“That just takes us back to the same question. Why Kelsey?” Connor asked. “I think Shelby’s onto something. Let’s hear her out.”
All righty then.
Shelby elbowed Mark, her head spinning with what she thought she knew. “Think about it, Agent Houston. Mr. Becker was polite with Kelsey last night, like he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. You weren’t there yet, but I was, and I know what I saw. He didn’t get belligerent with her at all, and he wasn’t rude. At least, I didn’t think so. He kept calling her ma’am like you guys do.” Just like you guys.
An unsettling idea popped into her head. Becker wasn’t a bad guy. He was like Gabe and Zack. Ingrained with a deep respect for women.
Marks stood so close to her that it was like peering up a sheer rock wall just to look him in the eye. Shelby blinked, stabbed her glasses back to where they belonged and took a half-step away from him to shake off a sudden case of nerves. His size intimidated, darn it.
She found herself needing just a little more space to speak to this guy, despite the fact that she’d just overstepped her bounds and elbowed him like he wasn’t Gabe’s boss. She gulped at her audacity, but kept on going. “What if he’s on our, umm, I mean, your side? What if he’s been trying to protect Kelsey all along, like he said? Just like you’ve been trying to do?”
“Doubt it. He’s FBI.” Mark crossed his arms over his broad chest like that ended the argument. “You saw Benson. I’ve met very few FBI who can think outside their bureaucratic box.”
Okay, so Mark didn’t like the FBI. She couldn’t blame him, but still...
“I just know he was polite when he arrested me,” she said. A frisson of insight connected the dots of her last encounter with Becker like a lightning bolt. She turned to Gabe. “Oh, my gosh. You got out of those cuffs quickly. And why was the door to the police cruiser left unlatched? It’s almost as if—”
“He wanted us to escape,” Gabe finished her thought, his green eyes lit with approval. “I think you’re right. I don’t like the guy, but Shelby makes sense.”
Mark seemed to be listening. He glanced at Ember. “Where’s Winston now?”
“The last press release placed him at the National Security Counsel. White House,” Ember replied.
“And Becker?”
“Ah, Senior Agent Houston?” A timid blonde woman stood behind Mark, her hand lifted as if she needed permission to speak. “I’ve been watching him. He’s parked on Constitution Avenue.”
“You have? You’re sure it’s him?”
“Yes, sir,” she said quietly. “As you know, there are a lot of traffic cams in that area. Another man just joined him. They’re both inside the vehicle.”
“Same black sedan?”
“Yes, Boss.”
“Let me guess. This other guy have a black hood over his face?”
“Yes.”
Mark growled. “Figures.”
“Has to be Becker and his buddy. Let’s go get them,” Izza exclaimed eagerly.
Shelby liked her instantly, and not just for her gorgeous dark eyes. Izza eyed Landon as if she wanted to smack him, too.
“Not yet. We need all players on the board first.” Mark turned to the timid blonde. “The minute Becker or his friend move, I want to know, Lisa. You understand?”
“Yes, sir.” She went dutifully back to her desk.
Gabe and Shelby returned to his.
“Izza and Steven, check FBI and Metro PD activity in the area. See if they’re watching Becker, too,” Mark ordered.
“Got it.” Steven and Izza returned to their computers. He worked his keyboard for a minute before he answered. “No D.C. units in the vicinity. It’s quiet. Too quiet.”
“No FBI, either,” Izza added.
Maverick called out, “I’ve got Fallon.”
The excitement of the hunt spurred Shelby. So this was what Gabe did for a living. Scary, but exciting. She stuck close to his side, peering over his shoulder while Mark stepped in beside her at Maverick’s desk. A live satellite feed showed a black Escalade parking alongside the marina’s dry dock.
“Fallon’s got a boat?” Mark asked. “Can’t be. Zoom in. It’s not the right shape.”
Maverick took the satellite image in tight and close. No rocket or missile, like she half expected. Just some guy stripping a canvas cover off a white vehicle.
“Zoom in closer,” Shelby ordered, nearly elbowing Mark out of her way. Again. She caught herself just in time. Graciously, he made room for her.
“Yes, ma’am.” Gabe’s friend took the satellite image to a higher magnification, just enough to make out the words FBI SWAT on the side of a van.
Mark hissed. “Damn. That’s one of those F-150 cargo vans. He’s repainted it. That’s where the bomb is. He’ll be untraceable once he decides to transport the bomb. Any other vans in that lot?”
“I’m not seeing the other two,” Maverick answered. “I’ll keep looking.”
Shelby caught that timid woman out of the corner of her eye again. Lisa didn’t seem to fit with the rest of the agents. Everyone else acted with authority, but she tiptoed around as if she needed permission to speak.
“What?” Mark snapped when he noticed her.
“Ummm, Becker is moving again, sir,” she said softly.
“You need to speak up, Channing.” He stepped past her, snapping his fingers at Gabe. “Sit on Becker. I want to know what he’s doing before he does it.”
“Got it.” Gabe commandeered Lisa’s computer while she sat meekly beside him.
Shelby moved out of Mark’s way and joined Gabe. Irritation shuddered off Mark. He didn’t seem to have patience for Lisa’s inability to speak up anymore.
“Is Fallon moving yet?” Mark called to Maverick.
“No. He’s in the van. Still parked.”
“Is he alone?”
“Yes. In the driver’s seat.”
“Any sign of the Vice President? Anywhere? Anyone?” Mark called out, the aggravation in his voice rising with every question.
“No,” Ember shouted at the same time that Maverick and Taylor responded with the same answer. Apparently, everyone was searching for Winston. It made Shelby’s head spin how these men and women worked in tandem with each other.
“Mark,” David interrupted. “Don’t ask how I know, but the FBI just intercepted a message from a burn phone. Short and sweet. POTUS. WWII. 1900. Go.”
Shelby glanced at the clock on the wall, the same as Mark. What the heck did that mean?
Mark raked a hand through his hair. “Shit. President Adams will be at the World War II Memorial at seven? Tonight? Is that your take?”
David nodded. “It’s a go. Chaos Now intends to kick off their revolution in less than two hours.”
“Damn it. There must be some special program there tonight, then. But where is Winston? If this is supposed to be about him, where the hell is the guy? Team!” Mark bellowed. “Everyone. Front and center. Now!”
Shelby stepped back from the fierce energy radiating off Gabe’s boss. Despite his loud call to order, Mark stood with his head bowed, his shoulders heaving and his back rigid. His fists clenched and unclenched. He seemed locked in indecision.
She held her breath. For a second, she thought maybe he was—praying?
Everyone circled him in silence. Gabe, too. She interlocked her hand with his while the seconds passed.
When Mark lifted his head, sparks flashed from his eyes. He’d changed and his people had changed with him. A veritable current of electricity crackled from agent to agent.
“David, take Conner, Steven, Maverick, Channing and Landon. Intercept Fallon. Shoot him if you have to, just take him down. Call the FBI en route. Advise the situation and demand an immediate assist. Tell them you need EOD on site, that he has the bomb.” Mark turned to the rest of his people. “Rory, Izza, and Taylor, you’re with me. Ember, you’re command central. Call the FBI and tell ’em what we know. Homeland Security, too. Get them the hell out there on
the streets with us. Keep us informed. Keep us safe.”
“Yes, Mark.” She settled into her position in front of the bank of computer monitors. Everyone else scrambled for their gear bags and the elevator. The room emptied.
Shelby stood stock still. Holy cow. What just happened?
Eerie silence filled the work bay. Gabe didn’t look too happy being left behind.
“Why aren’t you going with them? You have a city to save,” she asked.
“No, ma’am. I don’t. I’m already on duty.”
“What? Me? Am I your duty?”
He nodded, his eye on the elevator.
“But we can’t just sit here while a crazy guy blows up Washington D.C.”
He took a seat at Ember’s elbow and nodded to the chair at his side. “Yes. We can. And we will.”
Chapter Thirty-One
He said the right words, but damn. Gabe couldn’t sit still. Those were his guys out there. His team. Watching and listening to them in action wasn’t much help for the odd man out who could only twiddle his thumbs while everyone else engaged in what very well could be doomsday.
When Ember turned the squawk box up so Shelby could listen in, Gabe removed his earpiece. No need for an annoying echo in his head when he was already sidelined and pissed. He pulled his chair in beside Ember and hunkered down to watch the game unfold. Shelby took the chair next to him.
Dread pervaded the nearly empty office. Gabe struggled to get a grip, but too much depended on The TEAM, and they were so few. How could they conquer on two fronts and do it without loss of life? Acid pitched into his gut. Plain and simple, they couldn’t. Another one of his friends would die tonight. Maybe all. Once again, all he could do was watch. Shit!
“Becker’s circled back around the block.” Ember’s very patient voice went out to all team members. “He’s parked on Virginia now, due north of the World War II Memorial.”
“Still in his car?” Mark’s disembodied question came back.
“Yes.”
“David? Any law enforcement in sight? FBI? Anyone?” Mark again.
“If they’re out here with us, they’re in ghost mode. I haven’t sighted anyone yet. Not even a vehicle which is unusual. My team and I are proceeding to the marina. ETA in twenty.”
Gabe watched the traffic cam feeds that caught David and his team’s steady progress. Two other cameras captured Becker’s sedan parked at the curb on Virginia Avenue. Still others tracked Mark’s approach. Rory drove.
No damned Metro PD or FBI vehicles in sight. Where the hell was everyone? How did the FBI and Metro not know the President would arrive at the World War II Memorial shortly? The usual gaggle of press vans and media vehicles were there. Why not the nation’s most lethal watchdogs?
It made no sense. They had to be undercover, not like that made Gabe feel any better. Was everyone walking into a trap? Sure as hell felt like it, but what else could this band of patriots do? Walk away from the President in his time of need?
Gabe grunted at his dismal thoughts. The TEAM might be a ragtag mix of soldiers, sailors, Marines, but none of them would turn their back on their country.
“Ember. Contact Metro PD and FBI again. I’d at least like their concurrence before we proceed,” Mark ordered, his voice tight.
“Copy that.” She turned in her seat to connect another line.
“Park here,” Mark instructed. “We go the rest of the way on foot.”
Rory eased the SUV alongside the curb, facing Becker’s parked a ways north on the street. Weapons were racked. Rounds chambered. Pistols returned to holsters.
Showdown.
With each passing second, Gabe’s conscience pricked. I should be there.
Vehicle doors opened and closed. Boots were now on the ground, his team fully engaged. The traffic cam caught sight of them en route to Becker’s sedan.
Damn it to hell! I should be there.
“Switching to video cam,” Mark muttered.
Damned time. Gabe leaned forward as the scene from Mark’s cam unfolded in jerky, boots on the ground transmission. These cameras were smaller than the normal helmet cams. They snapped to the side of a ball cap or the stem of dark glasses. Mark must have his TEAM cap on. He panned to the opposite side of the street, then to the black sedan. Similar feeds came from Izza, Taylor, and Rory.
For now, all agents had concealed their weapons beneath their jackets. The only thing that might give any of them away was The TEAM’s gold logo on the left chest of their jackets. Unfortunately, that was the only tell a Secret Service sniper needed to bring down anyone they deemed suspicious.
“Mark,” Ember said firmly. “Metro PD is unaware of any altercation in your vicinity. Said they’ll get back to me. FBI requests you stand down.”
“Not ’til they step up to the plate,” he shot back at her. “Tell them we’re out here doing their job for them.”
“I’ll tell them.” She relayed the message and blinked a few times in surprise. “Hmm. They hung up on me. Go figure.”
Shelby latched onto Gabe’s hand, whispering to him what he already knew. “You should be out there.”
No shit. He blocked her advice to focus on the video and audio feeds. With every step his friends took, Gabe’s heart rate increased. Like the good, dumb jarheads they were, they just kept pushing forward until he wanted to scream at them to STOP! Everything felt wrong.
Mark requested status, still on point and as calm as ever. “David?”
“Fallon just pulled the FBI van out of the marina. He’s headed your way. We’re on him.”
“Ember. Metro PD?”
“Nega—”
“Mark!” David called out. “FBI’s everywhere. They’re here. They’re—”
Gabe jumped to his feet. Shit! I knew it! A legion of FBI vehicles and FBI SWAT had come out of nowhere, surrounding David and his team.
“Ember!” Mark barked. “What’s happening?”
“David’s team is completely boxed in by three FBI vans. SWAT, too. They’ve got him on the ground. They’re cuffing him, Maverick and—everyone.”
Gabe watched helplessly while FBI SWAT manhandled his teammates and effectively took them out of the game.
“David and his guys lost their comm links, Mark,” Ember said quietly. “The FBI was there all along.”
“Shit,” Gabe bellowed. “Get the hell out of there. It’s a trap.”
“Not going to happen,” Mark replied grimly. “We finish this. Tonight.”
“They’re dragging them into vans. Wow, they’re awful rough. One of those FBI guys just punched Connor in the stomach,” Ember added in disbelief. “Mark, are you there?”
He blew out a deep breath. “Here. Damn it. What else?”
“Well, umm, umm,” Ember stuttered.
“Ember! Where’s Becker?”
“Coming straight to you,” Gabe answered for her, the tight grip of panic settling in at his throat. “He and his buddy are on foot. Right behind the tree on the sidewalk. Between you and the sedan. See them yet?”
“Copy that. I see them now.”
Mark and his team continued toward Becker.
“Three ambulances approaching from the west on Constitution,” Ember advised more calmly.
“Say again? I don’t hear any sirens,” Mark said.
“They’re running silent on your six. Wait. There’s four now.”
“Get your ass out of there,” Gabe urged. “I’m telling you. Something’s not right.”
Mark ignored Gabe’s prompt to retreat. “Got Becker and his buddy in my sights.”
Becker and his friend approached with long, confident strides. The other man’s face was as indiscernible as before, this time shielded behind dark glasses, the upturned collar of his jacket, and a ball cap with the brim pulled low.
An ambulance rolled by, temporarily blocking Gabe’s view. “Move, damn it.”
Mark grunted. “What the h...”
“Boss?” Gabe asked. “Say again.”
> Mark never came back. When the ambulance passed by, he and Rory were on their hands and knees. Taylor and Izza, too.
“Rory! Oh, my God! Mark! They shot Rory!” Ember came unglued. “They shot all of them!”
Gabe jumped to his feet. “No,” he ground out. “They couldn’t have. I heard no gunfire.”
“But... But...”
He dropped his hand to her shoulder. “Knock it off. They’re not dead, damn it. Watch.”
He gulped as the worst-case scenario unfolded before his eyes. Mark’s earpiece would have relayed the loud pop of gunshots. Hell, Taylor, Rory, and Izza’s headpieces would all have caught the same report, but none of them had. What the hell was going on?
Becker pointed to the now prone figures on the sidewalk. Two men who Gabe assumed were medics hurried out of the nearest ambulance to the men. Becker crouched near Mark and tugged his earpiece out of his ear.
The last thing Gabe heard was the drawl, “You won’t need this anymore.”
The bastard had the gall to smile up at the traffic cam as if he knew exactly where to look. As if he knew Gabe were watching.
“No!” Ember shrieked. “God, No!”
The scene got more bizarre. Paramedics appeared out of nowhere. They lifted Mark and his team onto gurneys in no time.
None of the agents resisted. Not once. They all certainly looked dead.
Wait just a damned minute.
Gabe brushed Ember out of his way, needing to see two of those medic’s faces up close and personal. He captured a still shot and zoomed it. Sonofabitch!
“That’s the same guys who showed up when Alex got shot. They were here. In our garage. It’s them! Damn it to hell. What’s going on?”
The medics applied blood pressure cuffs and oxygen masks to each agent before they loaded them into separate ambulances. In the meantime, Becker’s buddy in black set a brisk pace eastward on Constitution. Straight for the White House.
“They killed him,” Ember whimpered. “They killed Rory and my guys.”
“No,” Gabe corrected. “There was no gunfire, Ember. This is a set-up. Mark and David walked straight into an FBI dragnet. Shit. Becker knew they’d be there. He knew we’d be watching.
“We need to do something,” Shelby insisted.
Gabe (In the Company of Snipers Book 8) Page 31