Exchange of Fire

by P. A. DePaul

  Static, then, “Have a good day.”

  Such a naive, gullible youth. Nice to know they still existed in today’s electronic world.

  Not wanting to waste any more time or risk exposure, he headed toward an alley that took him to the left of where the red dot had flashed. He spotted a good place to park and pulled in two buildings up.

  Grabbing his knapsack, he exited the Explorer, careful not to fully shut the door in case they posted a sentry. Not seeing anyone on the rooftops, he crept forward.

  Damn. He shouldn’t have worried about all the stealth that cost him valuable time. Good news: He could confirm Delta Squad was in Ridge Creek. Bad news: They had already closed the garage door and were just pulling away. Four vehicles dispersed in separate directions. He instantly dismissed the Kawasaki Ninja zooming to the west. The rider appeared too large and masculine to be Wraith.

  Deciding the black Ford F150 wouldn’t be the vehicle of choice for a woman, he discounted the truck heading south. The silver Jeep Laredo held promise, but so did the navy Chevy Camaro. He ducked into the alley and pretended to fiddle with the closest unit’s lock. The Jeep slid past, and Mars grinned.

  Chevy Camaro it is.

  ***

  “That’s right, Billy, since we’re moving the event to the farm you’ll get to ride a horse instead of playing a video game. Cool, huh?” Grady asked with false enthusiasm. To a ten-year-old, a horse did not outweigh blasting martians or controlling pissed-off fowl intent on saving their eggs, but it was the best he could do on short notice. He waited for the boy, who’d lost his mother in Iraq, to finish his sentence so he could end the last phone call of the long list. “See you tomorrow, okay?”

  Grady slammed the phone down. Goddamn it, he could just tear something apart. For the thousandth time he wished he had a punching bag installed. When he first opened the center, Kurt had put one up in his office, but after Grady bought his partner out, he took it down. The office eventually became Sandra’s . . . Wraith’s . . . sniper spy’s.

  His legs bounced underneath his desk. He could release the pent-up energy by going for a run, but he’d had enough of that exercise last night.

  How could she put him in this position? What did he ever do to the Fates for them to give him a woman he envisioned spending the rest of his life with, then have it all go sideways by forcing him to choose between his heart and the community? What kind of fucked up choice was that? Why couldn’t he fall for a normal girl whose biggest worry was whether she should skip dessert for some asinine diet?

  He glanced down at his hastily scrawled list. Next up, call the caterer he’d scheduled for Wednesday night’s employee event and see if she was also available tomorrow. He refused to allow Doreen to foot the bill to feed everyone. The woman was on a shoestring budget as it was, forced to move back home to the family farm with her son after her husband died. Besides, he’d already bought the extra food; why let it go to waste? Cecilia’s company should have the means to haul it and cook it on-site.

  The phone on his desk rang . . . again. For the hundredth time. He checked the caller ID. Not a number he recognized, so he let it go to voice mail. When he’d first posted the signs on all the doors, he felt honor-bound to answer every call, but it was mostly parents or teenagers checking to make sure what they read was right. A few became irate and he had no good way to placate them. He’d go out of business if he gave free vouchers to everyone, so he stopped answering the calls unless it was an employee.

  His cell phone chirped. He snatched the device off the corner of his desk and glanced at the screen. Same unrecognizable number, but the first two words of the text message told him all he needed to know. It’s Cappy.

  Grady thumbed the message open and read the rest.

  I’m calling you from this number in twenty seconds.

  Exactly twenty seconds later his cell phone rang. He drew in a calming breath and answered. “If this is about me not answering Wraith’s call earlier, I’m hanging up.”

  “It’s not,” Cappy’s baritone rumbled. “Yet Sandra did leave you an important message. You should’ve listened to it.”

  Grady snorted. “Sue me for not wanting to hear an empty apology on my voice mail. I’ve got more important things to take care of.”

  “One, it wouldn’t be empty, but more significantly, two, it’s about the maintenance crew.”

  Grady sat up.

  “Sandra hired Entertainment Industries. They’ll be there by one o’clock.”

  “Holy shit. How did she manage to score same-day service with them? They’ve been booked for months covering other centers like mine nationally.” Grady paused. “What’s that bill going to cost me?”

  “Nothing. She’s paying for the whole thing.”

  The plastic squeaked in his grip when his blood pressure spiked. “You can tell her my forgiveness can’t be bought and I won’t accept charity.”

  “That’s between you two. I’m not a damn messenger,” Cappy retorted. “It’s not charity. You asked for our help in making the ‘charade plausible.’ This is our way of doing it. You’ve just been awarded carte blanche for them to inspect, repair, replace, etc., every piece of equipment you own. Hell, have them hang curtains too, if you want. I don’t give a rat’s ass.”

  Grady’s jaw dropped and a civil war sprouted in his brain. Part of him seriously salivated at having the top company in his line of business at his disposal for anything he wanted, while the other part felt like a whore being given a pretty trinket so he’d stop pouting.

  “From my understanding, Sandra’s already supplied them with a list to get started, but I’d advise you to take advantage of this and let your imagination run wild. In my opinion, I wouldn’t hold back. They’re sending an army who’ll stay on-site until every last job is done and you send them home.”

  Chapter 25

  Victor paced the length of the downstairs study. Waiting for others to give him updates was the worst part of being out of the game. Had Mars found Wraith yet? Did the man have any leads if he hadn’t?

  Victor’s landline rang. He waited for the click before barking, “Victor.”

  “I understand we have a situation,” a smooth, cultured voice said. “Your sudden absence does not inspire confidence that you have a handle on it either.”

  Alan fucking Bostridge. Just what he needed. When he found out who the hell told the man about Wraith, that employee was going to be begging for a quick death.

  Victor tempered his anger and replied as if he had all the time in the world to listen to the man’s bullshit. “I’m sure SweetBriar Group could use your oversight as a Board member on the upcoming litigation. Those factories along the Mississippi aren’t backing down. They’ve hired lobbyists to petition the state government to relax the pollution laws.”

  “Correct,” Alan stated coldly. “SweetBriar Group could use my oversight. Why do you think I’m on the phone? As CEO of the leading environmentalist company, you’re supposed to be out making as much noise as possible. Lining up interviews with reporters and blustering about these evil factories.”

  “I know my part,” Victor snapped, shoving a pile of papers to the side.

  “Do you? Disappearing after you discover an operative, who you swore to the Board had died months ago, is still alive does not show us you have this under control.”

  “I believe I’ve found her location. I have someone there now looking into the lead.”

  Long pause.

  A short fantasy of him ordering one of his loyal operatives to visit the pompous asshole made Victor feel a little better.

  “Tell me, have there been any more operative deaths?”

  Victor gnashed his teeth and clenched the phone. “Yes. One.”

  “I’m assuming since you’re not forthcoming with the details, the cause was not natural,” Alan said flatly.

  “It wasn’t natural.”

  Another pause, then, “I’m starting to believe that Sam and Thane may have been right. Changin
g our structure and designation to become a private military company may be the smart move for us. SBG has had a very high mortality rate since you took over. If this keeps up, not only will we lose our government contracts, but one or all of us could be facing incarceration when this blows up in our faces.”

  The deep gnawing in Victor’s gut grew. Before he could open his mouth, Alan continued with, “You need to resolve this situation as quickly and quietly as you can. In the meantime, get your face in front of the cameras, if only to establish an alibi should you need one later.”

  ***

  Sandra dropped the strap of her purse diagonally over her shoulder and gathered her half of the numerous shopping bags filled with the basic supplies. As they trekked through the supercenter toward the exit, she tried to rack her brain for a topic that didn’t involve herself, Grady, or the bombshells at the storage locker. She needed a break from heavy topics for at least five full minutes.

  The first thing that popped into her exhausted brain was Granger. Good enough. “I guess Granger came on board right after I left. Was he always a douche bag?”

  “Worse.” Magician grimaced. “Asshole refused to believe I didn’t think he was God’s gift to the world and wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  Sandra grinned. “What did you do to persuade him?”

  “Grabbed his package and told him he was hung like a light switch, then shoved my gun under his chin.”

  “And?”

  “Prick just grinned and actually got hard in my palm.”

  “Ew!”

  “I know! So I did the only respectable thing. I knocked him out with the butt of my gun and left his ass lying on the ground in front of headquarters.” She tilted her head to the side. “Gee, he never bothered me again.”

  “Nice.” Sandra stepped through the automatic door and squinted into the bright sun. Her eyes were still watery from the overabundance of tears and blurry from too many hours without sleep. “Should’ve grabbed my sunglasses before my hands were full.”

  Magician, obviously more alert and thinking better, banged a stash of bags against her body while flicking down the pair perched on her head. “Luckily we’re straight out at the top of the lot,” she replied over the heavy crinkling plastic of her own satchels.

  “Tell me again why we refused to haul these to the car in the cart?” Sandra’s arms strained against the bulk.

  Magician laughed. “Exercise is good for you. Free weight training. Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft these few months away.”

  “Hell, yeah. I take my luxuries seriously, woman.”

  “So I’m noticing. Come on, only a bit more.” She peered Sandra’s way, but with the sunglasses, Sandra wasn’t sure if it was to look at her or as part of the surveillance they were both ingrained with doing. “You sure you don’t want me to drive? I think I’m capable of following the GPS route if you want to catch a few z’s.”

  “Nah. It’s not that far. It’s keeping me awake at the moment. I know the second I crash, I’m going to be out for longer than the short drive.”

  The landscape was beautiful, with the full, green trees covering the mountains ringing the area. The supercenter sat in a wide section on one of the lower ridges, affording them the ability to catch glimpses of a small part of town spread out throughout the lower levels while being humbled by the peaks.

  A thick white cloud rolled by, freeing her from studying the asphalt on their journey to the car. Not bad; they only had a few more spots to go before they made it to the Camaro—this year’s model at that. Not exactly the most incognito car, but Magician had laughed and told her it was the only car the rental agency had left that didn’t look like it had been driven past its usefulness. In this part of the state, Sandra could believe it. She was actually more surprised they had a car on the lot instead of only supplying all types of four-wheel-drive trucks.

  “How abou—”

  An earsplitting crack echoed, and the glass from the back windshield on the van next to her tinkled to the ground. She instinctively ducked just as a second hole shot through the glass, close to the first.

  “Shots!” Magician yelled, stating the obvious for no one’s benefit.

  Screams erupted and feet slammed over asphalt as the good folks of Ridge Creek scrambled to get away.

  “Come on,” Sandra hollered, ducking between the van and the tiniest car known to mankind. She peered over the practically nonexistent hood of the sad excuse for a car but couldn’t see anything thanks to the goddamn sun. She yanked the keys out of her purse and crab-walked around the front, praying this thing had an engine block worthy enough to stop a bullet. Magician followed on her heels.

  “I’m going to unlock the door and start the engine with the remote.” She held up the key chain with her thumb over the start button. “I’ll have to jump in first; you climb in after me.”

  Glass exploded as another bullet ripped through Sad Excuse’s back window. More terror-filled screams rent the air, along with kids wailing.

  “Way ahead of you.” Without Sandra realizing it, Magician had already yanked the shopping bags off Sandra’s arms and maneuvered to the edge of Sad Excuse.

  “Sorry.” It had been too long since she had worked with another operative. She forgot that Magician would already know what to do.

  They only had one more car to go before they reached the Camaro. Thank God her training had kicked in when she’d parked and she was already facing out. The door wouldn’t stop a bullet, but it sure as hell would slow it down and provide some cover as she got them away from here.

  The throaty growl of the Camaro’s engine rumbled to life the second she pressed the button.

  Magician darted across the open space between Sad Excuse and the sedan parked next to them. Two shots peppered the ground, nailing Sandra with the shards of blacktop that kicked up in their wake.

  Damn, they stung. She dove after Magician and cringed at the squeal of the bullet tracing along the sedan’s body, just barely missing her leg.

  Distant sirens now added to the sounds of chaos.

  “We gotta go,” Sandra yelled, the adrenaline coursing through her veins making her hands clumsy and her senses sharpen. Good thing she had trained over and over on how to compensate for the whacked-out effects.

  She hauled ass for the car and flung the door open, not pausing a second as she dove inside. The sound of gunshots pinged into the body, and she heard the unmistakable explosions of her headlights bursting. Her ribs slammed into the gear shift, but she ignored the flaring pain as she climbed over it as quickly as she could. Magician practically sat on Sandra’s legs as she jumped into the car, flinging the bags into the back.

  Staying as low as possible, she jammed the car into drive and sped out of the parking spot.

  Two shots in succession tore through the windshield, burrowed through the driver’s seat, and disappeared somewhere into the back. The ominous holes were right where her head would normally be. She wheeled the car in the opposite direction and gunned the V6 engine. Her tires laid a patch of tread on the asphalt before they gripped the road and the engine thundered forward.

  Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

  More goddamn bullets ruptured the car, two into the back windshield and one into the trunk area. Thankfully missing their seats.

  She aimed for the closest exit, not heeding the row of cars sitting at the red light. She veered into the incoming lane, bypassing the line and turning left onto the four-lane highway.

  “Cappy,” Magician yelled into the phone. “Wraith and I were just ambushed at the mall. We took sniper fire while heading to the car.”

  “Where are you now?” he asked through the tinny speaker.

  “Headed east on Ridge Pike,” Sandra shouted. “I only see a wall of flashing lights in my rearview mirror.”

  “Shit. Hang on, let me conference the team in. I’m at Grady’s center pulling the first watch.”

  A green Explorer roared up next to her side.

  “Fuck,�
�� Sandra exclaimed, gripping the wheel.

  “Magician, you got your seat belt on?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “We’ve got company.” She sped forward but couldn’t get completely clear because of the traffic. The SUV increased his speed but stayed just at the Camaro’s rear quarter panel. “He’s trying to PIT me.”

  “You can’t let him push you off the road,” Cappy ordered, as if she didn’t already know that. If the Explorer hit her at just the right angle, he’d make her lose control and send her flying off the road.

  The SUV made his move and swerved into her lane. She gunned the engine, but wasn’t fast enough to avoid the Explorer smacking her rear fender. Thank God he hadn’t hit the sweet spot. She jerked the wheel to the left and slammed into him. It was like hitting a brick wall. Metal crunched and echoed as she pressed the gas pedal and took off, scraping the Camaro along the SUV’s side. She headed for the narrow shoulder of the road and wasn’t surprised to find the Explorer on her tail.

  “What’s going on?” Romeo’s voice filled the speaker just as Talon barked, “Tell me where you are.”

  Car horns permeated the air as she whizzed past the slow-moving traffic on the thin piece of blacktop. She flicked a glance in the rearview and saw his grill inches from her bumper. The car jerked forward when he slammed into her from behind.

  “Shit.” Sandra clenched the wheel harder to keep her tires on the road.

  “Assassination attempt on Wraith and Magician,” Cappy answered. “Sniper first, now vehicular.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Romeo snarled. “In broad daylight? With civilians around?”

  Trees raced by on her right and she was quickly running out of space. A line of cars blocked her path waiting to turn in the right-hand lane.

  The SUV hit her again.

  She jerked the wheel and swerved back onto the highway, narrowly avoiding a Hyundai. Tires squealed as the person she cut off got out of her way. The SUV roared up behind her again.

  “Romeo,” Cappy said, “take your ID and Magician’s if she doesn’t have it and find them.”