by Michael Todd
He worked his way cautiously from behind his cover. She was too focused on the other fight to notice him until the suppressor pressed into her temple. Her eyes widened in surprise as Savage hauled the man down in an expertly executed judo flip that felled him with a solid thud. The operative flipped his gun quickly and used the grip as a club to deliver three hefty blows—one to the assassin’s head, once on the jaw, and the last on the cheekbone to draw a splatter of blood. The man curled and another strike hammered home on the back of his head before his body went limp. It wasn’t possible to tell if he was dead.
“It’s not worth it,” the woman said and dropped her weapon hastily. “Not for my share of a million bucks.”
The sub-machine gun swayed, caught in the strap that hung from her neck. Anderson reached over to undo it quickly and kicked the weapon away.
Savage straightened slowly, his face and clothes splattered with blood.
The ex-colonel looked at the blood that now began to seep onto the room’s carpet. If he wasn’t dead from the strike to the back of his head, he definitely was now.
He looked at the operative, who calmly adjusted his pistol into to the proper grip, a little out of breath.
“Are you good?” Anderson asked.
“Better now. Are you going to kill her or what?”
The woman stared at him, fear in her eyes. “You don’t need to kill me. I promise.”
“Did you even search her for another weapon?” he demanded and aimed his gun at her too.
“Come on, man, we don’t have to kill her.” He hadn’t actually searched her for any other weapons, which was probably a good idea now that he thought about it. He ran his hand hastily around her waist until he found her sidearm as well as a combat knife she had attached to her belt.
“Careful there, buddy.” Savage grinned. “I might have to tell the wife that your hands wandered as well as your eyes.”
“Seriously, you just killed three guys. Can you at least show some professionalism?” The ex-colonel snorted and flung the weapons aside.
“Not cool, dude,” the woman said and shook her head.
“You don’t have a say in this.” The operative took a step closer. “And I have already killed three people, so unless you want to make it an even four, you’ll to need to share some juicy gossip, okay?”
“How is four even?” the other man asked.
“It’s an even number. Come on, Anderson.”
“I’m not being paid enough for this,” the woman muttered.
“To be fair, we’re not paying you either,” he replied. “On the other hand, if you fill us in on who you were supposed to report to, we can… Well, let you get out of this alive.”
“Look, we got our contract from the people at the Research Triangle,” the gunwoman said. “There was a monetary prize involved, of course, but they were simply going to pay us out of the contracts.”
“The…the Research Triangle?” Savage asked and looked confused.
“Is that…the Research Triangle?” Anderson asked. He, at least, seemed to have a better idea of what she meant.
Irritated, the operative pressed the barrel of his weapon firmly against her temple.
“You’ll have to be a little more explicit, sweetheart. The Research Triangle is an academic region or something. I don’t have the time or the patience for this kind of bullshit story.”
“No, you don’t get it. Wait—let me explain, Goddamnit.”
He glanced at the other man who nodded. “Okay, but I want the truth. It’s up to you whether you walk out of here or not.”
“Yes, yes, God…” she whispered. Her eyes closed as she sank against the wall and anticipated the trigger-pull that would end her life. “I swear, I’m not lying. There’s the Research Triangle everyone knows about—with the universities and all. That’s in North Carolina. But there’s a building in DC where all the government research grants and contracts pertaining to the military go that they call the Research Triangle. It’s a fucking joke—you know, because of the research stuff and because this stupid-ass building is actually built in a triangle.”
“You guys are associated with the Pentagon?” He looked startled for a moment.
“Not directly,” she replied but her eyes remained tightly closed. “We’re associated with one of the Pentagon’s domestic contractors as independent agents, brought on for strictly blacked-out stuff. Look, this is the comm unit they gave us to let them know that the job was done.”
Savage took the device and glanced at Anderson, who seemed to have as much difficulty processing this as he did. They were being attacked through official channels. Exactly what kind of pull did this Charles Stafford have?
“Are you going to kill me?” she asked after an uncomfortable silence. She did at least feel safe enough to open her eyes again.
“Fuck me,” Savage said bitterly.
“I’m not… I’m flattered, but no thanks,” she replied.
“What?” He snapped his gaze back to look at her. “No. Shut up and let us think of a way to get us all out of here alive and in one piece.”
“I’m part of the ‘us all’ I take it?” she asked and gave them each a hopeful look.
Anderson shrugged. “What kind of options do we have?”
The operative shook his head. “We have three bodies to deal with and I don’t feel like explaining this situation to the police, do you?”
The other man shook his head definitively.
Savage nodded and tapped at his ear lightly. “Hey, Control, do you read me?”
“Wait, why am I Control all of a sudden?” Anja asked.
“Because I don’t feel like saying your actual name in front of the hostile.”
“Oh, good point,” she replied and sounded like she was grinning. “I like it. Can we call me Control for every mission?”
“Will you stop calling me J—by your affectionate nickname for me?”
“Yeah, that won’t happen,” she grumbled.
“And you have your answer, nice and gift-wrapped. Now, are there any police alerts for our location?”
“None at the moment,” she said.
“It’s not like we made much noise,” Anderson pointed out.
“Right. What are our chances of cleaning this situation up here before anyone notices the bodies and calls the police?” Savage queried and lowered his weapon. Anderson kept his pistol pointed at the attacker, just in case.
“You can’t walk a couple of bodies out of that room,” Anja said and definitely sounded less than optimistic.
“Three bodies,” Anderson clarified.
“That’s still covered by the expression a couple—look it up,” Anja interjected quickly. “What are you thinking, Savage?”
It was interesting how she called him Jer as a rule unless they were in dire situations like she understood the fact that there was a time and a place for their inside jokes. Anderson couldn’t help a small smile.
“Well, if this were any other time and any other place, I could change the names on your registration, erase any footage of your having been there, and let the police put this down to another incident of gang violence,” the hacker explained.
“And why can’t we do this now?” Savage asked.
“If the Pentagon are interested in finding their people again, they would find ways around that,” she snapped.
“They’re already coming after me anyway,” Anderson reminded them. “We merely need to make sure that law enforcement doesn’t come after us too.”
“Okay.” Anja paused for a moment while she worked. “I can erase any footage of you being in the hotel and change the names and everything on the system, but thanks to your little stunt out on the balcony, you two have popped up on all kinds of social media. I can corrupt and change it, but I’m not God. Something will get through if anyone looks hard enough.”
Savage nodded. “We don’t need to be invisible, merely hard to find. Do what you can. We’ll leave the bodies in here
, and…you—” He turned back to the woman, who still had Anderson’s gun aimed at her head. “I assume there’s someone waiting for you downstairs in the getaway car? The fact that you came in with that much firepower and without any suppressors tells me you don’t mind making a mess, but you would need to get out quickly. Can you lead us to them?”
She nodded.
“Good, then we only need to do a quick wardrobe change and we’ll be right down.” He immediately began to strip down the assassin closest to his size.
The men changed quickly and took turns to keep an eye on their hostage before they were both dressed as their attackers. Both looped the sub-machine guns around their shoulders, but Savage kept his pistol ready behind the woman. They gave her weapon back to her since it would appear odd that one of the party wasn’t armed when they exited, but they removed the magazine and ejected the round in the chamber before they returned it.
“Let’s go. Service elevator to the basement parking lot, right?” Savage asked, and she nodded.
“I’ll clear a path for you,” Anja said. “Oh, and I’ve already altered your reservations to different names and will add another week to your stay. Put the do not disturb sign on the door and you should have time to get the hell out of Dodge before anyone discovers the bodies.”
“You’re the best, Control,” Anderson said and pulled his mask up as they left the room. They moved quickly as their hostage seemed to understand that they wouldn’t mind leaving her behind if she made a scene. They found an empty service elevator waiting and stepped inside. It was all electronic and tied to the hotel’s Wi-Fi, which meant Anja could operate it and deliver them directly to the garage.
“Keep scrubbing, Control,” Savage instructed as they stepped out and swept the area to ensure it was abandoned before moving out. The gunwoman guided them through the garage to a large black SUV.
“Why is it always an SUV?” The operative wondered aloud as they approached. When they were a few paces away, the passenger side door opened to reveal a fifth man who leaned across from the driver’s seat and stared expectantly at them.
“Did they put up a fight?” he asked. “Is that why you guys took so fucking long?”
He had no time to react when Savage yanked the gun away from the woman’s back and pulled the trigger. The unsettling whoosh of the needle dragged magnetically through the elongated barrel fast enough to punch into the man’s forehead. He dropped wordlessly in the driver’s seat.
The operative turned the woman to face him. “Look, as of right now, you are as fucked as we are. If you head back and try to report what happened here to your employers, they will eliminate you. Nod if you understand.”
She did.
“Your best chance at surviving from this point forward is to take this SUV, drive out to a swamp, dump the body, and disappear.” His voice had taken on the cold, commanding quality of a man in a hurry and on a mission. “If I see you again, I will kill you. Do you understand?”
She nodded again.
“Do you think anything that I’ve said up until this point is a lie?”
She shook her head.
“Good.” He appeared to believe her. “Now get in that SUV and get the fuck out of here.”
She broke away from him quickly, scrambled into the vehicle, and shoved the body into the back seat. As deadly as the needle gun was, it didn’t make much of a mess, which was another plus in Anderson’s book. The door slammed behind her and she started the engine and peeled out of the garage.
“Do you really think she’ll disappear?” Anderson asked as they removed the masks.
“If nothing else, it will keep her thinking long enough for us to disappear ourselves.” He shook his head as he turned his pistol’s safety on and tucked it into its holster. “It was either that or kill her, and I thought the two of you had a nice connection.”
“Fuck off,” his boss snapped.
“I’ve wiped you guys from the system and I turned the cameras off on the garage, so if you ladies are done hugging it out, I think it’s time to get out now.” Anja sounded more professional than usual.
“Will do, Control,” Savage said with a grin as they jogged to the company car, fell inside, and he eased out of the parking space.
“What will police think when they don’t find bullets in the bodies?” he asked. The automated garage system opened for them before they even reached it. “There can’t be many people dead from splinters propelled at supersonic speeds, right?”
“That is actually a fantastic question.” Anderson looked intrigued.
The agent leaned back in his seat and checked to make sure they weren’t joining the parade route before he pulled onto the road. “They’ve seemed content to blame all this shooting on gang violence, but at some point, they have to figure out that gangs aren’t this well armed.”
“I guess we’ll have to have to cross that bridge when we get there.” Anderson sighed. “I honestly don’t look forward to that. Anyway, where to now?”
“Well, you heard her,” Savage said. “The Research Triangle—this secret building, I mean—is only a couple of miles out of DC. Anja, can you run a trace on this little device she gave us?”
“Will do, once I’m finished wiping your faces off of every camera I can find.” The hacker sounded unhappy. “I have software that’s scoured the social media sites using face recognition, but I need to inspect each one manually before I tamper with it. It’ll take me a while. Thanks for that, by the way. Couldn’t you have kept your asses inside for the parade?”
“We’ll make sure not to get involved in local festivities in the future.”
His boss agreed, although his reasons probably differed from the other man’s.
“I’m no good at this,” Ivy complained. She yanked her ear muffs off and looked over to where her companion inspected the weapon she’d handed back.
Sam narrowed her eyes at the woman. She was doing reasonably well, all in all. You couldn’t expect everyone to have the same proficiency as a trained professional, but the fact that she was surrounded by those and even had a husband who was Special Forces created lofty and frankly unrealistic expectations about where she should set her standard. She was more than comfortable telling her pupil that not getting her pistol shots into the ten-ring from thirty yards—or even the seven-ring—was perfectly acceptable. Frankly, she wasn’t even sure she could pull that particular rabbit out of the hat every time.
She could get it right most times, but she’d been brought in as one of the best, after all. If she had to train a civilian, she couldn’t have the woman thinking she needed to be a crack shot after only two or three weeks. Hell, Sam had been at it for most of her adult life.
Maybe she should have left the training to Terry. He was better at long-distance shooting than she was anyway. From what she’d heard from him and read in his file—provided to her by Anja—the man was something of a freak. He would hold Ivy to the kind of standards she held herself to and get her there in a shorter amount of time. Assuming the woman didn’t simply quit out of frustration first.
“You simply need practice, girl,” she said patiently and made sure the SIG’s barrel had cooled before she disassembled the weapon quickly and placed the pieces on the small red felt blanket. “Look, you’ve been frustrated with shooting practice a lot lately. Why don’t we move on to hand-to-hand? You’re getting better at that part of it.”
“I used to do PE.” Ivy shook her head, clearly still irritated. “I guess I’m frustrated with other stuff and I feel it more when I’m on the range. I’m sorry.”
“What has you frustrated?” Sam set the last piece in place and gave the other woman her full attention.
Ivy started to put the pistol back together, working almost reflexively. They’d done this enough times for her to be able to do it without needing to pay attention, even if a couple of seconds could be shaved off if she did.
“I’m worried about Jim,” she said softly. “It’s not like him to
not try to contact us, right?”
She nodded. “Savage has kept them busy and on the move too, remember. They need to stay one step ahead, and since keeping you and Damon safe is up to me and Terry, he shouldn’t worry about you guys.”
“You’re not used to being in this position,” the woman commented. “Having to comfort people in a bad situation?”
“I’m doing my best here.”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” The woman slid the last piece home and placed the weapon into her instructor’s hands. “I haven’t been the easiest person to babysit.”
“Hey, I like a challenge.” Sam handed her the magazine. The compact weapon held fifteen Parabellum rounds, which Ivy now loaded smoothly and precisely.
“If you really looked for a challenge, you wouldn’t have worked as a babysitter,” she retorted and finished with the loading before her companion handed the weapon back to her. Weapon safety had been drilled into Ivy for days before her instructor had let her shoot the damn thing. She checked that the manual safety was on before she slipped the loaded mag into it and nodded when the slider slipped forward to automatically chamber the top round. Satisfied, she aimed the pistol into the range, effectively pausing the conversation as earmuffs came on, and focused on the dummy down-range, still thirty paces away.
Fifteen rounds later, she’d gotten a little closer to the center but it was still a wide spread. Again, it wasn’t at all bad for a beginner to hit a human-sized target in center mass from that range with a smaller pistol.
She still looked annoyed as the range was cleared and the other woman walked over to collect the paper target that had been taped onto the dummy replace it with a new one.
“Look…” Sam shook her head firmly as her pupil glared at the target like it owed her money. “Why don’t we take a break from this for the rest of the day. Girls like shopping, right? We can go shopping or do something girls normally do.”