I read your file. You killed a man in cold blood.”
“I did.”
“You’ll do it again.” Laughlin stared at her, hatred in his eyes. At first Lucy was intimidated, but then she saw beyond the hate, and the pain deep inside.
Laughlin continued, “You’re on a vendetta. If you continue down this path, you’ll get yourself or your partner or innocent civilians killed. Can’t you see it?”
“A vendetta against who?”
He was surprised by the question.
“You said I killed a man in cold blood. You read my file; you know the man I killed raped me, put one of my brothers in a coma, and detonated a bomb in my other brother’s house. Maybe I did have a vendetta against him. But he’s dead. Whom do I have a vendetta against?”
“What would you do to people like Adam Scott? What would you do to stop them?”
“What would you do?”
“I’m asking the questions!” Laughlin was on edge. It was clear he hadn’t expected her to confront him, and the more angry and upset Laughlin became, the calmer Lucy was.
She said, “You think I want to be an FBI agent so I have some sort of authority to take down bad guys any way I can.”
“Exactly.”
She smiled sadly. “You don’t know me, Rich.” She leaned forward. “I want to be an FBI agent so I don’t take out bad guys any way I can.”
He stared at her, confused.
“To me,” she said quietly, “the badge, the gun, the responsibility that goes with being a federal agent, is my deterrent to taking the law into my own hands.
“Eight months ago I worked for Women and Children First! which was run by a former FBI agent, Fran Buckley. I loved Fran. She was my mentor. Then I learned she was using me to set up paroled sex offenders to be murdered.
“These men didn’t deserve freedom. They should have remained in prison, because they were going to reoffend. It was in their psychology, their actions, their thoughts. I knew it; Fran knew it. I wanted them back in prison. Fran wanted them dead.
“It would have been easy for me to join that cause. To be a vigilante for justice. Because sometimes, justice isn’t served. Sometimes, innocent people feel they have no choice but to fight back any way they can.”
“I think you were involved. I think you knew exactly what Buckley was doing.”
“Hmm.” Lucy wondered if he really believed what he said. “If you have any proof, you should turn it over.”
“How can anyone trust you?” he asked.
“All trust has to be earned. And that’s the crux of your problem.”
“My problem?”
“You trusted Grace. She betrayed the trust. Then she died. She died saving the lives of three other undercover agents, which should count for something. But you can’t yell at her; you can’t tell her she screwed up; you can’t ask why she didn’t trust you to back her up, why she changed the meeting place at the last minute. Maybe she had a damn good reason for doing so. Maybe if she hadn’t changed the meeting place, more people would have died. But you don’t know—the investigation into her death was inconclusive, but because you learned she had a history with the people she was trying to take down, you assumed the worst—that she screwed up because she was reckless, on a jihad against the gang who destroyed her family.”
He glared at her, his face red. “How do you know any of this?”
“I know people like Grace Johnson.” Lucy knew he wasn’t referring to her psychology, that he wanted to know how she knew about the case, but she wasn’t going to tell him. “I think Grace died to save many people who will never know of her sacrifice. I can’t tell you if she was needlessly reckless. I don’t know if she could have contacted you. You’ve never given her the benefit of the doubt, and now everyone who you think might have a vendetta is somehow unfit to carry a badge.”
“I don’t trust you,” Laughlin said.
“I hope someday I earn your trust.” Lucy was going to walk out then, but she remembered something else. “You knew Evan Standler.”
He glared at her.
“And that’s why you have been pressuring Kate. You used her guilt over the ambush where he was killed to try and get her to convince me to quit.” That was a guess, but Lucy suspected she was right. And by Laughlin’s expression, she was close.
“You think Kate screwed up and got your friend killed. Remember, Standler was her fiancé. The ambush was just that—an unpredictable tragedy.”
“And then
Kate goes rogue and disappears for five years in Mexico? You think that isn’t a problem?”
“Kate saved my life,” Lucy said simply. “I trust her as much as I trust anyone. And what really hurts is that you intentionally tried to sabotage our relationship. You played mind games with Kate, trying to get her to doubt me. Then when that wasn’t working fast enough for you, you pulled out the Hans Vigo card and effectively used it. If I were a lesser person, I would have quit. I was very close. But if I had quit, I might become the person you fear I could be.”
She leaned forward and said softly, “There are many organizations who would hire me because of my skill set. That I’ve chosen to work within a fairly rigid structure and within the law should tell you more about my character and trustworthiness than what you think I’ve done in the past.”
“How do any of us know what you’re going to do in the future?”
“How do you know what you’re going to do?” She tilted her head. “If you had the opportunity to kill the man responsible for pulling the trigger that ended the life of Grace Johnson, would you?”
He didn’t answer the question but instead said, “I’m testifying against the cartel.”
“At great personal risk. I respect that, Rich.” She stood. “Neither you nor I know what we would do in every future scenario. It comes down to character.”
Lucy left the office. Chief O’Neal and Paula Kean were standing in the outer room. Kean didn’t look happy with the situation, but O’Neal said directly to Lucy, “SSA Kean has been briefed on the situation. Agent Armstrong said he’d be waiting for you in the lobby. You will be back in the morning?”
“Yes, thank you.”
* * *
Twenty minutes later, Noah and Lucy walked into Prince William Hospital. Noah showed his ID and was directed to ICU, where Hans was recuperating after his surgery. “Go ahead,” Noah told Lucy. “I’m going to track down his doctor.”
Kate sat slumped outside the room, her eyes closed. Lucy thought she was sleeping until she opened one eye. “Hello,” she said.
Lucy sat next to her. “How is he?”
“They said the surgery was a success. But he hasn’t regained consciousness.”
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