[Sam Archer 08.0] Last Breath

by Tom Barber

  ‘But why make such a big deal of it? Why hit Marcia in Portland, Tyron in Boston and then Nate in New York with long distance shots? They must have known that would get Federal attention. Why not drop them quietly?’

  ‘Guess I screwed up their plans when I didn’t die at my apartment from that overdose,’ Ledger said. ‘Should have been all wrapped up.’

  ‘Something is off here,’ Archer persisted. ‘They’ve been ripping up Southeast all night trying to kill us. And the weaponry they’ve been using is cutting edge. They just burned a six figure drone trying to finish us off. Why are we so important to them? Why don’t they just cut their losses and get the hell out?’

  Archer looked at the television, the rioting and looting showing no sign of abating, people still ripping up the streets.

  ‘What aren’t we seeing?’ he said.

  ‘We just figured it out,’ Angela insisted.

  ‘It’s not as straightforward as that. You told us how NSA operates, how slick they are and how discreet. Three rifle hits across the East Coast? That’s international news. They’d know that. And that’s before all the shit that’s gone down tonight. Shootouts, tear gas, drone attacks, not to mention taking out the high school guard, Jeff Cummings. That action alone instantly compromised Harry’s credibility as a suspect. It’d already been reported he was locked down across town.’

  ‘Maybe they’re getting sloppy?’ Angela suggested.

  ‘Men like this don’t get sloppy. What’s their end game here? How do they think they can possibly get away with this? End of the day, they still work for the NSA and have left a trail a kid could follow.’

  No one replied. Ledger leaned forward, studying Veach’s FI bio.

  ‘What are you looking for?’ Angela asked.

  ‘Veach’s address.’

  ‘You just gonna walk into Fort Meade and confront him?’

  ‘No. I’m going to call the NYPD and get someone to track down his car.’

  ‘You can’t do that,’ Jesse said. ‘You said these NSA men can track us any time we make a call.’

  Ledger looked at Archer, who nodded.

  ‘You’re right. But we’re not the ones who are going to be talking.’

  At the NYPD’s Counter-Terrorism Bureau, the analyst team were now all fully abreast of the situation and the atmosphere was muted, all of them knowing one of their own was out there being hunted with Harry Ledger. Sitting at her terminal, Rach watched the large screen on the wall ahead, tuned to CNN with rolling updates of the ongoing manhunt.

  Then her cell rang. Picking it up, she looked at the phone but didn’t recognise the number.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘I’m a kid who went to the school in D.C where there was that shooting. I’m talking for someone you know. He’s a friend. We’re on speakerphone, but he can’t speak for himself right now. He says you’ll figure out why.’

  She didn’t move for a moment. Then rising slowly from her desk, she moved towards the women’s rest-room, pushing open the door and closing it behind her, making sure she was alone before she spoke.

  ‘Where are you?’ she said.

  Pause, the sound of low voices in the background.

  ‘I need you to do something for me. I need it fast.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Track someone down in D.C.’

  ‘Our camera systems are only set up here in New York.’

  ‘Use his phone.’

  ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Marcus Veach. He works at NSA.’

  ‘What?’

  Muffled whispering.

  ‘No time to explain. Please, hurry. Call me back on this number.’

  The call ended. Looking at the phone, she stood completely still for a few moments then moved out of the restroom, returning to her desk.

  Typing in the man’s name through Fingerprint Database, she saw his home address was in Georgetown. She called the number listed.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hello there. I’m calling from the NYPD in regards to a message your husband left with our Department. Is he there to talk to briefly?’

  ‘He’s out at the moment, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Do you have a cell phone number I can contact him on?’

  Inside the office building in D.C., Archer and co waited.

  ‘What if they’re already onto us?’ Jesse said.

  No-one replied.

  Then the phone rang. Archer picked up and listened, scribbling something on a piece of paper before passing the phone to Jesse, mouthing thanks. Jesse thanked Rach and hung up.

  ‘He’s in an office building in Dupont Circle,’ Archer said, passing the note to Ledger.

  ‘Going anywhere outside right now is dangerous,’ Angela pointed out.

  ‘They killed Marcia. They shot an innocent charity worker and a fourteen year old boy. Then they tried to not just blame it on me but kill me too. I want this son of a bitch to pay for what he’s done.’

  ‘Then I’m coming with you,’ she said. ‘You can’t go alone. You need someone to drive while you stay out of sight. I’ll do it. You navigate.’

  ‘I’m staying here,’ Archer said, looking at Jesse. ‘These men might be coming. I’m not leaving Sarah or Jesse unprotected.’

  He looked at Ledger.

  ‘If you find him, don’t kill him. This is all conjecture so far, remember. You need a confession out of him if you’re going to come out of this.’

  Ledger nodded, rising and pulling his pistol.

  ‘Sure you want to go out there?’ Archer asked him.

  ‘Oh, I’m sure,’ he said, pushing the top-slide against his jeans and then looking at Angela. ‘Let’s go give him a surprise.’

  On the street in Southeast, the Barry Farms gang had learned from the news that the Anacostia crew had been killed in the Metro rail and were shouting and laughing, cussing them out as they continued to stalk the streets with increased confidence, still searching for Ledger and the group with him.

  Their leader took a call, listening for a moment, then hung up, shouting out to his crew.

  ‘Yo, we got a location!’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Office building off Washington Circle.’

  ‘Forget this shit, man,’ one of the guys said. ‘Let’s go cop hunting.’

  ‘No way. He wants us there so bad, he’s doubling the payday. A full milli for the group dead.’

  That got their attention, any thoughts of cop hunting immediately forgotten.

  ‘We can’t get these over the bridge,’ one of his guys said, holding up his pistol. ‘When they see these, Feds will be all over us.’

  ‘Man said the bridge is clear right now,’ he replied. ‘We’re out of here.’

  FORTY THREE

  In the open conference room adjacent to the office she’d been using, Sarah had overheard the conversation between Archer and the group he’d brought with him.

  Staying where she was near the open door, she watched the woman and Harry Ledger leave.

  She saw Sam glance her way, but she didn’t hold eye contact.

  Turning, she wheeled herself further into the room, the blinds on the windows down, and looked at the clock on the wall. It was almost 8:45pm, the first half of the girls’ play almost over. Thank goodness Jack was there; at least she hoped he was. Then she glanced down at the cell phone resting on her lap, the Metro ERT team just the press of a button away. Sam had asked her not to call them, despite the desperate trouble he was in and for some reason she was still trying to figure out, she hadn’t yet.

  Tonight was the first time she’d seen him since a year or so after the accident and she was astonished by how much he’d matured, both physically and in his manner. Sam had always been tough; as a kid, he was constantly getting into trouble and taking knocks, but even then nothing seemed to faze him. His striking looks and the fact he’d always looked younger than he really was had frequently led people to mistake him for a soft touch, totally underestimating his inna
te toughness and strength of character.

  However, the person here tonight was a much harder version of the brother she last saw. She realised he was only twenty nine, but ironically considering the usual perception of him, he seemed older, more experienced.

  She glanced through the open door, seeing him talking quietly with the teenage boy.

  There were brief glimpses of the brother she remembered, hints of that kindness and easy way with people, but the longer she looked at him, the more it seemed as if she was looking at a stranger, someone she hardly recognised.

  She’d thought she was the only one who’d changed that night of the accident.

  She realised she was wrong.

  She looked down at her legs in the chair, remembering the last time she’d used them, standing at the top of the stairs as she lost her temper and went off on her brother, crowding him and shouting, eventually provoking him to such a point he pushed her back to give himself some space but accidentally tipping her down the stairs. She remembered waking up in hospital and trying to move her legs. There’d been no response, as if a phone call between her brain and spine had been disconnected. It had been a horrifying sensation.

  And then a doctor had come in and broke it to her as gently he could that she was paralysed from the waist down.

  Recovery from the ordeal had been extremely hard. Though she’d struggled with anger at first, refusing to see Sam when he tried to visit her in hospital, the hot rage had eventually cooled and she’d forgiven him for what had clearly been an accident, particularly after seeing how devastated he was. She knew she’d pushed him over the edge that night and all he’d done was push back once. He couldn’t have known she’d lose her footing. Anyway, she’d moved on; she’d had no other choice.

  Her rehab had taken a full year, but she’d found living in the same city as before but without the use of her legs too hard and when their father suddenly walked out on the family, she’d had enough. She’d left for the US, having been accepted at Yale, met Jack and after marriage and having Ally and Maia, settled here in D.C.

  She’d had a fresh start, setting up a life far away from Sam, London and the house which held too many bad memories. She hadn’t even invited Sam to her wedding and didn’t attend their father’s funeral, needing to move on from any memories of her old life. She’d only found out Sam had joined the police through Jack, who unknown to her had looked him up when he was in London on a visit.

  Sam Archer the cop.

  After the initial surprise, she realised it made complete sense.

  She picked up a television remote on the table behind her, pointing it towards the plasma screen across the room, switching on the TV but immediately muting it, the news footage showing the continuing search for the man who’d just left this office.

  What the hell am I doing? she thought, seeing the extent of the manhunt.

  Why haven’t I made that call?

  When Sam rang last night asking if he could come visit for Maia’s birthday, she’d been both excited and nervous about seeing him again after so many years. However, it was now very clear she hadn’t been the real reason he’d wanted to come and she felt that familiar white-hot anger return, as well as hurt; just as she’d been ready to trust him again, he’d dropped her entire family into all this. The Metro officers who’d shown up earlier had explained that her brother was on the run with the most wanted man in the nation, the leading suspect in the three sniper homicides that had dominated the news for the past three days. She’d been too stunned to say anything in reply, just staring at them in shocked disbelief. Even though they had Wards 7 and 8 locked down, they told her they’d figured Sam might turn up here and she was to let them know the moment he did.

  Sam and the kid looked like hell, cut and bruised, dust and God knows what else on their t-shirts and jeans. Yet Sam was going through all that to defend his friend, not taking the easy option and abandoning him to his fate, adamant according to the brief conversation they’d just had that Ledger had been set up. She was furious with herself for losing her temper and what she’d said to him. She’d seen the hurt on his face as she said it; she’d accused him of being indifferent to inflicting pain, yet she was the one who’d clearly hurt him by saying so. She felt ashamed.

  And with every second that passed when she didn’t make that call, she was helping these men, becoming involved herself. Sam had said that it was the NSA who was after them, and that frightened her. Like everyone in this town, she knew how powerful and far-reaching the Agency’s capabilities were.

  If she made that call, she knew NSA could be onto that conversation in seconds, possibly before Metro could even make it here to arrest her brother.

  Sitting in the office alone, the phone resting on her lap, she sighed.

  She’d been so looking forward to seeing her brother again and now she was wishing he’d never come.

  At Reagan Junior High, the theatre was full, the performance approaching the end of the first half. Sitting at the back of the auditorium, Jack was having trouble focusing on his girls who were currently on stage, his stomach in knots. He had no idea where Archer or Sarah were, even if they were alive or dead. He had no idea if these supposed NSA operatives were coming here for him and the girls next, and no idea if the FBI knew Sam Archer was his brother-in-law and if he was going to be arrested for assisting him.

  All questions, no answers. He was a lawyer, not a cop or government field agent; he’d never encountered this type of situation before and the worry was so intense it was making him feel sick.

  Keeping his voice low, he turned to a man he vaguely knew sitting next to him.

  ‘Can I borrow your phone, Tom?’ he whispered. ‘Left mine at the office. Got to make an urgent call.’

  Looking at Jack curiously for a moment and sensing his tension, the man nodded, withdrawing his cell from his pocket, dialling in the password and passing it over. ‘Everything OK?’

  Jack nodded. ‘I’ll be back in a moment.’

  He eased himself past several parents and left the theatre, emerging into the empty hallway outside. Glancing down the corridor, seeing the two Metro officers guarding the doors standing with their backs to him, he dialled Sarah’s cell but the call wouldn’t go through.

  Looking down, he saw there was no signal and cursed in frustration. To his left, he saw a wall-mounted television in an empty classroom across the corridor; walking inside quickly he flicked it on, needing to check on the latest status of the manhunt.

  As applause came from the auditorium, the play reaching the interval, he stared in horror when he saw there’d been a shootout and drone attack in Anacostia, a stone’s throw from Barry Farms where the group had been hiding out. The only good sign was that the search still seemed to be ongoing, which meant they must surely still be alive.

  Glancing backwards, the applause from the theatre continuing, he checked the door; no-one was watching him.

  He looked down at the phone again; there was still no signal.

  Across the city, the black 4x4 carrying Thorne and Deerman made its way quickly through the streets, heading towards the Washington Circle office block near where Sarah Hardy had been buying coffee, lunch and sodas over the last five days. Aside from the occasional Metro cruiser, this part of the city was mostly devoid of any visible law enforcement, the Federal search and riot control still sucking resources across the Anacostia.

  ‘You got eyes on that building?’ Thorne asked.

  ‘I’m looking at recorded CCTV from the street outside and we were right,’ Burnett answered. ‘But Barrera and Ledger just left.’

  Thorne swore. ‘Where’d they go?’

  ‘I don’t know; I can’t tap into the live feed. The Agency will pick up on it. Veach is downstairs switching up the servers in case they try to trace us.’

  ‘I’m sending Riley and Tarketti over to you. Just in case Ledger and the bitch figured something out.’

  ‘Copy that.’

  ‘I think Archer, hi
s sister and the kid must still be inside the building,’ Burnett said. ‘They haven’t reappeared.’

  ‘Which floor?’ Deerman asked. ‘And which office?’

  ‘Working on it. But Metro have got an Emergency Response Team waiting a few blocks away on standby. Four of their officers showed up to do a sweep and missed Ledger by less than a minute. They’re checking the lobby and basement parking lot, which means they can’t know Archer’s upstairs or they’d send in the cavalry. Also, the Anacostia gang are a couple of blocks away.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I put the word out to them.’

  Thorne swore. ‘You think Metro and the Feds won’t notice a gang suddenly showing up in Washington Circle?’

  ‘If the gang encounter any cops and they radio it in, we’ll never get to Archer and the kid,’ Deerman said angrily. ‘There’ll be more Metro officers around than we can count.’

  ‘We don’t need them anymore,’ Thorne said. ‘That was a dumb move.’

  ‘So maybe we hit Archer, his sister and the kid with rifles?’ Tarketti suggested over the radio.

  ‘Archer’s smart,’ Thorne replied. ‘He got me in Barry Farms. He knows we’re using long-distance weapons. He won’t give us the opportunity.’

  ‘So what do we do?’ Riley replied

  Thorne thought for a moment. ‘We’ll deploy the Kinetic Fireballs.’

  Deerman looked at him.

  ‘That’ll work,’ he said, smiling slowly. ‘Holy shit, that’ll work.’

  ‘You’re sure you want to do that?’ Burnett said over the radio, overhearing the order. ‘That’s gonna leave one hell of a mess.’

  ‘That’s what we’re here for. He wants them dead, right?’

  ‘Yeah, but there’s a line. You do this, the boss is gonna lose his shit. He threatened you too, remember?’

  ‘He won’t follow through,’ Thorne replied, looking at the car’s GPS, seeing they were now only a couple of minutes away. ‘Let’s burn them out.’