by Michael Todd
The red phone rang, and he took a moment to stare at the damn piece of tech. He didn’t want to answer it or to hear what might be bad news. It could be good news too, he reminded himself, but was it really worth the risk?
“You’re being ridiculous,” he told himself firmly and snatched the phone up.
“Mr. Stafford?” Kelly’s calm, collected voice did little to soothe him.
“Please tell me that you have some good news for me,” he breathed into the mouthpiece. He could smell the alcohol on his own breath, and that annoyed him.
“I’m afraid not. We laid a trap for them in DC, but they managed to give my team the slip. They’re still in pursuit, and I have people coming in to try to cut them off. I’ll notify you when we have some more news.”
Charles didn’t care. He hung up, pushed himself out of his seat, and picked his glass up. His eyes unseeing, he stared at the city sprawled below him. He couldn’t be sure if he looked in the direction in which Washington DC would be, but he had to imagine that he did.
“Why won’t you fucking die?” he screamed suddenly and hurled the glass at the window. He’d wanted it to make some kind of dent in the window proper, but all he got was the shattered glass that spilled the last of his scotch on the floor.
The last of the scotch.
“God fucking damn it,” he whispered and fell into his chair where he sat and simply shook his head. He couldn’t help but feel that if Anderson and his muscle died in this mess, it would make it worth it. It would have to be worth it.
God knew he was spending enough money to get it done.
Anderson looked at Savage as the man worked on reloading the needle strip in his gun. They had driven in silence for a while. Anja had told them to start back to Philly and that she was prepping a surprise involving Sam and Terry. All they had to do was get their asses back to the warehouse and they could spring the trap.
That had been the good news, of course. The bad news was that the price on Anderson’s head had more than tripled and virtually every hit squad on the eastern seaboard now converged on them. Three million dollars—and who knew how much more by now—was one hell of a payday for these people, and they would come for blood.
He wondered if he should feel flattered that this much time and effort went into removing him from the picture. Courtney would probably have a similar price tag on her head, but considering how spectacularly the efforts to kill her in the Zoo had failed, he guessed Charles would wait for her to return and would focus all his efforts on the former colonel in the interim.
Maybe he should think about heading out to the Zoo for a while. He could persuade Ivy and Damon to fly to the Heavy Metal complex and give them a little education on the place, all while getting them and himself out of the line of fire for a while. They deserved that much at least, right?
The silence was killing him, but it didn’t seem right to turn the radio on, not at this juncture.
“How are you boys holding up?” Anja asked over their earpieces.
“All sunshine and roses over here,” Savage replied, slapped the magazine back into his pistol, and eased it into the holster under his shoulder. “How are the preparations going?”
“Sam and Terry have their instructions,” she replied. “Honestly, they seemed like they were excited to do some actual fighting after babysitting. No offense, Anderson.”
“None taken,” the man replied with a small smirk. “That said, if they’ll be out and about, who’ll watch over my family?”
“Well, there’s me, for one. There’s the security in your building for two. And Ivy has herself a gun and an itch to kill anyone who even tries to harm her or little Damon for three. I think they’ll be safe for a short while. You don’t need to worry about them right now, Anderson.”
“Well, I think I will anyway,” the former colonel replied. “It’ll help to keep my mind off worrying about our own safety. It feels both noble and a little less selfish.”
His companion nodded and looked like he approved.
“There is some bad news, though,” the hacker continued. “It looks like our friends at the parking lot had a good look at your plates and they spread the info to the rest of the hordes currently on the hunt. There should be another hundred or so miles still on that car’s charge, but you might want to avoid unnecessary pitstops along the way.”
“We didn’t plan to stop anyway,” Anderson replied. “Is there any more bad news? Besides the fact that we had to leave everything we own, of course.”
“Not really, although what bad news there is happens to be seriously sucky. On the bright side, I think I might have a way to get the money on Anderson lifted, but I’ll need some time on that. Don’t worry about it. Focus on staying alive and I’ll see to the rest.”
“Damn, that ruins my plans” Savage shook his head with mock gloom. “Here I had planned to trust you being awesome and so not stress about getting us out alive at all.”
“Don’t get sassy with me.” She chuckled. “But I appreciate the compliment, as sarcastic as it was.”
“You do what you’re good at,” he replied and patted Anderson lightly on the shoulder. “I’ll make sure nobody can collect on that bounty in the meantime.”
“Good lad.” She added something in what could have been Russian and the connection went silent.
“What do you think about that?” He glanced at his boss. “If anyone can remove the price on your head, it’ll be Anja. Once that happens, what do you think you’ll do?”
The other man shrugged. “Hell if I know. I simply want to go back home to Ivy and Damon. I want to have dinner with them again and apologize for being away so long. Maybe get Ivy something nice to wear first.”
“I think we both know how she’ll repay you for getting her something nice to wear.” He grinned and nudged the man in the shoulder.
“Don’t be gross,” Anderson warned. “Although, yeah. Even if it’s none of your damn business.”
“You might want to remember those tips I gave you back in New Orleans. Just saying.” He tried to avoid the half-hearted punch Anderson threw at him with limited success. The electric car was tiny, after all, with very little room to move around in.
“I want you to know, though,” the ex-colonel said once the quiet had settled around them again. “I wanted to thank you for watching my back. I know Ivy will have some thanks for you too.”
“Well, let’s not plot for the finish line before we reach it, eh?” He leaned back in his seat and stretched clumsily. “I’ll see what kind of thanks I’ll accept from Ivy. Maybe some hot dinners will have to do, right? I mean, Pegasus will cover the financial side of things.”
“You can be a real ass sometimes, you know that?”
“I know, but you love me anyway, don’t you, Colonel?” Savage quipped and lowered his seat a few notches. “We should be fine while we’re on the road but keep an eye open.”
“Do you think we should have told Anja about how we had to leave all our clothes and most of our weapons at the motel?” Anderson glanced at the man beside him, who let his eyes drift shut. “I know I mentioned it vaguely in the everything we own comment, but there has to be some cleaning involved in that.”
“If all goes well, we’ll probably be able to head back there tomorrow or the day after to collect our belongings and check out of the place properly.” The operative’s eyes remained shut. “If we don’t make it, they won’t be our problem anyway.”
“You’re killing me with all this optimism, buddy,” he replied wryly.
Savage popped an eye open to glare at him. “My point was that it’s a problem for when we get out of this alive. Stop worrying about something we can only take care of once our real problems go away. Stay focused.”
The ex-colonel didn’t particularly care to be talked to like that, but he didn’t want to tell Savage how to do his job. The man had a process that involved a lot of focus, and…a little bit of pre-fight napping, apparently.
He cou
ld still feel the effects of the adrenaline that had raced through his body during the firefight. The tingling in his fingers and jittery alertness lingered around the edges of his calm.
And there Savage was, taking a quick nap. The simple truth was that he would never understand the man, but maybe that was a good thing. He couldn’t help a small smirk as he relaxed against his seat and watched the miles tick by on the odometer. The car’s readout told him they had a little farther to go before the electric car would need recharging.
It might be enough to get them there, but they would possibly have to ditch the vehicle before then. Anja had said that she was blocking the vehicle’s GPS from notifying the police that it had been stolen. That was positive, but considering how much she was already doing, he had to assume she couldn’t cover that for long. They needed to start doing shit for themselves.
The first step, of course, was to eliminate these teams that had lined them in their sights.
Chapter Thirty-One
“What’s the news?” Charles demanded brusquely. He’d given up on expecting good news tonight. That way, if any did come in, he would be pleasantly surprised as opposed to the constant disappointment he’d had to endure over these past few weeks.
“The targets are still on the road to Philly,” Kelly replied. “I’m en route to intercept them.”
He nodded. “Push the bounty to five million before fees but spread it for wide appeal. I want every possible gun in the area pointed at them. I don’t care how you do it. Just do it.”
“Of course, Mr. Stafford,” the man replied, as quietly affable as always.
“I don’t want it to be a bullet from a distance,” he said suddenly. “I want it to be up close and personal. I want Anderson to know who is killing him. He has to look them in the eye and know that I’m the one. Understood?”
“Understood, Mr. Stafford. I’ll handle it personally.”
Charles hung up without a final farewell. He didn’t care that he was abrupt. Kelly was a professional and he would understand the kind of pressure he was under. And he would handle it personally. Whether the man meant he would perform the assassination himself—the thought of which made Charles a little giddy—or if he would personally delegate it was irrelevant. All that mattered was that Anderson didn’t survive the night.
“It had better be fucking worth it,” Charles whispered and scowled at the empty decanter.
Savage studied the open area outside their warehouse. Sunrise was still a couple of hours away, which meant the place was murky and difficult to see. Anderson pulled the car in to park a few hundred feet away from the building proper and the operative stepped out first. His alert gaze scanned the entire area before he indicated that it was clear for his boss to exit.
“So…” The ex-colonel looked around and let his eyes adjust to the darkness. “Just how fucked are we if we didn’t get the timing on this perfectly?”
“Right up the ass. With a cactus. The prickly kind.”
“That’s great. Anja, do you know if our people are in position?”
“Terry’s already in position and waiting for you,” she confirmed. “Sam, how close are you?”
“I’m still five minutes out,” she called. “Why the fuck is there so much traffic at three in the fucking morning?”
“Better make it two,” Savage muttered under his breath as he flicked the safety off his pistol. “Because we are about to have some serious company.”
The truth of that statement was immediately evident. A string of cars had already started to pull up on the other side of the damn lot. Most of them hadn’t bothered to stop but headed directly toward them. Savage drew a deep breath and stilled his thoughts to take himself into that dark, lonely place in his head.
“Get in the warehouse, Anderson,” he said. He raised his weapon and stepped into the cover the small electric car offered.
“I can help out here,” the man protested.
“Get in the damn warehouse—now,” he snapped and narrowed his eyes. He didn’t have time to remind him that he was the one these killers had targeted. They didn’t care about Savage as much as they would a bump in the road on their way to some serious cash.
This particular bump, however, would break bumpers and flatten wheels. He liked that analogy. Maybe he’d be able to use it some other time.
The ex-colonel broke away from the car, and Savage breathed a deep breath. The enemy were about a hundred yards away but closing fast. He let the breath out slowly, propped his arm on the car in front of him, and squeezed the trigger gently.
Not having to account for the kick of a firearm was the best, he noted as he fired a pair of needles into the air. At this distance and with the kind of weapon he used, he was surprised that he could even hit the cars. The fact that the needles both seemed to drive through the windshield in the driver’s seat area made him smile. The first car that he’d aimed at suddenly veered off course and cut a couple of the others off as the rest continued their hurtled approach.
Anderson had reached the warehouse and ducked behind the heavy steel door. He used it for cover as he started to lay down fire as well. Between the two of them, the six vehicles that had converged on them now were forced to halt barely twenty paces away, and the men inside piled out. Some carried assault rifles, others had shotguns, and there was a myriad of other weapons. One of them even carried a crossbow.
The operative ducked behind the electric car as they immediately opened fire at him.
“Any time you like, Terry,” he shouted when a spray of glass rained over him as the windows of the car shattered. The owners would not be happy about the condition of their car after this. He would have to think of a way to repay them.
“Roger that, Savage,” Terry confirmed in the distant, distracted voice long-distance shooters used when they had their eyes locked on a scope.
A loud crack echoed above the cacophony of firepower. A bullet pounding its way past the sound barrier was always an impressive sound, Savage thought. Shouts of alarm vented, and the fusillade paused. The operative peered from behind his scanty cover. The brains of one of the men sprayed across the car. Another loud crack split the air and a second head exploded.
Savage resumed firing, although he lacked the kind of pinpoint accuracy the sniper had. Another assassin fell, most of his chest cavity aerated, then another. This one clutched his leg as one of the needles struck home.
The attackers all came to the decision that they wouldn’t be able to attack the warehouse with a sniper breathing down the backs of their collective necks, and that became the priority problem. They had a good idea of where Terry was holed up and, at the risk of leaving Savage and Anderson free to fire on them, they started to lay down fire in the general direction of the sniper.
“Fudge!” Terry shouted through the mic. The sounds of bullets ricocheting around him said that he wouldn’t return fire until he’d moved to his new location. The difficulty presented by the warehouse had been to find a secure position that offered a clear line of sight. Rather than entrench himself in a single hide, he’d chosen two or three of the best to enable him to use each, depending on the situation. He’d rejoin the battle once he’d relocated, but for now, they were on their own.
A couple of the invaders remained to lay a steady stream of bullets toward the sniper who had already moved on. The rest conferred, no doubt to plan a strategy to attack the warehouse.
Some looked like they were pros. Even in the darkness, they hugged what little cover there was, mostly provided by the cars they had brought themselves. Of the two and a half dozen, though, about half seemed like they were in a hurry to be somewhere else. Some strafed cover fire while their comrades pushed their way toward the building. Their haste left them open to Savage, who was able to pick them off one by one without even needing to break cover.
More glass shattered and a couple of the bullets aimed at him punctured the car’s tires. At this point, the owners would be better off buying another vehicle
. Their insurance would cover stuff like this, right?
Those who had tried to rush the warehouse had either started to fall back or had dropped under the crossfire of Savage and Anderson’s positions. The rest, however, were more determined and far more skilled and circled cautiously to use the defender’s cover against them. They worked together to overlap their lines of fire while some moved into a position that would force Savage to peek out from behind his cover and expose himself in order to fire on them.
It wasn’t an ideal situation, he had to admit, but then again, none of this was. They still had one member of the party who was running unfashionably late.
Worse, the little car he huddled behind wouldn’t provide him protection for much longer. The bullets were already blazing through to his side. The only reason why he hadn’t taken any of those holes himself was because he was still hidden visually. The enemy simply battered the vehicle with firepower in the hope that someone would get lucky.
That wouldn’t last long, he realized. He needed to move.
He made a snap judgment. “I’ll need cover here.”
“Reloading,” Anderson called from behind the door. As soon as the former colonel was ready, Savage sucked in a deep breath, put aside the paralyzing fear of being shot in the back, and sprinted toward the warehouse. His partner pulled out from behind the door and fired as rapidly as he could to spread as much lead in the general direction of their attackers as he could. Terry had obviously secured his new position and added his lethal efficiency to the firefight. For a second, the attackers were caught in a flurry of fire from two sides.
It wasn’t much, but it was enough to allow the operative to careen into the warehouse. Unable to stop, he pounded into the wall behind Anderson at full speed. He winced as his shoulder twisted with the impact. The pull had left him tender, but not overly so, although his ribs flared with new pain. Still, he was in fighting shape. He’d been in worse.
“Mixon, you need to get out of there,” Savage said and stepped into position where Anderson had been as his comrade reloaded.