[Sam Archer 08.0] Last Breath

by Tom Barber

  Shooting to kill these men wasn’t an option either; aside from the fact they were all clearly wearing body armour, he had no idea if he was putting down actual government men or real cops. The punishment for killing a Federal agent was the death penalty. This was a very dangerous game.

  Suddenly he heard a creak on the stairs. Snapping around, his Sig Sauer aimed at the door, he saw Angela appear in the doorway. She walked into the room, her white holdall with the fake plates and I-Pad inside slung across her shoulder. She looked tense.

  ‘They’re ready,’ she said, walking forward and passing him back the lighter they’d found in the electrician’s bag. She held up the second radio receiver. ‘Ledger said he’s in place. The fire’s lit.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘I’m not comfortable with this. This is a really bad idea.’

  ‘They’re expecting us to run. Not to fight back. They won’t anticipate this. Right now, surprise is all we have.’

  She didn’t reply. He looked at her.

  ‘You’d better get ready.’

  Seeing him take the pieces of his phone out of his pocket, she turned and headed quickly for the door.

  As he heard her footsteps on the stairs, Archer didn’t waste any more time.

  Reassembling his phone, he turned it on, the sudden glow from the screen lighting up his face in the gloom.

  Let’s find out who you really are.

  At the FBI’s Command Post, Peralta and Font had taken the elevator up from the tech lab to Sorenson’s office to find him on a direct video call with two detectives from the Counter-Terrorism Bureau in New York. Seeing the pair arrive, Sorenson waved them into the office angrily.

  ‘The tech wasn’t lying,’ Font muttered. ‘He looks pissed.’

  ‘Hang back here and let Boston know how it’s going,’ Peralta said, taking the lead, knowing Font’s hot temper combined with Sorenson’s current mood was a recipe for disaster. ‘I’ll take the heat for this.’

  ‘You sure?’

  He nodded, looking at her. ‘We were in charge when those VA files were missed about Ledger repairing that book store in Buena Vista. The tech said they were right there on Ledger’s profile. How the hell did we miss that?’

  She shrugged. ‘God only knows. Maybe we didn’t get the complete file? But I don’t think he’s gonna take that as an excuse.’

  That’s one hell of a mistake, Peralta thought, leaving Font to make the call and approaching Sorenson’s office. As he entered the room the senior agent pointed at a chair for him to sit in, the FBI ASAC’s suit jacket gone, his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up. On the screen attached to the wall was a man Peralta recognised from the day before, an NYPD sergeant, with a Latina woman beside him.

  ‘I just found out a pair of idiots from another field office didn’t report the VA files to my search team,’ Sorenson said. ‘Now one of your detectives is helping my fugitive. Did you know Archer was coming here?’

  They didn’t reply.

  ‘Sergeant Shepherd, Detective Marquez, did you know what your colleague was planning?’ he repeated. ‘Last time I’m asking.’

  ‘We did,’ Shepherd replied.

  ‘You both withheld information from a Federal investigation. That’s a serious offence. It could mark the end of both of your careers in law-enforcement.’

  ‘Get real,’ Marquez said. ‘Acting on a hunch where Ledger might be hiding out? We didn’t know anything for sure.’

  ‘There’s no one else in the world who wants Ledger to pay for what he did more than us,’ Shepherd added. ‘But if Archer’s running with him, there must be a pretty good reason why, Sorenson.’

  ‘Maybe he was involved too?’

  ‘Don’t even go there.’

  ‘He’s aiding and abetting. Not to mention the fact your guy didn’t bring him in when he found him. Now your detective is running around Southeast with Ledger, resisting arrest and causing property damage. I’m looking at his file, Sergeant; your man has a history of going off grid. Three years ago he went dark on a case we had people involved in back in New York. Federal agents were killed. He only got off the hook because an AD vouched for him and slapped a non-disclosure on the case.’

  ‘Were the agents guilty?’

  Sorenson hesitated. ‘I don’t know the details. But that’s not the point. Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?’

  ‘How about sending a little our way first? What happened at that intersection?’

  Sorenson paused. ‘HRT reported four projectiles were launched into an office near the Anacostia.’

  ‘Projectiles?’

  ‘Two shells found upstairs were explosives. Two downstairs released tear gas.’

  ‘I’d say the first two were meant to kill them,’ Shepherd said. ‘When they survived, the second two were meant to incapacitate them or flush them out. Who the hell fired them?’

  ‘Anyone arrested at the scene?’ Marquez added.

  ‘No-one. All we found was an abandoned grenade launcher, two empty tear gas projectiles and a load of shell casings.’

  ‘Someone’s hunting them. That’s why they’re running. Archer’s not going to trust anyone right now. There’s a lot more to this than sniper shootings, Sorenson. How can you not see that?’

  ‘That’s a lot of assumptions.’

  ‘So what does it look like to you?’

  ‘A goddamn shit-show. Archer should give himself up and hand Ledger over.’

  ‘Perhaps he would have done if someone hadn’t blasted the office he’d pulled back to. That’s not exactly going to inspire trust and confidence in D.C.’s law enforcement, is it?’

  ‘When’s the last time you spoke to him?’ Peralta asked, unable to resist getting involved.

  ‘Just before 5pm today,’ Shepherd said. ‘He was about to head for the Bridge to look for Ledger. Guess he found him.’

  ‘You need to call him and tell him to hand themselves in immediately.’

  ‘Think we haven’t been trying? We can’t get through.’

  ‘We need to know where the hell he could be,’ Sorenson told Shepherd and Marquez. ‘My people find him out there and he resists arrest, they’ll kill him, Sergeant. Those are the rules. You know that as well as I do.’

  As he spoke Sorenson and Peralta became aware of increased activity through the office door.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Peralta said, as Font suddenly appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Sam Archer’s phone just switched back on! He’s in Barry Farms!’

  TWENTY NINE

  Across town, Burnett had also picked it up and was already relaying it to the men in the field.

  ‘Stationary signal, 1412 Barry Farms!’ he relayed over the radio. ‘You guys are pretty close!’

  ‘ETA?’ Marcus asked the leader of his four operatives, watching the cell phone signal ping on the gridded map of Ward 8.

  ‘Three minutes.’

  ‘You kill the line?’ he asked Burnett.

  He nodded. ‘He can’t make any calls!’

  The four men speeding towards Barry Farms were checking the GPS, seeing the building was only eight blocks away.

  Deerman turned the corner and slammed on the brakes, the route blocked by a couple of fiercely-burning cars.

  ‘Is Archer moving?’

  ‘No. What’s wrong? You stopped.’

  ‘Road’s blocked.’

  ‘The adjacent streets are clogged up with rioters and cops. You’re gonna have to take a detour. I’ll guide you.’

  Swearing, Thorne studied the destination on the GPS then looking around, focused on a five storey building to their right, considerably taller than any other in the immediate area; he’d have a clear view.

  ‘I’ll get top-side with a rifle,’ he said, pushing open his door and jumping out, running to the trunk. Withdrawing a black holdall, he slammed the lid shut. ‘Go!’

  As Deerman spun the wheel and did a quick U-turn, Riley and Tarketti following in the second car, Thor
ne took off towards the five storey apartment block. The door was locked but a quick burst from his handgun took care of that; he pushed through the door and hit the stairs. Being in this area tonight alone and dressed as a cop wasn’t ideal, but that didn’t even cross his mind.

  The stairs were clear, all the residents either having left to avoid the trouble or laying low in their apartments. Taking them two at a time, he reached the roof and pushed open the door. He’d have preferred an opportunity to get settled and lower his heart-rate, but didn’t have time and at this kind of distance that wouldn’t be a big issue for him anyway.

  Opening the bag, he assembled the rifle as quickly as he could then lay down onto the flat roof, settling. The surface stank of old tar, the black stuff sticky from the intense heat earlier in the day. Some of it stuck to the front of his uniform but he didn’t notice as he focused on the target building.

  ‘ETA one minute,’ Deerman said over the radio.

  ‘Did the signal move?’ Thorne asked.

  ‘It’s still coming from that building,’ Burnett said. ‘FBI are right on your heels. Light it up.’

  Loading a round, Thorne looked through the scope, focusing on the dark gaps of where the windows should have been on the two floor house his team was heading for.

  Moments later, the two squad cars pulled up outside a rundown property. Deerman, Riley and Tarketti climbed out and carrying assault rifles, moved swiftly and silently into the building.

  The house was quiet.

  Separating, they rapidly cleared the lower portion of the flea trap. They then moved slowly up the stairs, controlling the only access point, checking for any wires or any sign of an ambush.

  ‘Main room, first floor.’

  The trio arrived outside the door in question, taking up their positions.

  ‘Five metres. Four. Three. He’s inside that room.’

  They aimed their sights on the wood.

  Turning the handle, Riley kicked the door back.

  The room was empty save for Archer’s phone resting on the floor.

  Tactically, Thorne had done everything right. In a situation where hostiles were inside a building where the layout of the interior was uncertain, it was always better to have weapons aimed on the exit points. SWAT and HRT used their sharpshooters to do just that and the military did the same, sniper details put in place as cover when street sweeps or door-to-door searches were conducted.

  Up on the roof, he slid his finger onto the trigger, focusing on the front exit points.

  But he didn’t have a spotter watching his back.

  THIRTY

  The way the four men had attacked Jack’s office had been a strong indicator of how they worked. Back in New York, the dead boy on the East River bikeway had been hit by a shot fired from a roof. The shots into Jack’s office had come from a roof. In their ballistics assessment, the FBI had estimated in their reports that Marcia Barrera and Tyron Scrace were both killed from rooftops.

  Their MO was to have one of their people on a roof with a rifle.

  Remembering their journey through the riot-zone neighbourhood, Archer had recalled a housing project that was significantly higher than any other in the neighbourhood, so much so the building had caught his eye. After checking with Jesse as to the quickest route to their position in Barry Farms from around Minnesota and Benning, double-checking it with a map on Angela’s I-Pad, Archer had done a reconnaissance of half of the surrounding area, Ledger doing the other, seeing that pretty much every street was choked up with gangs, rioters, protestors and police.

  Access to the neighbourhood would be hard, especially for men in Metro PD uniform driving squad cars.

  They’d get someone top-side with a rifle as insurance.

  Archer and Ledger had agreed the building would be the perfect shooting position on the target house, so Ledger had headed for the street it was situated in, intending to create some kind of obstacle, only to find the rioters had done the job for him. A couple of cars had been trashed, pushed over and then abandoned in the road. Using the electrician’s Zippo lighter, Ledger had set fire to them, effectively blocking the route at the same time as Archer had been making his way back to where they’d found the black van, and breaking into the abandoned house opposite.

  The roof of that five storey firing point was eight blocks away.

  With Ledger and Jesse in place, Archer had turned on the phone, left it on the floor and run out of the building, straight to where Angela was waiting in the van Archer had hot-wired earlier, parked at the side of the two lane highway at the back of the house. Putting her foot down, she’d raced eight blocks to the firing point, Archer guiding her, hoping the trouble was still focused on the same areas. He’d prayed he was right and that one of them would take the bait, follow their usual MO and get high with a rifle. Four on one was a big ask especially against these men.

  He’d needed to find a way to split them up.

  As Angela pulled to a stop in the next street, out of sight, Archer had jumped out of the van and she’d driven off. Less than two minutes later, he’d watched the men screech to a halt in front of the burning cars and then, with a surge of relief, seen one of them getting out, blasting his way into the tall building.

  He’d waited, giving the guy enough time to get settled before he followed.

  The man was alone.

  It was one-on-one.

  With his Sig Sauer in the aim, Archer eased himself onto the roof then stalked the prone man in Metro cop clothes, edging slowly and silently forwards.

  The sniper totally unaware he was there.

  As Deerman and Tarketti stood outside the door, backs to the room to make sure they weren’t about to be ambushed, Riley strode across the floor and picked up the phone to check it before smashing the Nokia into the wall.

  ‘Decoy,’ he said, as the other two men immediately separated and started checking the rest of the property.

  ‘Boss, any sign of him?’ Tarketti asked over the radio.

  Silence.

  ‘Boss?’

  Forcing the sniper down the last of the stairs of the apartment block, Archer kept his Sig Sauer jammed into the man’s lower back as he pushed him out of the building and into a trashed store two doors down, the man’s earpiece pulled out and crushed under Archer’s foot up on the roof. He didn’t want to hang around in the apartment block, especially as this man’s companions knew that was where he went; it would be the first place they’d look.

  With the man’s rifle slung over Archer’s shoulder, he forced the guy into the store, the cars still burning on the street twenty yards away but less fiercely now. There was no sign of the other three men, or anyone else for that matter.

  But the clock was ticking. Once they didn’t hear from their man, the other three were going to come looking.

  As planned, Ledger had been waiting well out of sight at the back of the store. As soon as Archer appeared, he moved forward carrying the roll of duct tape from the electrician’s van, grabbing a chair as he passed and pulling it over. The would-be sniper suddenly stopped dead in his tracks and started to resist, but with no time to waste Archer smashed the man over the head with his Sig, momentarily stunning him, giving them the opportunity to ram the man down in the chair and secure his wrists and ankles.

  Once the sniper was safely strapped down, Ledger taped another strip over the man’s mouth. Dark-haired with flecks of grey at his temples, olive-skinned, around 6’2 and heavily built, the captured man looked to be around mid-thirties and very pissed off, glaring up at them both.

  ‘Watch the door, Harry!’ Archer hissed to Ledger, who was already drawing his Sig.

  Then Archer pulled Angela’s cell phone from his pocket and turned it on.

  Deerman, Riley and Tarketti were leaving the building, still trying to raise Thorne over the radio when Burnett’s voice suddenly came through their earpieces.

  ‘FBI vehicles just entered the neighbourhood!’

  ‘Boss, come in?’ De
erman asked as he got in the car.

  No response.

  ‘Sons of bitches tricked us,’ Riley said as they spun a 180 and took off the way they’d come.

  Advances in technology had merged with old-school policing methods to allow officers and detectives alternative ways to ID a suspect. One of them was using portable fingerprinting devices, saving valuable time by allowing police officers to check an individual’s prints on the spot without having to haul the suspect into the station.

  Archer didn’t have a portable device to hand, but he did have the next best thing.

  Modern smartphones were basically pocket-held devices for fingerprinting. He’d had to ditch his own phone to set the trap, but had borrowed Angela’s and was already downloading a finger-printing application, which was loading frustratingly slowly, the connection poor.

  Then just as it seemed the download was complete, it failed.

  ‘Shit!’ he whispered, starting again.

  ‘C’mon, Sam!’ Ledger hissed. ‘They’ll be here any second!’

  Archer waited impatiently as the circle on the screen started to creep round again, his ears straining for any sound indicating this man’s friends were arriving.

  Finally complete, he logged himself in quickly, then approached their captive; holstering his Sig Sauer, Archer grabbed the guy’s hand taped behind the chair and prised the fingers open. He still seemed to be slightly dazed from the hard blow to the head he’d just taken, which made opening his hand easier than it might otherwise have been.

  Taking the man’s index finger Archer held it firmly against the screen of Angela’s smart-phone.