by Jay Posey
“So… bye,” he said, flashing his easy smile. And without another word, he turned and trotted down the stairs, turned right, and started his route to the meeting point at a brisk pace.
Wright stood there and watched him go. She wanted to be angry with him, wanted to hold him solely responsible for the situation they were in. But no matter how hard she tried, her heart wouldn’t let her. He was just a man, after all. Everything she’d ever done, she’d had a team to do it with. He was out here alone, finding his own way. Making his own way. He’d made a mistake, that was certain. An enormous one. One that was finally too big for him to handle on his own. But it was still just a mistake. Wright had lost count of the number of times she’d screwed up, only to have a teammate pick up her slack. Who did Elliot have, she wondered.
Her mind answered its own musing. Them. He had them. And that was it.
They’d find a way. That’s what they did.
Wright entered the apartment building, gave it a couple of minutes in the dim, silent entry hall, and then exited out the opposite side. Elliot’s route would loop out and around. Hers would intersect his not long after he passed and, if her timing wasn’t too far off, she’d be able to shadow him the rest of the way to the rendezvous. He had talked them through his planned surveillance detection route; a shallow, ineffective one more for show than to actually pick up any tails. The target was supposed to come alone, but of course he wouldn’t. And according to Elliot, they would make sure he saw at least one of them, just to reinforce the point. It was the ones they didn’t want him to see they all had to worry about. And it was those that his route was meant to expose to the Outriders.
It didn’t take them long. Wright was just reaching her point of intersection and starting to scan for Elliot when Thumper came in over the team communications.
“Mark one,” she said. “Grey coat, glasses, off your left shoulder, about a block behind Elliot… half-block ahead of you, Mir.”
Wright kept her hands in her pockets, her head down, but directed her attention in the general direction. Sure enough, across the wide street, a man in a grey coat was walking at a brisk pace. And further down the street, Elliot. Timing had been pretty good after all.
“Got a possible shooter here,” Mike said a minute or two later. “Building nine, third story, second room over from the easternmost corner.”
During their far-too-brief planning session, they’d numbered all the buildings around the courtyard Elliot had arranged for his meeting site. “Not a bad spot,” he added. “But not a great one, either.”
“That makes two,” Thumper said.
“Watcher on the wall,” Sahil chimed in a moment later. An elevated position adjacent to the courtyard, with good lines of sight on the western approach, but too exposed for a shooter, according to Mike. “Woman, brown coat and hat. You got her, Mike?”
“Negative,” Mike answered. “Don’t have a line on her from here. Should I reposition?”
“Negative, hold there,” Wright said. “Sahil, Watcher’s yours unless you hear otherwise.”
“Watcher’s mine, roger,” Sahil said. “Movin’ to.”
“Three,” Thumper said.
Wright continued to shadow the man in the grey coat, as he trailed Elliot. At one point, Elliot took a right, requiring the man to cross the street to follow him. Grey Coat wasn’t there to track Elliot to his destination; both parties already knew that final location. His job was to watch for any extra hands Elliot might have brought along with him.
The man in the grey coat undoubtedly noticed her when he checked the road before crossing it, but if he’d had any suspicion that Wright was following him, he didn’t reveal any signs of it. Not that he would, if he was a pro. To be safe, Wright kept her eyes in front of her, blissfully ignorant of her surroundings, and continued on her way another two blocks before she cut over on a parallel track. She fully expected at some point that Grey Coat would drop off the trail, and his replacement would take over. She hoped she could catch the hand-off herself. If she missed the moment, Thumper would catch it on one of the skeeters, but Wright preferred getting to see them firsthand, with her own eyes. Easier to size them up that way.
As she completed her parallel circuit, and was rejoining the caravan of spies, Thumper came in over comms again.
“They just handed off, Mir,” she said. “Grey Coat’s going perpendicular. Replacement is a woman, dark hair, long coat with some sort of dark pattern on it… huh.”
“What’s the ‘huh’ for?” Wright asked.
“She kinda looks like you,” Thumper answered.
“Great,” Wright said.
“Hope I don’t shoot the wrong one,” Mike said.
“That’s four,” Thumper said. “Elliot said three to five, in addition to the primary. Anyone got eyes on any other suspicious persons?”
No one responded with new targets. Wright wasn’t able to get a look at her twin before Elliot made the turn for the final approach to the courtyard. She didn’t want to risk it this close to the site, in case Grey Coat had warned the doppelganger to be on the lookout. Wright continued past the route, and finished her circuit around the perimeter, looking for any stragglers they may have missed. She couldn’t pick any out. If only that guaranteed they weren’t there.
With the four extra bad guys identified, Wright loosely assigned the targets.
“Sahil’s got the Watcher on the Wall. Mike you’ve got the shooter, obviously. I’ll take the man in the Grey Coat. And Thumper. Going to need you to do a little work on my twin.”
“On it,” Thumper said.
“Lucky,” Mike replied.
“Get set,” Wright said. “And hold for my call.”
Wright crossed over to her final position, and readied for action. Once it went down, they were all going to have to move fast. The order was going to be the trickiest part. Assuming they hadn’t overlooked anyone.
It was another bad meet. Elliot knew that. He’d known it when he set it up. There was no way around it. And as usual, he was walking in, deaf, blind, practically naked. Sahil had tried to convince him to carry a pistol, or at least wear a vest, but Elliot had refused both. He’d never had either before, and he knew anything he changed about himself was likely to be taken by Gregor as a warning sign. He’d even declined to wear any comm device to connect him to the team, fearing that keeping them informed on their progress might interfere with his ability to read the situation. And he was most definitely going to need all his focus to play this one right.
The space where they were supposed to meet was an open, brick courtyard. Elliot stepped out into it first, even though there was no sign of Gregor yet. If they wanted to kill him, he was giving them the perfect opportunity. There were a dozen good angles. He knew them all, because Mike had painstakingly evaluated and categorized each of them. Elliot couldn’t help but glance up at the one in the four-story building a few blocks over. That was the one Mike had said he’d use for sure if he was going to take Elliot out there in the courtyard. Clean sightlines, easy access in and out, not an obvious location from the courtyard, but an easy shot from elevation. The windows in the building were all dark. Not that Elliot would have seen his would-be murderer even if there was a sniper stationed there. In fact, he never would have even noticed that particular building if Mike hadn’t pointed it out to him. And just then, he wasn’t especially grateful that Mike had.
But Elliot knew if they wanted to get him, they would get him. He’d known that for a long time. Ever since he had volunteered to serve as an undeclared officer for the Directorate. Somehow coming to terms with his own death many years ago had made it easier to take all the ridiculous risks over his career that had kept him alive for so long. At least, up to this point.
Elliot moved under one of the lights in the courtyard, presenting himself as conspicuously as he could manage. He could almost feel the crosshairs on him. But he figured this too was a show of courtesy to Gregor; giving Gregor’s people a chance to ta
ke the first shot, before Gregor himself had to commit. Maybe Elliot’s willingness to step out first would ease the other party’s concerns of compromise.
Gregor was out there, Elliot knew. He was watching, evaluating. Moving his people around, undoubtedly. Elliot stood there in the open, in the light, waiting as the game pieces moved all around him. He would wait, however long it took.
It was nearly twenty minutes later that a figure appeared in the wide arch at the opposite end of the courtyard, a shadowy silhouette back-lit by the ambient light from the street behind him.
Elliot didn’t move or acknowledge the figure, once more giving Gregor the opportunity to initiate. Assuming it was indeed Gregor, and not a decoy.
Another five minutes passed before the individual moved. Instead of stepping forward into the courtyard, it receded, and a second figure came out from under the arch. So the first had been a decoy after all.
Gregor.
“Well,” he said. “Let’s get on with it.”
Elliot stepped forward out of the light, raising both hands in front of him as he did so, in a show of being unarmed. And as he brought his hands back down to his sides, he hoped he hadn’t done it too quickly for the Outriders to catch the cue.
“Target’s confirmed,” Wright said. There had been a fifth man after all, and that man was now providing close security for the primary. His proximity to the courtyard made him Wright’s responsibility, but there was no way she could take out the man in the Grey Coat and cover the distance to the fifth man in time. “First was a decoy, say again, first individual was a decoy. Decoy is mine. Mike, I need you to take Grey Coat. Do you have a shot?”
“Hold one,” Mike said. Wright held her place, resisting the urge to change positions now in hopes that Mike could get the shot, knowing every second they delayed increased Elliot’s danger. But if she moved too early and had to double back, the man in the grey coat would certainly notice. Ten seconds later, Mike answered, “Roger that, I can get him. First or second?”
“Shooter first,” Wright said. “Moving to Decoy, hold for my call.”
She left her position then, restraining her pace, circling around, losing time. She hoped Elliot could keep the man talking.
It took her over two minutes to reach her new position. The Decoy was watching whatever was going down in the courtyard, his back exposed.
“Wright’s in place,” she reported. “Execute, execute, execute.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she left her position and crossed the street. And with them, the team went into action, working their targets from outside in, each layer of security peeled away to expose the next.
“Shooter’s down,” Mike said.
And seconds later, Sahil responded, “Watcher on the wall, down.”
“Twin, down,” Thumper reported. As the reports from her teammates came in, Wright closed the distance to Gregor’s nearest guardian. Ten meters.
“Grey coat, neutralized,” Mike said. “That makes four, last one’s yours, Mir.”
Seven meters. Wright couldn’t tell if she was going too fast or too slow.
She was still five meters away when her target started to turn.
“Don’t worry,” Elliot said, “I won’t take too much of your time.”
“I know you won’t,” Gregor answered. And in a motion as casual as brushing lint from his sleeve, Gregor drew something from under his coat and pointed it at Elliot. If the movement had been faster, Elliot might have understood his danger. As it was, he simply stood there, trying to figure out what Gregor was doing when the something in his hand emitted two muffled pops, and currents of raw pain lanced through Elliot’s belly.
It was only when he found himself sitting on the ground, struggling to breathe through his spasming diaphragm, that he realized he’d been shot.
“There,” Gregor said, standing over him. “Now. Whatever you had to say, you should probably say it quickly.”
“I was wrong,” Elliot gasped out through gritted teeth. He pressed his palms into his abdomen, trying to staunch the bleeding.
“I’m sorry?” Gregor said. “Speak up, Elliot. You’re mumbling.”
“I was wrong,” Elliot repeated. “About… the guy you grabbed.”
Gregor holstered his weapon with a sigh, and settled into a crouch in front of Elliot.
“No, you weren’t,” he said. “I confirmed it through other sources, you see. Suffering from a little guilt, are we?”
Elliot shook his head. Where was his back up? He hoped they had seen his signal.
“Oh? Huh. I had heard that was common amongst traitors,” Gregor said. “Particularly here, at the end.”
“I’m… not… a traitor,” Elliot said.
“A man of opportunities, if you prefer,” Gregor said, and he smiled his corpse grin. “Formerly, a man of opportunities. Pretty sure you’re all out of those now. Goodbye, Elliot. You’ve been… useful.”
Gregor patted Elliot on the side of the face, and then stood and started to walk towards the exit. Elliot had to stop him somehow. But there wasn’t much he could do from the ground, with two rounds in his belly. Unless…
“The ship,” Elliot said.
Gregor stopped, stood in place for a few seconds. Was he waiting to see if Elliot would say more? Or was he trying to decide what to do? He hadn’t known that Elliot knew about SUNGRAZER; neither that it existed, nor that Gregor was aware of her.
Still no sign of the others. Maybe they’d decided it was too dangerous and they’d bailed out. Or maybe they’d left him out to dry. The thought made him sad, but he couldn’t really blame them if that’s what they’d done. Maybe they were off raiding Gregor’s office, while Elliot sat here and bled to death.
If that was the case, then he’d still buy them as much time as he could.
“You…” Elliot continued, forcing the words out despite his protesting lungs, “shouldn’t have messed… with the ship…”
“What ship, Elliot?”
“You know… her name.”
Gregor turned at that, strode back in front of Elliot and crouched again, so close his nose almost touched Elliot’s. Angry now.
“What about her?” he growled.
“You should have… left it. They’re going to find you, because of it.”
“Not unless they hurry,” Gregor said with a chuckle. “I really hope you didn’t bring me all the way out here just to try to feed me more of your stories.”
Elliot’s mouth moved, but the words he’d meant to say didn’t come. He squeezed shut his eyes against the wave of pain rolling through his gut.
“Stop gaping,” Gregor said. “It makes you look like a fish.”
“I… didn’t,” Elliot said.
“Didn’t what?”
“Bring you… out… for stories,” Elliot managed to say.
“Are you sure?” said Gregor.
Elliot nodded.
“Then what, exactly, did you bring me out here for, Elliot?”
Elliot forced his eyes open, just so he could see the look on Gregor’s face.
“I brought you out…” Elliot said, “for them.”
Gregor’s eyes narrowed at the words. And then they widened, and he started to turn.
But Wright was already there.
The blow had been aimed at the base of his neck, but it caught him instead on the cheek just under his eye socket, and flashed electric blue as the stunner in her hand fired off on contact. Gregor sprawled limp, like Wright had punched the life right out of him. She hovered over the man for a moment like a storm cloud ready to deliver a second dose of lightning if necessary.
It wasn’t. She seemed disappointed.
Once it was clear Gregor wasn’t getting up any time soon, she turned and looked at Elliot.
“You get him?” Elliot asked. His eyes didn’t want to focus.
“We got him,” she answered.
“I thought you… had a stunner,” Elliot said. He was pretty sure he’d se
en a flash of light, but maybe he’d imagined it. “Did you have to hit him?”
“Didn’t have to,” she answered. She knelt down beside him. “How bad is it?”
“Eh… nothing a couple of pints of blood and… a couple of fewer holes can’t fix…” he replied. The pain wasn’t so bad now, for some reason. That probably wasn’t a good sign. Her face became clearer all of a sudden, and he realized his eyes had teared up, and just now spilled over. He hoped she didn’t think he was crying. That would be so embarrassing.
“Lie back,” she said. “Lie down, let me see.”
Elliot tried to comply, but once he started back, his abdominal muscles refused to cooperate. He would have smacked his head on the brick if Wright hadn’t caught him and eased him to the ground. She moved his hands out of the way; he hadn’t realized they’d still been pressed over the wounds.
“Told you,” he said.
“Told me what?”
“That you wouldn’t have to shoot me.”
“Sahil,” Wright said, “Sahil I need you here, now.”
Elliot didn’t hear a response. But based on the sudden appearance, either Sahil had been mere steps away, or Elliot had blacked out briefly. The man’s face materialized above him, close, looking down at him.
“You’re OK, Elliot,” Sahil was saying, though his voice sounded strangely thin. “We’re takin’ care of ya, don’t worry.”
“Did you get him?” Elliot asked. He’d meant to ask before. Or had he already?
“Yeah, we got him. Be still now. I’m gonna get you patched up, you’re gonna be all right.”
Elliot smiled, warm and drowsy.
“You have a nice face, Sahil,” Elliot said. “But you’re a terrible liar.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Lincoln was slipping. He knew it. He could feel it.
He’d been through the training before, on multiple occasions, had learned a number of techniques to minimize the effectiveness of every known interrogation tactic. He could name them while they were being used on him, and in naming them, he could master them. Counter them. In some of the darkest corners of his training, instructors had tortured him to help him understand it, to take away the fear of it, and to educate him on how to combat its effects. But here, now, everything he’d ever learned was failing him.