by Jaz Primo
I managed to catch a glimpse of movement ahead of me from the shadowy cover of some bushes. The figure was shouldering an RPG for another launch.
Throwing the sphere of fire from my hand, I propelled and guided it downrange from me toward the assailant.
His RPG fired, but the projectile veered off to my left, sailing past me in a matter of seconds. The resulting explosion occurred some distance behind me.
My fireball impacted the bushes next to the guy and fire erupted around him. He dove into a crouch, patting at his black fatigues as he ran.
Take that, asshole!
He ran to his left, and in the momentary light of the flames, I easily caught a glimpse of red hair.
It had to be our assassin from Chicago.
I started to pursue him but Criswell yelled off to my right.
“Bringer!”
I turned toward him, thankful he seemed no worse than when I’d left him. His wide-eyed expression suggested that he’d just seen my little fireball counterstrike.
“My God, Bringer! How the hell---” he shouted.
I tossed him the assault rifle and the full magazine, and ordered, “Shooter off to your right! Get the hell behind cover, and fire at anybody that looks threatening!”
He nodded once and turned around in a semi-crouched position, scanning the area ahead like he was taking point on patrol.
Like me, his dormant training must have finally clicked into action.
Criswell had been a damned good soldier.
As he went through the process of clearing his weapon and reloading, I frantically searched the tree line to my right for the assassin. There was no way I intended to let him get away again.
This business had to end here…tonight.
Chapter 19
Sirens blared all around the area as I scanned the park, running in the direction our assassin had headed. Despite the pounding in my head, I opened my mind to thoughts around me.
At first, there was nothing, then something faint entered into my mind.
…back to the car, came the frantic voice.
He was trying to get away.
I ran across the expansive park like a man possessed, frantically scanning for my target.
No longer the predator, he was now my prey.
I caught a quick glimpse of a dark-clad figure glancing back over his shoulder as he headed toward one of the park exits not far from me.
He spun toward me and fired two rounds from his pistol.
My shield went up and the two rounds suspended before me. I cast them back downrange at him but failed to see where the bullets impacted.
Running as fast as possible, I pursued him.
I was out onto the sidewalk outside of the park when I saw my target running toward a nearby sedan. The car’s lights flickered on and off a couple of times, and the trunk lid popped open ahead of him.
As I ran toward him with my shield in place, my head pounded and throbbed. I had to be stretching the limits of my abilities.
The roar of an engine sounded behind me, and I looked back over my shoulder to see one of our city’s police cars racing up the street in my direction.
I waved my arm at them and pointed toward the assassin’s car ahead of me.
As I whipped my head around to focus on my target, I spotted the guy holding another one of those damned RPG launchers in his hands. It was pointed at me, but then he pivoted to his left and launched the round toward the oncoming police car.
I tried to extend my shield while shifting it to my right to deflect the round, but I was too slow and the maneuver too difficult.
The police car exploded behind me, and I turned just in time to see it careening in my direction.
Fortunately, my shield was in place enough that, rather than stopping the vehicle, my body was thrown in the opposite direction. The police car rammed into a nearby parked vehicle with a crashing sound of broken glass and crumpled metal.
I managed to flatten my body and roll as I’d been trained, but the hard asphalt still sent shudders through my body as I impacted it. I rolled to a stop along the opposite side of the street, narrowly managing to avoid slamming my head into the concrete curb.
My entire body coursed with pain, including the pounding inside my head, but I managed to force myself to my feet. My target had already shut the trunk and started his vehicle as I staggered back into the middle of the roadway.
His car sped forward up the street before I could try to conjure another fireball.
“Dammit!” I shouted.
He was getting away again.
As the sedan sped away, no less than three police cars nearly simultaneously appeared further ahead, blocking his progress.
Yes!
I started to run up the street toward the sedan, though to my body, it felt more like a painful canter, at best. The car’s brake lights came on as the vehicle spun around in a semi-circle, its tires loudly squealing on pavement.
The sedan accelerated back down the street toward me at a rapidly increasing velocity.
Oh, shit.
With no immediate cover, I vainly ran to the side of the street, hoping to avoid getting hit. However, the sedan kept turning to keep me squarely in its sights.
I was about to become a hood ornament.
At the last second, I used every fiber in my body to propel a shield before me, even as I instinctively fell back onto the street. The weight of the vehicle pressed me onto my back, flat against the pavement.
The car launched into the air above me, as if impacting some invisible ramp. My head nearly exploded with pain as little stars appeared on the periphery of my vision. I watched the car’s undercarriage as the vehicle rotated in a semi-circle above and over my head.
Seconds later, and somewhere behind me, the car impacted with a loud crashing sound. As I managed to roll onto my stomach, I saw the sedan lying at an angle against a parked vehicle; steam pouring out from beneath the hood.
I heard vehicles rushing in my direction from back up the street, as well as the wail of sirens.
As I pushed myself to my feet, my body was wracked with pain. I felt something running down my lip and onto my chin.
A quick swipe of my hand revealed fresh blood.
My blood.
Then I heard the driver’s side door to the sedan pop open.
You’ve got to be kidding.
The bloody-faced assassin adopted a menacing scowl as he pulled himself from the wreckage, dragging another RPG-ready launcher from beside him.
I was barely able to stand as I forced fire into my right palm, desperately concentrating on spinning it into a tight ball. My head throbbed and pounded until my vision started to blur.
Tires squealed behind me, and I heard car doors opening, even as the RPG was being leveled at me.
“Logan!” yelled Agent Sanders.
Having run out of time, and likely energy, I flung the fireball from my right hand toward the car. The RPG fired, causing the projectile to whistle in my direction.
I closed my eyes at the last second as I threw my left hand up before me.
My head exploded with a mix of searing pain and mind-numbing shock as I felt myself falling backward. Intense heat raged around me as I felt fragments of superheated brick and mortar shower across my body and onto my face. My ears loudly buzzed from the sound of an explosion before me.
Seconds later, my body was being dragged across the asphalt, and I opened my eyes enough to see a burned body amidst the flames of the scorched sedan. To the left of where I’d fallen, a smoldering hole in the side of a building was the stark testimony to my shield’s last-second success.
I looked up to see Sanders pulling at my right arm while a shocked-looking police officer tugged at my left.
“Hard asphalt,” I managed to croak from my dry throat.
“Oh, please just shut up, Bringer,” Sanders said as she stared down at me glassy-eyed.
* * *
Hours later, I lay atop a hospi
tal bed, still wearing my smoke-tinged clothes. My scarred leather jacket was draped across a nearby visitor’s chair, looking as if it’d just been through a war.
Battle-tested, I preferred to think of it.
Whatever the doctors had injected into me had finally helped my throbbing headache to ebb to manageable levels. An IV was still plugged into my left arm, restoring my body’s fluids.
I took a deep breath, feeling some aching in my ribs from the effort. It was amazing how dehydrated a body could get from casting fireballs and dodging exploding RPG rounds.
God, how I hated RPGs.
Between those damned RPGs and the roadside bombs, they’d been every soldier’s nightmare back in the Middle East.
The door to my room opened, and Maria peered in at me with a smile.
“Maria!” I greeted.
“Hey, hero,” she said. “Feeling any better?”
“Yeah, actually. Whatever the doctors gave me helped a lot.”
“Good. It was a concentrated solution I concocted just for you,” she offered in a self-satisfied tone. “Kind of like your vitamin shot but with a kicker.”
The woman’s talents were being sorely wasted as a physician’s assistant. I reached out to hold her hand as she stared down at me.
“Thanks, I appreciate that,” I said.
Then Lexi and Kevin peered into my room, so I visited with them and Maria for a little while longer before closing my eyes and drifting off to sleep.
I felt so exhausted.
A few hours later, it was nearly midnight, and the doctor’s reluctantly agreed to release me. They’d wanted to keep me overnight for observation, but all I really wanted was a hot shower and a soft bed.
Lexi and Kevin offered to take me home, but then, at the last minute, Agent Sanders showed up to insist on doing so.
As Sanders helped me with my tattered jacket, Lexi gave me one of her knowing smiles, but I rolled my eyes at her and shook my head.
Don’t go there, little sister.
On the ride home, Sanders filled me in on what had happened after I killed our renegade assassin.
“There wasn’t much left for evidence once the firemen doused the flames,” she said. “Still, I’m happy enough knowing he’s finally dead.”
At least we both agreed upon that.
“Oh, Congressman Criswell told me to thank you for what you did at the park tonight. He also said for you to ‘remember everything he said to you’,” she imparted. “He seemed particularly impressed with you, by the way.”
I looked out the car window to the relatively benign world outside. My conversation with Paul suddenly seemed like a lifetime ago.
“We’ve seen a lot together over the years. We go back a long way,” I said elusively.
“Some lives saved back and forth, I suspect,” Sanders said.
“Yeah, something like that,” I said.
“Hey, I bet the press is having a real field day with this,” I added, partially to change the subject.
Sanders looked over at me with a wry expression before returning her attention to the road before us.
“What an understatement. We’re crafting it somewhat differently as a failed attempt to assassinate a sitting congressman. Although the press is curious why Nevis Corners has suddenly become such a dangerous place since the Wallace Building explosion,” she said. “Luckily for you, so far we’ve managed to keep your name out of the spotlight.”
“And I couldn’t be happier about that.”
She winked at me.
“Hey, I’ve been thinking about tonight, and something keeps nagging at me. When I met Criswell in the park, he told me that only he and his administrative assistant knew about our meeting tonight. So, just how did those assassins find out about it? Because I sure as hell didn’t tell anyone else.”
She shrugged.
“Maybe they were already staking you out,” she suggested. “Forensics is still collecting evidence but I’m hoping we receive some quality data to review relatively soon.”
I looked over to see Sanders frowning as she drove.
“Of course, we also wondered how our shooter had known to show up in Chicago, as well,” she said. “I’ll inquire into the prospect of wire taps, as well as any prospective surveillance authorizations. You’ve already been followed by who-knows-what agency.”
“There’s been a possibility of an inside leak somewhere,” I said.
“I’ll run a check on Criswell’s assistant, just as a precaution,” she said.
I resigned myself with the realization that there were few secrets left in the world. Eventually, word gets out about everything.
But what bothered me in our case was how quickly it had happened.
* * *
I slept like the dead once I’d taken a shower and fallen into bed. It was nearly ten o’clock in the morning when the doorbell finally woke me up.
Sanders brought coffee with her when she stopped by to give me my vitamin injection. While she didn’t seem to be in a hurry, I was too tired to bother asking her to show me how to inject the damned thing myself.
I thanked her for both the coffee and her time. Rather than making a snarky comment, she merely winked and patted me on the back before leaving to head back to the office.
“Next time, I wouldn’t mind a hug,” I teased as she walked out my front door.
“Get over yourself, Bringer,” she snapped as she stepped off my porch. “And please do your best to haul your lazy butt down to the office by one o’clock.”
I just smiled, then took a swig of my coffee and watched her drive off.
Lexi called to check up on me, as well as Mom. I even chatted with Dad on the phone for a few minutes. He told me he was proud of me, which made me feel pretty good, given everything.
And I took some pride that, for the first time in weeks, I felt that my family was safer for my actions the previous evening.
Then my thoughts returned to the conversation I’d had with Paul Criswell. He’d made a number of good points, as well as revelations, concerning Nuclegene Corporation.
I felt a little better knowing that Continuance Corporation was making it onto a number of watch lists and government radars. With luck, maybe that would force the company to go further underground for a while; maybe even become inactive.
I wondered how an outfit like Continuance still managed to be referred to as a corporation. It hadn’t been that many years since we were all worried about rogue nation states; now we sweated over rogue companies.
What the hell was the world coming to?
It took another hot shower and some ibuprofen before I managed to move around without considerable pain. My body had taken a lot of punishment in a relatively short period of time.
Still, I felt a sense of hopefulness for the future.
My future.
Chapter 20
By the time I made it into the downtown FBI office, it was straight-up one o’clock. However, I was amused from seeing Sanders look down at her watch while shaking her head slightly.
“Well, you’re punctual, at least,” she said.
“It’s 1300 hours. Reporting for duty,” I said with a wry expression. “Anything interesting to share?”
“Oh, you have no idea,” she blandly replied and pointed to the desk nearest to her. “You can sit down at that computer and start typing a detailed account of what happened last night.”
“Yeah, right. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m just a civilian,” I said. “Shouldn’t someone officially employed here be doing this?”
“You’re a volunteer, remember?” she countered.
Busted.
I groaned, which, by the look of satisfaction on her face, provided her considerable amusement.
“Just great,” I said. “Bureaucracy finally rears its ugly head.”
Two hours later, I’d completed what I thought was a relatively thorough recounting of everything that had happened.
Sanders scanned the hard
copy version, and muttered, “Not bad, actually.”
Then the two of us met agents Tara Collins and Ben Foster in the familiar conference room down the hallway from the main office.
I looked at Collins appraisingly, admiring her fitted knit slacks, which hugged her attractive hips and butt in all the right ways.
She smiled back at me with a glint in her soft blue eyes.
With no sense of guilt, I opened my mind to listen in on stray thoughts as I casually scanned the room.
…how much better that chest of his looks without that shirt, came Collins’ thought.
Yep, I was definitely intrigued by Collins at some levels.
…gotta’ finish that report before heading home tonight, came Foster’s thought.
…making eyes at her like some slick player in a bar, came Sanders thought.
Sanders glowered at me when our eyes met, which jolted my concentration, and I immediately lost touch with the minds in the room.
“What?” Sanders suspiciously asked.
“Nothin’,” I said with a shrug, deliberately looking past her to the wall of windows revealing the cityscape.
Moments later, Chuck Denton and Deputy Director Tevin walked into the room and took seats at the head of the table.
“It looks like I’d better set up an office here in Nevis Corners,” Tevin quipped.
Agent Denton explained that Tevin was tasked to preside over the investigation into what was being touted as an assassination attempt against Congressman Criswell.
Then I was grilled by everyone in the room for details on the events, including recounting my story from scratch. Sanders asked clarifying questions to the report that I’d just typed for her, as well.
“Any idea who the assassins were?” I asked.
“His body was burned pretty badly, so forensics will need some time to work with the coroner’s office,” Foster said.
“And how did the guy know I was meeting with the congressman?” I asked. “Criswell said only he and his administrative assistant knew about it.”
“Well, our burnt assassin had been following you and Sanders, as well as staking out your house,” Denton pointed out. “Maybe the park was a location of opportunity?”
“And he brought a friend with him,” I said. “Why not just take me out at my house, then? Why go to the trouble for a public location like the park?”