by Rick Murcer
“Good. I think you’re right about that. The tinted glass gives them away some.”
He opened his door and exited the SUV as Sophie walked around to his left.
They began to make their way to the sidewalk. “There’s one more thing here.”
“Really? What did I miss?”
“The entrance doesn’t appear to be guarded. Even from the inside. Unless these people think the security system is enough.”
She shrugged. “Could be. Or your paranoia is working overtime again.”
He sighed. She was probably right.
Sophie looped her arm through Manny’s as he pulled open the gate and continued up the brick walk.
“Don’t look now, but I think we’re being followed,” she said.
“We are. I heard the car doors shut when we got through the gate.”
“They’re our people, right?”
“I’d say so. But I’d get your hand next to your piece, just in case.”
“Agents. Please stop where you are, hands where we can see them.”
He and Sophie turned in unison.
In front of them, weapons at their sides, stood two people—special agents, Manny assumed. The one on the left was a short, burly man, his bald head glistening with perspiration. At his side was a much taller, ordinary-looking, dark-haired woman with black-framed glasses. It was hard for Manny not to think of assorted Mutt-and-Jeff analogies. He kept the smile to himself.
Sophie did not.
“Hello, Special Agents Lee and Williams. And yes, we get that look all the time,” said the woman.
“Yeah, us too,” said Sophie.
Both agents returned her grin.
“I’m Agent Grimes, and this is Agent Buford. We’ll take you back to where Agent Downs is set up. He’s expecting you. First we’ll need your weapons and to see your IDs, of course, before you enter the house. You’ll get them back when you pass the security scan.”
Manny looked at Sophie and nodded. He pulled his Glock from his holster, still trying to shake the ringing in his brain. This kind of security was new to him, no doubt, yet . . .
“Sweet. An eye scan, I hope,” said Sophie. “I always wanted to do that.”
“Thank you. I assume Agent Simmons is with Agent Downs,” said Manny, pretending that he was having trouble pulling his gun from his holster. Sophie had already handed hers to the woman.
There was a slight hesitation before Buford answered, “Yes. She arrived about thirty minutes ago,” he said.
Manny stopped in his tracks. “How long?”
The two agents looked at each other in an almost orchestrated dance, both holding their weapons.
“I do apologize for this,” said the woman. “Orders are orders. You both have to die.”
CHAPTER-20
Chloe hit the red button on her phone and then stuffed it into her vest pocket.
Her mum sounded great, and Haley Rose’s report of how Ian, Jen, and even Sampson were doing was music to her ears. She’d almost forgotten how being in the field, away from her home, could affect the way she approached her job. Not worrying about her family, at least quite as much, helped her to relax and concentrate, unless of course, she threw in worrying about Manny. That was another conundrum altogether.
The fact that they were in separate units made sense, especially in this situation . . . but hadn’t they worked together in dangerous situations before? And hadn’t they been successful? Yet, one never knew.
Leaning over the oak table of the hotel’s conference room, she exhaled and reached for the dark-blue, sealed file, branded with the TOP SECRET ACTU stamp. She pulled it closer. Readying to open the file without Manny and Sophie being in the room drove the point home even further that Josh had made two teams from one.
She still wasn’t sure his decision was wise, but she reminded herself that the logic was sound.
She tapped her finger on the file, thinking how the terrorist game had changed over the years. How sophisticated technology had allowed those with a despicable intention to pursue their warped sense of purpose. But it worked both ways. The FBI’s jet bore witness to that.
Yet, there wasn’t anything like thinking out loud and discussing possibilities within the team. The full team. She still liked strength in numbers to combat twisted thinking, but she’d known Josh a long time and trusted him. He was a consummate leader, always looking out for his people, even to a fault. The leader of the ACTU knew what he was doing, even if it didn’t please everyone, including her and Manny.
But she also trusted her instincts as a profiler and her experience in the fight against terrorism. This Irish lass had seen a thing or two herself.
“We can’t open those yet.”
She glanced at Barb, sitting to her left, and offered a small grin. “Yeah, I know. We’re supposed to wait for Josh and Braxton to get back. But I was never good at following orders, don’t ya know.”
Barb laughed out loud.
Chloe decided it was a good laugh. Genuine, like Barb’s love for Alex. The two of them, especially Alex, had been through some mind-bending situations over the last few months, no question. She wondered how many men could handle the fact that the woman they’d been married to for over a decade was a covert agent for the CIA, the FBI, and the DEA.
Not many. It spoke to the quality of Alex’s heart and Barb’s persistent love for him. And she suspected, somewhere deep, Alex had always known something was different about her, and not just those Hollywood looks.
“They’ll be here shortly. But I’m as curious as you,” said Barb.
Shifting in her leather chair, Chloe faced Barb. “Did you have any idea that the team would be split?”
Barb nodded. “Let’s say I’ve seen it before. You understand the importance in covering as much intel as possible regarding international threats to national security. But this domestic arena is a different animal.”
“So I’ve gathered. I’ve seen some impressive databases in my time, but nothing like the toys Alex and I were playing with while you were at the warehouse. Plus, the response time for those searches is uncanny.”
“It’s only the beginning. While Manny, Alex, Sophie, and Belle are diving into that, we’ve got another whole line of, how should I say it, information gathering. Not related to what Manny and his crew are doing,” said Barb.
Manny.
Suddenly, inexplicably, she missed her husband as an image of his face came to mind, bringing into focus the total package that had saved her life from the loneliness that had threatened to stalk her for the rest of her days.
The curve of his jaw, his hair, those blue eyes, his strong hands. The warmth of his hard body while they made love. There was nothing like being with him. He loved just like he did his job. When they were finished, it was just them, lying close and making small talk. No serial killers. No terrorists. No Guardian of the Universe persona. Only them.
“Chloe?”
Barb’s question brought her back. “Sorry, I was thinking of something else.”
“Career choices?” said Barb, laughing.
“You could say that. Anyway, what are you referring to? What form of information gathering?”
Barb uncrossed her legs and leaned closer. “Paid informants. High-priced, high-profile international criminals and terrorists on every INTERPOL, FBI, CIA, DEA, CTD, and MI6 priority list.”
Chloe’s anger flared. “What the hell would we do that for? I worked hunting these assholes down, don’t ya know. One of them shot me. These people can’t be trusted. They only have their own agenda, their own purpose. They’re radicals who will bend sideways, or bend us over, to get what they want.”
“We know what we’re―”
The door opened. Braxton entered, followed by Josh. Chloe stood up and moved around the table, grabbing her boss by the tie.
“What in God’s name is wrong with ya? Are ya crazy?”
“Whoa,” said Josh, pulling his tie from her hand, almost.
&n
bsp; She pulled him closer.
“Settle down, Chloe. I always wear red ties with blue suits.”
“Not funny, asshole. You know what I mean.”
He glanced at Barb. “I take it you told her what we’re doing here.”
She saluted, her blond hair shimmering as she did. “As instructed, sir.”
There was no humor on her face.
“Do as da mon says, Chloe. Chill out. We can explain dis ting, okay?” said Braxton, his deep voice calm, almost reassuring.
Glancing at each of them in turn, she then pulled Josh close enough to smell his breath. “You have five minutes, and it better be good, or I’m out of here.”
“I won’t need that long,” he said quietly.
“I hope not. You may have already painted a big red target on our backs, all of us.”
CHAPTER-21
Manny never thought twice. He suspected Sophie wouldn’t either. She’d seen his reaction to the lie about Belle Simmons’s arrival. There was no time to hesitate.
If today was the day they would die, then they’d do it on their terms.
Moving quickly, hoping to take the two would-be assassins off guard, he dove at Buford, reaching for his gun hand. He closed his eyes, waiting to hear the gun’s explosion and feel the immediate pain of a searing bullet entering his flesh.
It didn’t happen.
For a reason he’d probably never know, the gun didn’t discharge. Instead, Buford went down in a heap, his breath exiting his lungs with a loud, painful grunt as the gun skittered across the cement sidewalk and rattled against the wrought-iron fence.
A muffled shot sounded to his right followed by a shrill scream, but Manny had no time to see what was happening. The shorter, very powerful Buford had recovered. He had somehow managed to climb on top of Manny and then locked his vise-like grip around Manny’s throat, instantly blocking any air trying to get into his lungs.
Manny’s eyes watered almost to the point of blindness. Life-giving air was suddenly scarce. He tore desperately at the man’s hands, trying to loosen Buford’s hold, but he may as well have been trying to crack steel with a noodle. He needed to do something else, and quickly.
Shifting his body under the man’s considerable weight, he swung a solid left hand to the side of his attacker’s jaw, getting his attention, but only for a moment.
Buford grunted, smiled one of those crazy bastard smiles, and pressed harder on Manny’s windpipe. Manny’s eyes were now blurred, and what air he had managed to keep all but disappeared. The previously bright world was now spinning in a kaleidoscope of colors, sounds, and superficial hazes that, oddly enough in this circumstance, proved to remind him that nothing was guaranteed. Not even one’s next breath.
Enough, Williams. Get this done, or you and Louise will be having dinner tonight.
With all of his strength, he bent out his knee and brought it hard against Buford’s spine. The accompanying thud led to an immediate cry of pain, but the death grip remained intact around his throat. Raising his hands to Buford’s face, he then drove his thumbs deep into the shorter man’s eyes. Even in his less-than-cognitive state, the scream was startling.
Buford released his grip and reached for Manny’s hands. It was all the opening Manny needed. He drove his hips up and shoved him over to the side of the cement walk. The quick turn of events, and a deep draw of air, sent Manny into advantage mode. He was on Buford in a flash.
As he drew back his fist, there was a micro-moment of déjà vu as he recalled the petty thief who had pulled a knife on Ian and Chloe. He had wondered if he would kill that man then. There was no such question here, only the will to live.
Somehow, even in this moment, he drew some comfort in that.
Reaching back even farther, he sent his right hand crashing into Buford’s square jaw, sending him to Sand Land, blood dripping from the man’s eyes and mouth.
Checking to make sure Buford was out, he then fell to his side, gasping for air. After catching a couple more breaths, and realizing just how sweet that act could be, his mind switched to where he was and . . . Sophie.
Spinning to his right, he began to scramble on all fours in her direction, only to stop as quickly as he started. He should have known better.
His partner sat on top of the tall blonde’s midsection, her hands folded over her knees. Her gaze was intense, but that old impish expression that he loved so much was clearly on display.
“What the hell took you so long, Williams? Good to see you finally got it done. I thought I was going to have to step in, but you made me proud. Not to mention, it might have been a little embarrassing to tell the group, especially your wife, I had to save your ass, ya know?”
“So you’ve been watching him try to strangle the life out of me?”
“Not really watching, per se. Just observing how you would get out of his death grip and kick his ass. You tell me to have a little faith, so I had faith you’d come out on top.”
“Faith, huh?
“Yep. Faith.”
“We’ll be talking about that one later.” He nodded toward the woman she was sitting on. “What did you do to her?”
Sophie stood and wiped at her make-believe mustache. “Let’s just say, partner, that she’ll be a-sleepin’ for a right bit of time, y’all.”
“You’re not shot?”
“No, she missed when I kicked her. The scream you heard was when I twisted her boob. After that, I knocked her out. Really simple.”
“Good for you.”
The stocky man began to stir, moaning as he reached for his eyes.
She cringed. “Not as bad as you did to his eyes though. That looked like it hurt.”
Manny shrugged. “It was him or me.”
Then, stepping back to Buford, Manny hit him with another hard right, knocking him out again.
“We have to cuff these two and find Alex,” he said, shaking his hand.
Sophie’s eyes grew wide. “Shit. Alex. I forgot about him.”
Jumping up, she pulled the woman’s hands behind her and cuffed them together.
Manny pulled his cuffs from his back pocket and repeated the act on the man lying near him. As he stood, a deep voice boomed through the PA system from the outside of the building. “Put your hands over your head and lie face down.”
“What?” said Sophie.
“I think we have a bigger problem,” said Manny.
“Do it now,” resonated through the speakers.
A moment later, the front door burst open, and no less than ten of the FBI’s finest sprinted into the well-manicured yard, weapons readied.
The leader of the group pointed at Sophie and him.
“You’ve got five seconds to hit the ground, or you’ll leave in body bags.”
CHAPTER-22
“Thomas! You best be gettin’ out of dat water, or Momma is gonna wup yo ass when she gets home.”
Benjamin Thibeaux shook his head and headed to where his younger, ten-year-old brother was splashing along the lake’s northern shoreline.
It was always tough being the big brother. Especially when Momma told him to take care of his siblings while she went shopping or to do an extra job, even if he hadn’t wanted to. That choice wasn’t offered to sixteen-year-olds in this family. In fact, not in his friends’ families either. That was just how it was in his neck of the woods.
He guessed he should be lucky he had only Thomas today and not his two little sisters as well. He’d be pulling his hair and saying things his Momma would wash his mouth out with soap for saying. Right after one of them turned tattletale.
He reached the tiny ridge of green grass that sloped to the stony beach, where Thomas continued to ignore him.
“I told you, boy, get yo ass out of da water. You damn deaf or what?”
“I heard ya, Ben. But I be hot and dis water is cool. ’Sides, I ain’t gettin’ nothin’ wet but my skin.”
Benjamin kept moving in Thomas’s direction. The boy wasn’t real bright yet,
but he made a good point about the hot afternoon sun.
“I suppose you’re right about dat hot thing. In fact, I think I’ll join ya. But then after dat, we got to get ourselves home before Momma does.”
“Whooee. Now yo talkin’.”
Benjamin couldn’t help laughing out loud. Thomas was still his brother, and brothers, no matter what else was going on in this crazy world, should be brothers, especially when it came to playing in cool water on hot days.
A moment later, Benjamin was stripped down to his walking shorts and wading into the inviting, cool waters of the lake. The hard stones under his calloused feet didn’t bother him, not after all of those years going barefoot.
“Did ya look for gators? I sure don’t want to wrestle one to get your butt out his mouth,” said Benjamin, scanning the area.
“Nah, we don’t see many on dis side anyway. Well, except maybe for the da one Billy Richards says he saw last week. He’s a bull-shitter though. He claims he saw ’bout a fourteen-footer bumping along da shore over in dat direction,” said Thomas, pointing to the west.
Benjamin took one more cautious glance in that direction. After seeing nothing that would put fear in a Louisiana lake boy, he proceeded to splash his little brother with a well-aimed blast of lake water.
Thomas screamed with laughter, then returned the favor. Soon both boys were lost in the moment, water flying and laughter drifting through the sticky air.
Ten minutes later, Benjamin’s internal clock sounded, and he knew they’d better get out of the water and get home. They had some time, but he just knew Momma was on the way.
“Okay, Thomas, this is da last throw, then we gots to get home, so climb on up my thigh and we’ll do a big toss.”
“I’m up for dat, don’t ya―”
Benjamin glanced up at Thomas when he didn’t finish his sentence. His heart almost stopped when he saw the look of pure terror on his brother’s young face.
He whirled in the direction that Thomas was staring. Any doubt about his brother overreacting to anything or pulling his leg was dispelled in the time it took to blink.