by Bobby Nash
“I’m afraid the shooter has temporarily eluded us,” Snow said. “Don’t worry. We’ll catch her.”
Salizar looked as though he had been slapped. “Her? You are certain it was a woman?”
“Very.”
“How odd,” Salizar said.
“Very odd,” Jamal Salizar said.
“You don’t think women are capable of handling a rifle?” Snow asked. He motioned toward the chair opposite Salizar. “Do you mind?”
Salizar shrugged, them gave him a go ahead and sit gesture.
“Thank you.” Snow sat and leaned back comfortably, lifting the front two legs of the wooden chair off the floor. He didn’t say anything, and for several long seconds, the room grew eerily silent, as if everyone in attendance was holding his breath. Snow smiled at the awkwardness that didn’t seem to faze the man sitting across from him.
He decided to shift tactics. “So, who wants you dead, Owen?”
Salizar chuckled. “When you reach the level of success I’ve achieved, Agent Snow, there are many who would love to see me toppled from my position of authority, both in my own country as well as yours, it would seem.”
“And how many of those people do you think would want to kill you?”
“A great many, I would assume.”
“Maybe if you’d stop pissing people off,” Snow said, egging him on.
“My brother is not—” Jamal Salizar started, but his brother held up a hand to silence him. Angry, but obedient, he complied and backed down. Jamal’s fuse was definitely shorter than his brothers.
“I do not know what you think you know about me, but I am the victim in this entire ordeal,” Salizar said. “One of my men is dead. I have to explain to his family why their husband, their father, their brother, is not coming home from his visit to the United States of America. Your country is a dangerous place, Agent Snow.”
“You’ll get no argument from me there,” Snow said. Seeing the momentary befuddlement on the man’s face brought a smile to Snow’s own. “What, did you think I was going to get into a cultural debate with you? I don’t think so.”
Snow leaned forward, returning the chair back to all fours. He rested his elbows on the table. “Our job is to keep you alive for the remainder of the deliberations, Mr. Salizar. I intend to see that happens. It’s important.”
“Thank you,” Salizar said, although the words seemed to pain him.
“To that end, I need you to join me downstairs to go over some footage to see if you can identify anyone.”
“I’m afraid I cannot allow that,” the security man said. “This area is secure. I cannot say the same for the rest of this building.”
“Is it not possible to bring the footage here?” Salizar said.
“I’m afraid not,” Snow said. “We cannot remove it from our secure van downstairs.”
“Then, I’m afraid I cannot help you. I’m sorry.”
Snow pursed his lips as he thought it over. “How about this?” he said with a snap of his fingers. He twirled a finger around. “Are any of these guys up to date on the people you come in contact with on a day to day basis? Perhaps one of your security detail… or maybe your brother or aide could take a look. That way you won’t have to leave this secure location?”
Snow cast a look at Erich then to Daniel Keihall and back to Salizar.
“Well?”
Keihall leaned forward. “With your permission, sir, I can accompany the agent,” he said. “If they have video of the attacker, I should be able to identify her if she is someone known to us.”
“Are you certain, Daniel?” Salizar said. “You do not have to go.”
The aide smiled nervously. “I am sure, sir. Your safety is of paramount importance. If I can help keep you secure, I am happy to take the risk.”
“We’ll take good care of your man,” Snow said. “I give you my word.”
Salizar nodded. “Very well.”
Keihall walked over to stand next to Mac.
“His safety is in your hands, Agent Snow,” Salizar said. “Keep him safe.” He leaned forward. “And do try to stay on focus. I assume I’m understood?”
“I’m really not interested in anything except finding the shooter and putting an end to the danger to the deliberations. Whatever else you’re into isn’t my concern. I will keep your man safe and return him to you as soon as possible.”
“Very well.”
Snow nodded. He joined Mac and their guest. “After you, gentlemen,” he said.
They left the suite in silence. As Snow pushed the elevator call button, he could see that Mac had questions, but he shook his head, letting his friend know that now was not the time to ask.
When the elevator arrived, they rode down to ground level in silence. It wasn’t until they stepped inside the secure van parked in the luggage loading and unloading zone that any of them spoke.
“How you been, Brad?” Snow said, shaking the aide’s hand with a smile.
• • •
“Brad?” Mac asked, clearly confused. “Who the hell’s Brad?”
Snow smiled. “Tom MacClellan, FBI, allow me to introduce Brad Crosby. We… uh… worked for the same people. It’s okay, Brad. Mac’s one of the good guys.”
“Nice to meet you, Mac,” the man they had been introduced to as Daniel Keihall said, offering his hand.
Mac shook it, but still looked lost.
“Brad has been undercover with Salizar the past two years,” Snow explained. “Remember, I told you earlier that he’d been on our radar for awhile now. Brad was tapped to go in and earn the man’s trust. Looks like you’ve succeeded.”
“It hasn’t been easy,” Agent Crosby said. “Salizar is a cautious man. I moved into the aide position about ten months ago when his previous aide fell ill. It’s been tough getting close, but a month or so ago, he stopped shooing me out of the office when one of his business partners comes in.”
“Are you close to making your case?”
“Getting there. We’ve got some good intel. He’s into some dirty shit, but we still can’t prove his connection to terrorism.”
“Looks like he’s made himself at least one enemy,” Mac said. “People don’t generally contract a hit man to take you out if they like you.”
“True enough,” Snow said. “This shooter, she’s a pro, through and through. European based on her accent. She’s worked to lose it, but it’s there if you listen for it. You got any ideas who might have hired her, Brad?”
“None, but I’ll see what I can dig up. Salizar has been looking to expand his company’s global reach, including migrating into countries that don’t generally like outsiders. He’s bought a number of government officials in nearly every corner of the world.”
“And now he’s here,” Snow said.
“These negotiations are the first step toward Salizar Biotechnix getting a toehold in the US,” Crosby said. “So far, it’s legit, but until we can confirm whether he’s working with terrorists or not, we’ve got to keep an eye on him. I hate to say it, Abe, but we would probably all be better off if you just let the shooter take him out.”
“So I’ve been told,” Snow said. “It’s too late to second guess that now, though. It’s done.”
“There are rumors that Owen is looking to make the company legit, but he’s facing stiff opposition from certain parties in his country, also from his brother, who is definitely anti-American.”
“It’s all the rage these days, isn’t it?” Snow quipped.
“It is. Jamal has been quite vocal with his comments. He’s not a fan.”
Crosby pointed toward the badge wallet in Snow’s shirt pocket. “You really working with Homeland or you working this one for Mother?”
Snow shrugged. “I just happened to be here when the bullets started flying. The General pulled some strings to get me on the case in an official capacity, especially once I saw you were here. Why do you ask?”
“Even under as deep as I am, I hear things,” Cr
osby said.
“What things?” Snow asked, suddenly on the defensive.
“I heard you took three to the chest, for starters. Not a lot of folks get to walk away from something like that. Then I see you here so soon after. Well, you can imagine my surprise.”
Snow winced at the memory. “Well, truth be told, I only took one to the chest. One to the arm, too. The third one missed. I think.”
“You’ve always been a lucky S.O.B.,” Crosby reminded him. “What are you doing here? You should be recuperating… either laying low on a beach somewhere with a beer in your hand and your toes in the sand or sitting around watching cure videos on-line. I saw this one last week with this juggling chicken. It was hilarious.”
Snow laughed. “Believe it or not, that’s how I ended up here. Came home to visit family and friends.” He shrugged. “Go figure. I don’t know how to juggle.”
Crosby fished a thumb drive from his pocket. “Can you get this to Mother for me?”
“Anything good?” Snow asked, rolling it between his fingers.
“Not good enough to get me back home,” Crosby said. “Not yet.”
“I’ll make sure he gets it.”
“Thanks, brother. So, what do you need from me?”
Snow pushed a button on the computer and a still from the security camera opened. “Just what I said upstairs. You recognize her?”
Crosby leaned in close. “She doesn’t look familiar, sorry. She a pro or one of the true believers?”
“True believers?” Mac asked.
“Salizar has been expanding his corporation for some time now,” Crosby explained. “He’s paid off the right people to take land from some of the locals who had the misfortune of owning land that he wanted. It’s like ’imminent domain’ only at gunpoint.”
Mac couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “And, he can get away with that?”
“Pretty much,” Snow said.
“You’d be amazed what you can get when you pay off the right people,” Crosby added. “As much as we hate it, it’s not illegal back in his home country. Immoral, yes, but not illegal.”
“That’s not right.”
“You’ll get no argument from me, Agent McClellan,” Crosby said. “Sorry I couldn’t help with the ID, Abe.”
“No worries, Brad,” Snow said. “I assumed as much. Just wanted to make sure. Plus, it’s damn good to see you man.”
“You too. Can you do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Check in on my family.”
“I can do that,” Snow said. “Where do they think you are?”
“They don’t know. I told them it was classified. They understand.”
The two men exchanged a manly hug. “Consider it done. You be careful, brother.”
“You too.” Crosby offered a hand to Mac. “Keep an eye on this guy, okay?”
“You got it. Watch your back, Agent Crosby.”
“Thanks. I better get back before Salizar gets nervous and sends someone looking for me.”
“I’ll have Agent Redding escort you back upstairs,” Snow said. “Stay frosty.”
After Agent Crosby left the van, with Redding and two other agents in tow, Snow turned to Mac. “What are you thinking?”
“I haven’t dealt with too many professional assassins, but something tells me that just because your new girlfriend missed doesn’t mean she’s going to pack it in and head home. My guess is she’ll try to hit Salizar again.”
“You’re right,” Snow said. “This isn’t over.”
8.
Abraham Snow was exhausted by the time he returned home.
After spending the rest of the afternoon with Homeland Security and the FBI, Snow finally left the scene around midnight and headed back to his grandfather’s place. The clock was only minutes away from announcing one o’clock by the time he arrived. He wasn’t surprised to see his grandfather waiting for him when he walked into the main house.
“Long day, huh?” Archer Snow said when his grandson walked into the kitchen.
Exhausted, Snow dropped into a chair and blew out a breath. “Long enough. This wasn’t exactly the kind of R and R I had in mind when I came here.”
“I’m sorry, kid,” Archer said. “I just wanted to surprise you with Samantha being in town. You know I wouldn’t have knowingly put any of you in harm’s way.”
“I know, Grandpa,” Snow said. “It’s not your fault. Sometimes, shit just happens.”
“Don’t I know it. Why don’t you get some sleep? We can talk again in the morning.”
“Good idea,” Snow said as he pushed himself away from the table. “You know what the worst part is?”
“What?”
“I missed dinner with you, Sam, and Doug,” Snow said. “I was really looking forward to that.”
“There’s always tomorrow, kiddo. They understood. Besides, we’re not going anywhere.”
Snow waved his hand. “Yeah. Yeah. That’s what they all say.”
Before archer Snow could respond, his grandson was out the door. He watched as he slowly crossed the drive and climbed the steps to the loft apartment over the garage. He was breathing heavy by the time he reached the top step.
• • •
Abraham Snow’s dreams were chaotic that night.
They were filled with violent images of running and fighting with gunshots and explosions galore. He was running down the tunnel that separated the hotel from the mall’s food court, much as he had done earlier that day. This time though, the tunnel seemed to stretch on and on without end. He stopped, looked back the way he came. It too stretched off into infinity. He was trapped in a stark white tube, unable to make out anything beyond the curvature of the windows.
Pain stabbed at his chest. He grit his teeth and tried to ignore it.
“Hello,” he called, and it echoed down the tube only to come back from the opposite direction moments later. Am I running around in circles? he wondered. How did I get here? Am I trapped?
He picked a direction and ran for all he was worth, his hearth thundering in his chest. The sound was so loud that it reminded him of the propellers on a twin engine cargo plane.
There! In the distance, he saw a speck, growing larger the closer he got to it. Is that a door? Hoping beyond hope that freedom was finally close at hand, Snow ran faster.
It wasn’t a door.
Standing in the middle of the tube was a familiar figure. In contrast to the stark white of the tunnel, he was dressed all in black, with only a white shirt cuss and a white tie punctuating the inky blackness. His suit all but shone against the brightness around them.
Snow, of course, recognized him immediately.
Ortega!
The dark one help up his hand and pointed a gun toward him, but Snow couldn’t slow down, couldn’t control his forward momentum. It was as if his legs had decided to work independently of the rest of his body.
The gun exploded in a flash of gold and orange, the discharge echoing along the tube like a signal to some far off place.
Suddenly, Snow was no longer running.
He lay on the stark white floor, a crimson stain flowing outward from beneath him. The blood pool continued to expand, moving in both directions within the tube until the floor was red in every direction. The blood flowed up the legs of the man who had freed it from the body of Abraham Snow. The black suit became red, and it fit perfectly.
Ortega laughed.
His voice echoed in the tube.
Snow tried to move, but he was spent, done for. All around him, the white light was being replaced. He could see through the windows now. There was a jungle beyond, dark and foreboding. Something evil waited for him out there.
It would not wait for long.
The jungle pushed against the glass until cracks appeared. The glass shattered and the wilderness reclaimed the tunnel as its own until he was lying atop a grassy field, surrounded by nature at its finest.
Here, in this place, there wa
s no need for snow.
Snow killed plants.
The jungle moved in for the kill.
Vines wrapped around his body, pulling him in varying directions.
The grip was so tight he feared his limbs might shatter under their pull.
He gasped for breath as the green leafy vines filled his mouth, nose, ears, and eyes. The jungle was swallowing him whole, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Abraham Snow tried to scream—
—and woke up.
When he sat up in the bed, he was sweating. As in the dream, his heart was thundering in his chest. For the first time since he’d been shot, he felt like he was going to die.
Once he calmed himself, sleep eluded him. He checked the time on his phone. It had only been three hours since he fell into the bed. He was so tired that he dropped into bed fully clothed. Since getting back sleep did not look like it was going to happen, he got up. He booted up his laptop and checked his email. As part of his agreement with the FBI and Homeland, all of the reports that had been generated regarding the shooting had been forwarded to him. He read for the next hour, going through all of the official statements until his head hurt. Sadly, despite the massive amount of information at his fingertips, he was no closer to solving this mystery than he had before.
Snow understood that a good investigation takes time, but patience was not one of his virtues. He fired off a quick text message to his grandfather, letting him know where to find him when he awoke in the morning, changed clothes quickly, then hopped in his borrowed car for an early morning drive.
He’d always found comfort in the open road.
This morning, however, he felt anything but comfortable. The pain in his chest had subsided somewhat but hadn’t gone away completely.
He hadn’t planned to head back to the hotel, but that’s where he ended up nonetheless. The crime scene barricades were gone, and the hotel was once again open for business despite the heavy law enforcement presence. Sunrise was still a couple of hours away. Snow showed his badge to the guard at the entrance and parked in the loading area near Homeland Security’s surveillance van. He rapped his knuckles against the door and asked for a report when the night shift agent on duty answered. He wasn’t surprised to hear that nothing new had popped up since he’d left the apartment.