The Signal

by John Sneeden

  As if on cue, Zane heard a faint hissing sound that seemed to be coming from the vents right above his head. Something was being pumped through the HVAC system on that floor.

  Brilliant, he thought. Zane knew he had to use the stairs, which were right next to the elevator, but as soon as he stepped out of the security room, he heard a chime indicating the elevator had just arrived. As the door slowly slid open, he rushed down the hall, turned right, and then found a room on the far end. Upon entering, he went immediately over to the window and tried to open it, only to learn that it had been permanently sealed. He also noted that the glass appeared to be the double-paned variety that was used for security, so it wouldn’t do any good to try to kick though it or shoot it. Not to mention that would draw the Renaissance team directly to his position.

  Realizing there was nothing to be gained at the window, Zane returned to the door. He examined it closely and saw that it couldn’t be locked, so he pulled it mostly shut, leaving a crack through which to point his gun.

  Zane knew that the men were out of the elevator because he could hear the soft sound of footsteps, muffled slightly by the hissing that continued to come from the vents. He also heard the occasional creak as they pushed open doors, indicating they were professionals who were clearing one room at a time.

  Zane soon began to feel light-headed. Whatever they were pumping through the ductwork was beginning to have its intended effect. Figuring the air was a little cleaner close to the floor, he got down on one knee.

  Feeling more stable, he watched the hallway through the crack in the door. A few seconds later, he saw what he’d been waiting for. The edge of a gas mask appeared at the corner. The mask gave the man the appearance of a grotesque alien. The man paused, perhaps listening, and it gave Zane the break he was looking for.

  Raising his gun, Zane pointed it at the tiny portion of the mask that was visible. He doubted he’d be able to hit the man’s face at that angle, but his hope was to render him vulnerable to the gas by taking out the mask. In the chaos that would ensue, Zane might be able to rush forward, finish him off, and then make for the stairs.

  Locking in on the shiny piece of plastic, Zane squeezed the trigger. There was a suppressed spit, followed by a loud grunt as the man fell to the ground. Apparently, the bullet had found its mark.

  The operative stood up, ready to sprint for the corner, but then swooned and fell backwards. The room was spinning more powerfully than before, and he realized that he was only a few seconds away from passing out.

  In the vague recesses of his brain, the operative remembered an important piece of information, a part of his training that dealt with what you should do when faced with potential capture. It was a task of last resort, but it was one he knew he needed to complete.

  His world growing more and more fuzzy with each passing second, the operative used the last of his strength to pull out his phone with his left hand. He then lifted his Glock with his right hand and aimed it at the portion of the phone that he knew contained the SIM card.

  His strength almost completely gone, Zane clenched his jaw and pulled the trigger. The phone was immediately blasted out of his hand, the various parts scattering across the carpet.

  As everything turned to black, the operative thought about how pleased the Oracle would be that he had followed protocol.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  THE RENAISSANCE BACKUP team was exiting the Mercedes SUV at the precise moment Carmen received Zane’s reply via text. She reached up and turned the key just enough to activate power inside the Renault.

  “Roll your window down halfway,” Carmen instructed Amanda.

  “Why?”

  “Just do it. I’m getting ready to step out of the car, and I want your window down in case something happens and I need to give you instruction.” Carmen watched the men move down the sidewalk in formation.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Follow them at a distance. Hopefully Zane made it out.”

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  Carmen could see the fear in the girl’s eyes, but she also realized she needed to find out if Zane needed help. The Renaissance thugs were heavily armed, which might make things difficult, even for someone with as much skill as Zane. As long as Amanda stayed in the car, she would be fine. The action would be blocks away.

  “For now, I just need you to stay here,” she said. Amanda didn’t respond, so Carmen asked, “Understood?”

  Amanda nodded but still seemed concerned.

  “If I’m not back in thirty minutes, take the car and get out of here.” Carmen jingled the keys that were still in the ignition. “You have Brett’s number, so call him when you leave, and he’ll tell you what to do.”

  Carmen got out of the car and closed the door softly. She moved to the street side of the car and ran after the Renaissance team in a stooped position. She was thankful that it was a relatively deserted area, because her crouched posture would have surely drawn unwanted attention.

  When she reached the SUV, Carmen took two pictures of the license plate. She’d send them to Brett via text later.

  After tucking her phone back in her pocket, she continued her pursuit of the Renaissance team. A minute later, she made a mistake that ended all hope of helping Zane: as she ran in a stooped position with her eyes still firmly locked onto the men up ahead, she failed to see a bottle sticking out from underneath a sedan. Her foot caught it squarely, causing it to clang loudly out into the street.

  As soon as she realized what she’d done, she stopped and crouched behind the vehicle. But it was too late. The two Renaissance goons in the rear turned around and saw her before she dropped out of view.

  While the men began to crouch and spread out into formation, Carmen cursed herself for having been so careless. How could she not have seen the bottle? She had no choice but to retreat. Zane was a professional and could take care of himself. Her priority right now needed to be keeping Amanda safe.

  Hoping the men might not know how many people they were up against, Carmen fired several shots in their direction. Much to her satisfaction, the men hunkered down behind one of the cars without returning fire. Making use of the cover her shots had provided, the Italian sprinted back to the Renault. When she arrived, Amanda was still in the back seat, bent over and trying to hide.

  Carmen opened the door on the street side and said, “Get out. Now!”

  She had thought of trying to drive right past the Renaissance team, but they were likely well armed, and could turn the small Renault into Swiss cheese in short order. Their only choice was to retreat on foot, and Carmen had an idea how to do that very thing.

  After Amanda slid over and got out, the Italian operative stood up and fired two more shots. She noticed that the men were creeping in their direction now, which was not what she wanted to see. They also returned fire that time, although there was little chance they would make a hit.

  Carmen turned around and looked at the road behind them. It came to a dead end in a row of bushes a couple of blocks away. She knew from the satellite view she had studied the night before that there was a residential neighborhood just on the other side. If they could make it through those bushes, they might be able to lose the men in the maze of houses. Or they might also be able to make it to the Rhone River, which was on the other side of the neighborhood.

  As two more shots rang out, Carmen turned to Amanda. “Listen to me closely. I need you to sprint for those bushes then crawl through and wait for me on the other side. I’m going to hold them down to give you time to get there, and I’ll join you after that.”

  Amanda appeared pale and frightened, but she managed a nod.

  Carmen slapped her shoulder. “Now go!”

  As Amanda ran off, Carmen stood up and fired until her magazine was spent. The shots had their intended effect, as the men hunkered down in response. Clicking in another magazine and chambering a round, she turned and ran. By the time she arrived at the bushes, Amanda h
ad already pushed her way through. The Italian glanced back one last time and saw that the men were fanned out and running her way, with two coming directly down the street and three others coming down the sidewalk. She lifted her gun, fired at the two in the street, and then plunged through the tangle of sharp limbs.

  “I’m here,” said Amanda as Carmen crawled through on the other side.

  The bushes were thick, so both women had scratches on their faces and hands. As Carmen stood up, she noticed that they were standing atop a grassy hill. At the bottom of the hill was the edge of a large residential neighborhood, with streets and houses stretching out into the distance. Beyond the neighborhood, she saw a row of tall trees, which were probably lined along the shore of the river.

  Carmen fired a random shot back through the bushes. There was almost a zero chance she’d hit anybody, but she wanted to give the men the impression that she was still in there. It wouldn’t work for long, but it might buy them another minute or two.

  “We’re going to straight to those houses.” Carmen pointed down the hill. She then looked at Amanda, who was breathing heavily. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “Good. Let’s go.”

  The Italian led the way down the slope, running fast, but not so fast that she might lose her balance. The last thing she needed was to take a fall just as the goons popped out of the bushes.

  When they reached the bottom of the hill, the sound of a gunshot pierced the air, and a round shredded through several shingles on a nearby roof. That was followed by another shot that kicked up a cloud of grass and dirt a few feet away. Amanda screamed, and Carmen glanced back. Three of the men had already made it through and were on their knees, taking shots.

  “This way,” Carmen said, running around to the front of the house. She motioned Amanda to stay put and then leaned around the corner. All five men were atop the hill now. Without even taking aim, the Italian fired several shots that were simply meant to hold them in place.

  “Uh, Carmen…”

  The operative turned around and saw Amanda pointing toward the front porch of the house. A woman was standing there, looking perplexed. Carmen told the woman that they were on official business and to get back in the house.

  Hearing Carmen's accent, the woman backed up a bit but didn’t fully comply. A scowl crossed her face as she lifted an accusatory finger. “Vous n’êtes pas—”

  “Maintenant!” Carmen yelled, lifting her pistol. The woman beat a hasty retreat back through the front door.

  Another shot rang out, so Carmen looked back around the corner. All five men were walking down the hill, their guns raised. Carmen pulled back, looked at Amanda, and gestured across the street with her gun. “Start running that way. Just keep going straight, and don’t stop until you get to the trees along the river. Take cover, and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  Amanda hesitated, clearly not happy about running off on her own.

  “Go!” Carmen shouted, not leaving any room for debate.

  As Amanda turned and fled, Carmen looked around the corner once again. The men had fanned out as she could only see three. It concerned her that she couldn’t see the other two, but she couldn’t worry about that right then. Knowing she didn’t have time to formulate a detailed plan, she stepped out into the open, raised the Beretta with both hands, and squeezed off two rounds. Two of the men reached for their chests and fell, screaming as they tumbled down the hill. The third man ran to his right and out of sight, using the house as a shield.

  Two down, three to go, she said to herself. Carmen was still concerned about the two men she couldn’t see. If they had made it past her, she needed to find Amanda before they did.

  After a quick glance to make sure the coast was clear, she sprinted across the street and between two houses on the other side. Crossing through a row of hedges in the backyard, she suddenly found herself in a park for children. Immediately on her right was a pond, its calm surface broken only by a flotilla of ducks and geese. Further ahead was a graveled area with swing sets, slides, and climbing bars. And just beyond the play area was some kind of clubhouse and a parking lot.

  While examining the play area, Carmen noticed a group of women gathered behind the swing sets with their children. All of them were staring in her direction, doubtless because she was armed. But the fact that they were already huddled up told her that someone had just come through, perhaps Amanda.

  As the stare-down continued, one of the women pulled out a mobile phone. If she was calling the authorities, she would likely be the second person. Carmen had no doubt the woman on the front porch had also gone inside and placed a call.

  Realizing that the police would probably arrive soon, Carmen pondered her next move. She could see the trees in the distance, on the other side of the street from the park, but there was no sign of Amanda. Could she really have run fast enough to already be there? Carmen doubted it, although she couldn’t rule it out. What really concerned her was the possibility that the American had taken a wrong turn or somehow been forced to hide from one of the thugs. But she felt sure that Amanda would have followed the instructions to the letter. Carmen owed it to her to fulfill her end of the promise.

  She ran past the pond and past the women behind the swings. As she reached the parking lot, a shot rang out and a bullet whizzed overhead. She ducked into a crouch and continued to run past several cars, finally coming to a stop behind a BMW sedan. Her well-trained ears told her that the shot had come from the other side, although it was impossible to know exactly where.

  Most shooters, even experienced ones, liked to crouch behind a car and shoot over the top, so Carmen had learned to keep low and try to locate the attacker from underneath. Lying flat on the pavement, she scanned the other side of the lot. It only took her a few seconds to find the shooter. He was kneeling behind the tire of a car, and his left knee and upper leg were just barely visible.

  Carmen squirmed around until she was facing the man. She raised her gun and aimed it directly at his kneecap. It wouldn’t kill him, but a shattered knee would put him out of commission, which is all she would need.

  The target acquired, she steadied her hand and squeezed the trigger. After the coughing sound of the shot the man screamed and tumbled sideways, clutching the knee that had just turned to jelly. Carmen could see that the gun had flung out of the man’s hand and was lying a short distance away on the pavement.

  Carmen jumped up and ran out of the parking lot and across the street toward the stand of pines. As she entered the trees, she heard two shots ring out from two different directions. She zigzagged through the maze of trunks, making it difficult for anyone to hit her.

  A few seconds later, she broke out on the other side. Straight ahead, across a short expanse of grass, was the Rhone River. On the shore was exactly what she thought she had seen on the satellite view: a small marina. Escape was within their grasp, if she could only find Amanda.

  “Hey,” said a voice behind her.

  The Italian turned, her gun raised, but lowered it when she saw a tired-looking Amanda coming out from behind a holly bush.

  “You okay?” Carmen grabbed Amanda’s shoulder.

  “Yes, how about you? I heard all the gunfire and was scared you’d been shot,” Amanda said.

  “I’m fine, but I can’t say the same for the thug who tried to ambush me in the parking lot. Look, I wish there was more time to catch up, but we have to go. Let’s get moving.”

  They both turned and ran toward the marina. As they drew closer, Carmen noticed a building and several docks. She also noted that there were about fifteen or twenty boats moored to the docks, mostly small motorboats and sailboats. She couldn’t have asked for more. It was laid out exactly as she had hoped. Given enough time, she might even be able to hotwire one of the motorboats.

  Any thoughts that the marina might be deserted disappeared when three men stepped out from behind the small building. Amanda hesitated, but Carmen yelled a
t her to keep going.

  When they reached them, an older man stepped forward. He was likely in his sixties, with a gray beard and wrinkled skin that looked as though he had spent his entire life on Lake Geneva. Carmen knew instinctively that he was the owner. The two others behind him appeared to be teenagers.

  “Ça va?” the old man asked, appearing concerned.

  “Non, ça ne va pas. Do you speak English?” Carmen asked, knowing her French wasn’t good.

  “I speak a little,” the man replied.

  “We are working with the police, and there are some bad men on the way,” Carmen said. A look of confusion spread across the man’s face. Carmen pointed her finger like a gun. “Bad men. Bang bang. They come and try to shoot us.”

  “Bad men come for you?” he asked.

  “Yes, they’re coming for us, and we need a boat.”

  Before the man could respond, someone yelled in the distance. They all turned to see two men standing just in front of the pine trees. One of them was bald, and Carmen immediately realized who it was. He was yelling in French, so Carmen could only pick up bits and pieces, but he seemed to be telling the owner of the marina that she and Amanda were criminals. The expression on the old man’s face morphed to one of suspicion, at which point he said to Carmen, “I don’t know… maybe you bad.”

  A shot rang out, and the round exploded into the water behind them. Carmen pulled the group behind the building. She then fired another shot back toward the trees to keep the men at bay, but she knew it wouldn't last very long.

  “Get us a boat and get it now,” said the Italian, her demeanor suddenly changing from one of a pleading woman to that of a woman who was going to get what she wanted, even if it meant forcing the issue.