Dangerous in Action (Aegis Group Alpha Team, #2)

by Sidney Bristol

  “Yes, but yours is torn,” Isaac said.

  “We all have suits.” Tanya slid to her feet, adrenaline deadening the pain from standing on her twisted ankle. “I need a map. He just told us to wear the suits, which means he knows where we are. He’s known we were here all along, and we are in the dispersal zone for the gas.”

  “Shit. That will narrow down our search.” Isaac snatched Kyle’s phone from her hand and opened the map. “Here. What’s the dispersal like on the weapon?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t even think Orlando knows. It’s all still highly experimental, which means we have to be really, really close. He probably did this intentionally, sending those guys to the building with the bomb to draw cops and attention away from whatever it is he’s doing. And if he’s gloating about it, he’s going to do it soon.”

  It could already be too late.

  “The busses,” Adam said.

  “What?” Tanya glanced up.

  “There was a line of charter and school busses going off the main road. Some sort of event? What’s west of here?”

  “A park. There’s a damn park.” Abigail groaned.

  “We need to get there now,” Tanya said.

  “We can’t drive the van, cops will be looking for it.” Adam shook his head.

  “Then we run. It can’t be that far, can it?” Tanya glanced at the other men. “We get in, we find Orlando or his guys, somewhere there’s a lot of people.”

  “What do we do when we find it? Or him?” Kyle asked.

  “Stop him. Any way you can.” Tanya turned for the warehouse doors. Each step sent pain shooting up her leg, but at least she was alive. If they didn’t stop Orlando, they might not be able to say that soon.

  “Uh, guys?” Isaac stared at his phone, brows arched. “Not to throw fuel on the fire, but the President is supposed to be at whatever this event is. Some sort of leaders of tomorrow thing. He should be speaking in an hour.”

  The pieces were beginning to fall into place.

  Orlando had orchestrated a diversion that would not only grant him revenge by robbing countless families of their loved ones, but throw the country most responsible for his sister’s death into chaos. And he wanted her to watch?

  No way. Tanya would die before she sat back and did nothing.

  “Call in a bomb threat.” She glanced between the men. “Any death is terrible, but if he gets the President he wins.”

  It was a mercenary way to think, but if Orlando’s goal was worldwide chaos, killing the President of his former ally was the best way to go about that. If they robbed him of that death, they might get lucky and Orlando not even show.

  Sunday. Remote CIA Offices in Washington, D.C.

  Robert kept his gaze straight ahead. The security guards had moved him from the office he’d borrowed into an interrogation room.

  The moments ticked by.

  All he could do was hope that Tanya had enough of a head start and an idea for what Orlando was really up to.

  The door opened and Brett stepped through. Or at least the man who was pretending to be Brett. Whoever he was, he’d banked on Robert having never met Agent Brett Jones. The jovial smile was gone, and he’d changed into a suit.

  Robert’s stomach tightened. Was this one of Orlando’s tricks?

  “It’s just us.” Fake Brett set a tablet down on the table between them and twisted the lock on the door.

  A local newscast covering the bomb threat and manhunt streamed across the screen.

  Tanya’s face was shown as the only suspect.

  “I’d hoped to wrap this up without having to directly deal with you, but you forced my hand.” Brett pulled out a chair and sat down.

  Robert’s mouth went dry.

  “You don’t really work in HR, do you?” he asked.

  “Oh, I do. And we both know I’m not really Brett Jones, don’t we? HR is where all the secrets are buried, Robert.”

  “What’s your name, then?”

  “You can call me Alphonso, though Elda used to call me Alby.” Alphonso smiled, but it was not a kind expression.

  “Elda? Orlando’s sister?”

  “Yeah. She was something.” Alphonso smiled, his expression sad and sincere for all of a moment. “Did you know why Elda was coming here? Why she was in that building the day it was held up and all those people killed?”

  “No...”

  “She was waiting for me. We were supposed to have lunch together, but I got held up in a meeting on the top floor. We were evacuated. Elda and the others were held hostage for days. She didn’t deserve what happened to her. They could have been stopped.”

  Robert swallowed.

  In everything he’d read, nothing had mentioned Elda’s purpose for being in that building. With the blast, visitor records would have been destroyed. There would be no paper trail leading back to Alphonso.

  “You’re his CIA man.” Robert sighed.

  “Paper pushers are the most overlooked.” Alphonso tapped the screen. “Here’s what’s going to happen. They’re going to come get you, put you in a transport, and halfway to where they’re taking you, the car will be hit at an intersection and you’re going to die. Before you ask, I don’t know what Orlando will do to your wife, but it probably won’t be pretty.”

  “Actually, none of that is going to happen.” Robert placed his hands on the table top.

  Alphonso stared at Robert’s bare wrists.

  The lock popped, and the door swung open.

  “You just confessed,” Robert whispered.

  The same security guards who’d found Robert grasped Alphonso and threw him up against the wall.

  Another man, this one in a dark suit with a gun on his hip, hovered in the doorway.

  “I’m so ready to be done with this bullshit, Ellis. What the hell did you drag to our doorstep?” The real Brett Jones scowled at Alphonso. They were similar enough in appearance and age that the swap was easy. The difference was, Robert had spent a month working on the Orlando case with Brett, a fact not put down on any paper.

  “Sorry, Jones.” Robert pushed to his feet.

  “How the fuck did you peg this guy?”

  “Process of elimination.” Robert glanced at Brett, his face twisted into a mask of rage. “We knew Elda had a boyfriend. We had no reason for her to be in the building that day. Alphonso here was the only non-necessary CIA person I had contact with—and he processed Tanya’s paperwork.”

  “What the hell are we looking at? The city is a mess.” Agent Jones scrubbed a hand over his face.

  “Our hen has come home to roost. We’ve got a problem, Jones, and we need to move fast. Tanya’s team can only fight one front of Orlando’s attack. There’s going to be a backup to whatever primary attack is planned. He will know about it.”

  Robert and Brett turned toward Alphonso.

  “Has he been officially arrested?” Jones asked quietly.

  “No, sir,” the closest guard said.

  “Give us the room,” Brett said quietly.

  Robert wasn’t one for unnecessary violence, but in the face of hundreds of children dying a pointless death, he’d cross lines.

  Sunday. Bethesda, MD.

  Orlando peered at his phone, watching the emergency news cast. It was hard to hear what was being said over the screeching of children running around the park.

  “He actually pulled this off. Maybe there’s hope for him yet.” He wiggled his wrist, the delicate gold chain snaking across his skin.

  Tanya’s face popped up on the screen. It was a grainy image, but impossible to mistake her for anyone else. And now she was the city’s most wanted, suspect in a foiled bomb plot.

  “I fear our Secret Service friends aren’t going to like the proximity of this.” Orlando sighed.

  He’d known having his CIA man tip off the news stations as to the identity of the suspect might create a situation where the President would not attend the mid-day festivities, but it was a risk Orlando had been willing to
take. After all, the stuffy old man was not Orlando’s goal. Both the security summit and the president were obvious targets. Too obvious to work.

  “Sir?” Edwin hesitated a few feet away.

  “What?”

  “Our contact confirms that the two men who drove the truck into the garage are dead.”

  “Us or them?”

  “Our contact took care of it.”

  “Fine. Is everything else in place?” Orlando checked his watch.

  “Yes, though the Secret Service seems to think the President won’t come. Not with a manhunt going on.”

  “He was never our target, just a bonus.” Orlando slid his phone into his pocket and smiled. “Now, we wait. Mid-day address should start soon.”

  And then the fun would begin. He’d bided his time, waiting for something just like this to happen. The amphitheater couldn’t be more perfect a setting if he’d built it himself.

  Tanya kept her eyes straight ahead of them. The pain didn’t matter. Nothing but getting to the gas.

  “Hey—hey, stop.” Isaac grabbed her hand, tugging her to a stop.

  The rest of the group was half a block behind them. Getting out of the suits wasn’t the easiest thing, and with Isaac’s help she’d had a head start.

  “Is this smart? Orlando has to know we’re coming.” Isaac squeezed her hand.

  “No, he doesn’t. He’s... How do I explain it? He’s so self absorbed he can’t imagine we would knowingly head into the fall out zone for the gas. I guarantee you he’s sitting on his laurels, confident we are running away from him.”

  “I’d feel a lot better about this if you’d wear the suit.”

  “That will just draw attention.” She shook her head.

  “Guys? We’ve got a problem.” Felix jogged forward. “Someone identified Tanya as the bomber.”

  “Shit,” she muttered. “That’s why Orlando called to gloat.”

  “You think he has that kind of connections?” Isaac asked.

  “If you don’t, I’m going to seriously wonder about your situational awareness.”

  “Okay, okay. Point taken. All that means now is that you can’t go to this park.”

  “Sure I can. No one is going to be looking for a bomber suspect in the middle of a crowded park.” If she couldn’t stop the gas, then everything they’d done had no meaning. Quade’s death, two years of molding herself into Orlando’s perfect companion, all of it.

  “Put your hood up at least.”

  “Come on. We can’t have a lot of time.” She turned and gritted her teeth against the pain shooting up her leg.

  The rest of the group caught up and they crossed the road and onto the shaded path leading into the heart of the park.

  “I brought some of the gas masks,” Abigail said.

  “Those won’t help unless the gas is diluted, and even then...” Tanya shook her head.

  “It’s better than nothing.”

  Tanya wasn’t sure, but arguing about it would do nothing.

  “Have we paused to consider calling the authorities?” Felix asked. “Not that I’m not willing to go in there, but if Tanya is all over the news, and we know there’s a real threat—”

  “Orlando will set off the gas. If people are coming toward it, all the better.” Tanya shook her head. “We go in, stop it ourselves. You said the speech isn’t ‘til one, right? That’s our deadline.”

  “We should split up. Teams of two,” Abigail suggested.

  “Good idea. Pair up,” Kyle said.

  Isaac pressed his hand to the small of her back. Whatever they’d shared no longer mattered, not in the face of what they were up against. If she survived, maybe she’d have a few, choice words for him, but not right now.

  Tanya kept her gaze forward and did her best to block out the pain.

  The other pairs outpaced them, crossing into the par proper past the posted security a few moments before her or Isaac.

  “Here.” He handed her a white cap with Leaders of Tomorrow stitched onto it. “I saw Felix snag this out of someone’s bag and hang it here.”

  “Thanks.” Tanya tugged the hat on and tucked as much of her hair under it as she could. “Where are we searching?”

  “They’ve got eyes on the crowd. If we can get close to the stage, that’s likely the area where we’ve got the least coverage.” Isaac tilted his head to the side. “Sounds like they’re setting up for a televised address by the President, instead of him coming here.”

  “Makes sense. If he was, there’d be more security.”

  She kept her head down. The security barely even gave them a once over. They were far more interested in glaring at some kids playing tag around a statue.

  Isaac slid his hand into hers. Instead of releasing tendrils of warmth and comfort, her hand felt colder, the chill creeping up her arm. He didn’t care about her, not the same way she felt about him. Why couldn’t he let her keep her walls and comfort?

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked.

  “What?” He tapped his comm and glanced at her.

  She stared at the brick half wall ahead of them. The earth seemed to drop away, leaving nothing but the blue expanse of the sky.

  Tanya pulled her hand from his and picked up her pace.

  She stared down at stone seats cut into the natural amphitheater. Kids clustered in groups, eating their lunch on the gradually sloping sides of the hill. Below them the half circle stage was full of people setting up a screen.

  “Shit...”

  “What?” Isaac turned to peer down below.

  “Tell the others to look around the top of the amphitheater. The gas is heavy, it’ll stay low to the ground, like a fog.” She grasped the brick railing and levered herself down.

  “Tanya—wait.” Isaac followed her, the rest of his words lost in the hum of a couple hundred teenagers left to their own amusement.

  The best case scenario was that they found the dispersal method for the gas and ensured it didn’t release. Better yet, if they caught Orlando red-handed they could stop the whole thing, but she’d settle for ensuring the gas was secured.

  If she had to brainstorm another plan, she could only hope something would come to her.

  Below, a woman approached the podium. The speakers screeched with feedback for a split second.

  “Everyone, please make your way to the amphitheater. We will begin in ten minutes.”

  Shit.

  Tanya had hoped for more time.

  Orlando would act fast once all the kids were in place.

  She grit her teeth and upped her pace. They cut around to the side of the theater near the midsection. Going down on the side was easier with handrails.

  “See anything?” she asked over her shoulder.

  “The guys are having a problem getting through the kids,” Isaac said.

  The screen sat half assembled on the stage, part of the frame lying on the stage.

  They couldn’t begin in ten minutes with an address from the President without a screen.

  What if they weren’t going to make it that far?

  Tanya took the stairs two and three at a time, hyper aware of the lack of movement on the stage. When she’d helped with corralling the kids for services under her father’s direction they’d needed to be on hand, herding the kids constantly. She’d never have left them to gather on their own.

  There should be more people. More adults.

  Something wasn’t right.

  No one was at the foot of the stairs to stop her from ducking under the tape marking where students weren’t allowed. She glanced around, but there were no adults.

  She tasted the metallic odor before the smell registered.

  “Isaac—”

  “I see it.” He crossed to the four stairs leading to the backstage area.

  A small puddle of red liquid was partially hidden in the shadow of the amphitheater.

  Tanya swallowed and climbed the stairs after Isaac. She pushed the stage door shut behind her and b
linked into the darkness. Isaac knelt next to the fallen forms of three people, including the woman who’d just been at the podium. The smell of blood was thick in the air, enough that her stomach clenched and her throat constricted.

  If they’d just been a little faster. She hadn’t seen anyone duck back stage.

  Isaac held up three fingers with his left hand, his gun in the other.

  She nodded and sidestepped him.

  “Here, hook this to that,” a man said.

  Tanya peered past the curtain. The backstage console light illuminated two figures in black hazmat suits. They sorted cables, most of which were plugged into the console.

  “Is that all the fog machines?” the same man asked. His voice was familiar, but she couldn’t put a name to it.

  Fog machines.

  No one would see that coming.

  Isaac gestured, but the meaning was lost on her. The only thing she could focus on was stopping those machines from going off.

  “Hey.” She pushed past the curtain.

  Both men jerked their heads up.

  Isaac kicked out, dropping one with a kick to the side of his head. The second man whirled to face off against Isaac, drawing a weapon from his belt. Isaac never hesitated. He charged forward batting the man’s weapon aside and taking the fight to close quarters.

  Tanya darted past Isaac and the other man. She stared at the console, at a loss for what to do.

  Fog machines would need power. Electricity. Some sort of signal. If she cut the power, that would prevent the machines from dispersing the gas, wouldn’t it?

  She reached behind the console and found a switch by feel.

  The lights on the console blinked out.

  That was good, wasn’t it?

  The downed man groaned and pushed up with one hand.

  A hissing sound sent chills up her spine. Without power regulating the gas, it must disperse.

  She slapped the back of the console and the thing beeped to life.

  The hissing stopped.

  “Get away from that!” The downed man grabbed her around the waist.

  She kicked him, dislodging the hood from the rest of his suit. He flailed, falling backward and hitting some sort of box. The thing sputtered and a small cloud of fog rolled over the man’s body. He choked and his body jerked. He gasped, but the skin around his mouth, nose and eyes was already red and blistering.