by Laura Acton
Jon nodded and turned his attention to the arriving TRF teams. Bravo Team rolled up, and Sergeant Camden Bradley strode to Jon. “What’s the plan?”
Camden, Jon, and Lexa were discussing strategy when Loki, Bram, Ray, and Echo Team disembarked from their SUVs. Everyone except Loki gathered around. Loki headed to the command truck which had just arrived.
Jon stopped him. “Loki, hold on a moment.”
Loki turned and started back to the group after Jon waved him back.
Jon surveyed the grim and angry faces. He had a duty to them. Jon stated with authority, “This one is personal, so I need everyone to stay focused and remain objective otherwise someone might get hurt. Can you stay objective?”
He watched as the faces morphed into firm resolve and he got nods of agreement from all.
Blaze hung up his phone after informing Colonel Sutton. He never in all his time in Special Forces heard the colonel lose his cool—until today. Sutton raged for several moments. Then with surprising speed, the colonel moved back to the cool, level-headed man Blaze knew and took charges of things from the military perspective. At Jon’s questioning look, Blaze said, “The colonel is pissed. He is taking care of some things for us. If the sniper is military, the MPs will take him into custody.”
Jon said, “Alright, we need to locate and apprehend an unknown subject. We have no profile, therefore, no idea how he or she will react. The shooter may or may not be aware we are here. We need to go carefully. Ray, we need blueprints. Loki, access to security cameras. We will start there.”
“Copy,” Loki and Ray called out as they headed for the command truck.
To the remainder, Jon said, “We have a thirty-story building we need to clear. This will take some time.” Counting the total TRF officers and Blaze and finding nineteen, Jon said, “Break off into six teams of three. Loki will man the command truck watching the monitors. Once we have the blueprints, we can designate areas for each team.”
As Jon continued to brief the team Blaze’s phone vibrated. He answered it and spoke with the caller. Lexa noticed his reaction to whatever was being said—it was both good and bad.
Blaze hastily concluded the call and turned to Jon. “We have a target.”
“Target?” Jon raised his brows not liking the military term.
“Sorry, I mean subject. It is Corporal Cody Merrill. Colonel Sutton explained per the general’s orders, he has been monitoring the calls of Jordan and Merrill. They just intercepted one from Merrill to Jordan asking her to cover for him. Merrill indicated he was going to be two to three hours late.”
“That makes him the subject how?” asked Noel.
Blaze replied, “His location and a couple of things he said in the conversation. They were unable to determine his exact location, but he’s in the Greater Toronto Area. Merrill said he was in North Bay, but they traced the cell nodes after I let Sutton know what went on here.
“Merrill was due in the office at nineteen hundred. So if Merrill were heading to the base from here now, he would be two to three hours late.” As Blaze’s stomach rolled and his gaze shifted back to Jon. “Merrill also said he was trying to collect a blond bobblehead.”
Jon’s gunmetal eyes narrowed as anger burned in his gut. “He said, what?”
Clenching his fists, Blaze said, “You heard me. Sick, just sick.”
Lexa saw the potential macabre connection the comment, and her heart ached, but she asked for clarification, “What does trying to collect a bobblehead mean?”
Blaze released his clenched fists and tried to remain professional as he explained. “With all the revelations over the last few days, Sutton has had Bransworth working tons of overtime. The two of them delved into Jordan’s and Merrill’s pasts. Many of the former staffers said Merrill had a hobby. When asked about it, Merrill would reveal he collected bobbleheads.
“With some deep digging, Bransworth believes he has found credible evidence Merrill is an assassin for hire. It seems many of Merrill’s travels with the general over the past seven years coincide with unsolved murders. The latest one was last January in Vancouver. The causes of those deaths are mostly long-range head shots.”
“That’s just sick,” Bram said. Then he thought of the betrayal the general would feel. Could this become any worse for the man?
Lexa stared at Blaze. “Jheeta? Merrill might have killed Mr. Jheeta?”
“Possibly.”
Loki called out, “Got security cameras up. Scanning the stairs first. You want me to go top down or bottom up, Jon?”
“Top down. How many stairwells?” Jon asked.
Ray replied, “Four and two sets of elevators, blueprints sent to your phones.”
Jon, Camden, and Crispin reviewed the designs then assigned teams to each stairwell and elevator set. Jon decided Loki would run the scans top down while the teams moved upward. The two teams at the elevators would position themselves on the ground floor. The patrol officers would maintain lockdown allowing no one to exit the building. They all moved out to execute the tactical plan.
St. Michael’s Hospital – Private Waiting Room – 5:00 p.m.
Nick had sat alone for what seemed like forever. His mind in a fog, not thinking of anything other than the fact it had only been four days ago he waited in this same room for word on Dan after the gang war. Waiting for word on one of his team members never was easy, waiting alone was hardest.
The trip over in the ambulance was fast but so rough. Listening to the heroic measures the medics took to keep Dan alive wrenched his gut. Dan is a fighter. He is young and strong, but is he strong enough to win this battle? Nick didn’t know. Patch seemed so shocked and unsure by the time they reached the hospital. It disconcerted him to see the stark fear in Patch’s eyes.
He was half listening to the activity taking place with the team at the Marksmen Enterprise building. They were good. Jon had the situation handled. Blaze’s input on who the shooter was wasn’t surprising, but the comment about bobbleheads turned Nick’s stomach.
Recalling his conversation with the general as they discussed his staff, increased Nick’s queasy feeling. General Broderick shared he took a real liking to Merrill, and the corporal often went with him to the gun range. The general liked to keep his shooting skills sharp so spent time on the range. One of the most revolting parts in all this was General Broderick had coached Merrill and helped him improve his long-range marksmanship skills. If the sniper were Merrill, it would rock the general to the core.
Nick tuned in as the team headed into the building. He could always count on Jon to lead them—they were a strong team. They would do what was necessary and pull together. Nick’s headset was muted, but that didn’t stop him from ordering them, “Go carefully. Be safe.”
He couldn’t bear to have anyone else hurt. Nick needed them here soon—it was hard waiting alone. The team was always there for one another. He knew they wanted to be here for Dan, but first, they would get the person who shot Dan so he could be brought to account for the deed.
Nick stared down at his hands. Dan’s dried blood covered them. He should find a bathroom and wash them, but at this moment it would be too much effort. So Nick sat, head bowed, eyes closed, and prayed Dan would win this battle.
Beyond Weary
17
July 19
Marksmen Enterprises – Stairwell 8th Floor – 5:10 p.m.
The teams were carefully working their way up the stairs. Loki could only view one area at a time. So he kept switching between the four stairwells on the monitor to assist the teams.
Lexa, Jon, and Blaze made it to the eighth floor of stairwell B using a three-man clearing technique. Jon passed Blaze to cover the next landing. Blaze maintained cover for Jon pointing his weapon the up the stairs while Lexa covered their rear. Jon stopped and motioned to Lexa and Blaze he heard something above them. Blaze and Jon stayed in position while Lexa quietly and swiftly descended a few floors to contact Loki.
Lexa softly said, “Lok
i, stairwell B, tenth or eleventh floor, got anything?”
Switching from viewing stairwell C to B, Loki replied, “The subject is on the tenth-floor landing.” When the subject’s head lifted as he did a little dance, Loki added, “Whoa! It is Corporal Merrill. He’s doing a little dance, it’s freaking strange. He’s carrying a rifle bag. Hands appear empty.”
Loki tracked Merrill as Lexa, Jon, and Blaze prepared to apprehend the subject. Loki was glad they found him—Dan would get justice. But Loki was flummoxed as he viewed the odd little man dance on the landing. He had never seen anyone do something so strange—the man was clearly nuts.
Merrill was enjoying his happy walk when suddenly he heard, “TRF, stop! On your knees, hands in the air,” yelled by a male voice and female voice. He looked down to find three weapons pointed at him.
Shocked, utterly shocked, Merrill squeaked out, “How did you find me? No one finds me.” He sank to his knees with his hands out to his sides palms up giving no resistance when he noticed Blaze. The glare of the captain’s eyes conveyed, ‘Run, give me a reason to kill you now!’
Lexa moved in as Jon and Blaze covered her. She relieved Merrill of the rifle slung on his back and cuffed him behind his back. The subject gave her no trouble. He remained calm as she patted him down for other weapons. Lexa thought Merrill was mostly shocked they found him.
“Subject in custody,” Jon called over the headset.
Nick sighed, relieved. He had been listening to the whole time. They had the guy thank goodness. So he spoke, “Good job team. Get to the hospital when you can.”
“How’s he doing?” Bram asked the one thing on everyone’s mind.
Nick breathed deep hating the answer to this question. “Not well. They lost him twice on the way to the hospital. He is fighting. I don’t know anything more. I’m in the same waiting room as Monday. Bram, Loki, Ray, see you soon. Jon, Lexa, Agent Stevens of NRB is waiting for you for at TRF HQ regarding the Murphy shooting. Blaze they need a statement from you, too. Get here when you can.”
Blaze glanced at Jon. “I need to do one of those interviews?”
As they escorted a compliant Merrill down the stairs, Jon said, “Yes. Let me tell you about the real process, so you are prepared.”
St. Michael’s Hospital – Surgery Department Break Room – 5:05 p.m.
Heather walked into the surgery department break room. She popped in to say hi to a few coworkers and grab a quick coffee before her shift started. She found the three nurses and one doctor in the room glued to the TV set. A quick glance revealed it was a report on the officer’s funeral.
She turned away to pour her coffee and thought, sad day for the TRF officers. Heather had come to know and like the members of Alpha Team over the past three nights. An exclusive spot in her heart had been carved out for one very courageous blond officer. Dan went through so much and today would be hard for him. He felt so guilty he couldn’t save his fellow officer.
She grabbed her coffee and turned around to talk to the others when she registered bits and pieces of the newscast. “Breaking news … very distressing scene … General Broderick shot … Constable Broderick shot by … an army sergeant killed … suffered from PTSD … grief stricken … arrested … army not releasing detail … stay tuned …”
Heather gaped at the TV as the paper cup slipped from her grasp and splattered coffee all over. The color drained from her face as she watched the image of Patch astride a gurney being pushed out of the church.
Beth turned to find out what happened and to joke with her friend about being fumble fingers. But she noted Heather turned deathly white. She rushed over, grabbed her arm, and guided her to a chair. “Heather, what’s wrong?”
Heather only pointed at the TV.
Beth didn’t understand. “You mean the news report?”
The slight dizziness and shock prevented speaking, Heather only nodded.
“What about it?”
Several deep breaths later, her haze began to dissipate. Finding her voice, Heather asked, “Do you know which hospital they are going to?”
“Yeah, here. The constable is in the ER. The general is still en route I think. They’ll be sending the constable up shortly. Still stabilizing him for surgery. It’s bad, armor-piercing round in the chest. The medics lost him several times on the way in. He lost a lot of blood, almost bone dry so to speak by the time he got here.” Beth realized the more she said, the paler Heather became, so she stopped. “You don’t look well.”
Tears welled up and slipped down Heather’s face. “Please God, don’t let Dantastic die.” Peering up at Beth, she asked, “Which surgeon has Constable Broderick been assigned to?”
“Dr. Markson. Dr. Fraser called him in. He’ll be here in a few minutes.” Knowing something was wrong Beth added, “You know Markson is the best thoracic surgeon in Toronto. If anyone can save the constable, it will be him.”
Heather pulled herself together. “I need to be assigned to the surgical team. I need to help with this one.” She rushed out the door to find the Head Nurse of Surgery.
St. Michael’s Hospital – ER Treatment Room 1 – 5:15 p.m.
Dr. Fraser had been deeply shaken when Dan and Patch arrived at the emergency room. The only information he had before they arrived was a man with a gunshot wound to the chest was inbound. He assumed it was gang related. Only a few hours ago, he discussed running and laughed with them over a shaving mishap. The description of almost slicing his throat open—greatly exaggerated. Seeing Dan like this devastated him. How the hell did he get shot at a funeral?
Malcolm did everything in his power to stabilize Dan—the bleeding wouldn’t stop. He lost count of the number of bags of blood they hung. He normally booted the medics out immediately, but Fraser knew he couldn’t make Patch to leave under any circumstance. Nor did he want him to go. Patch had too much knowledge about Dan. He tapped into it to save this young man.
By the bleeding alone, Fraser knew it was serious, and he needed to move Dan into surgery, but he needed the best surgeon save Dan. So Malcolm placed a call to Bill Markson. It was Bill’s off day, but Markson was the best, so he pleaded with his friend to come in and take this case. Bill agreed and would arrive in ten minutes.
All the monitors went wild. The nurse yelled, “Code Blue.”
“Thunderation!” Dr. Fraser exclaimed as Dan flat-lined for the third time since he got to the emergency room.
Malcolm wondered how much more Dan’s body could take. This would make the fifth time they shocked his heart back to life. Dr. Fraser charged the paddles and shocked Dan. No heartbeat. The paddles charged again. He shocked him again. Still flat line. Malcolm increased the setting on defibrillator and hit Dan once more. His eyes glued to the monitor as the paddles charged.
Beep, beep, beep.
Dr. Fraser drew in a deep breath as a sinus rhythm restarted—they revived Dan again. He observed the nurse hanging another bag of blood. Bill needed to be here now. He managed to stabilize Dan enough for surgery, but he didn’t know how long that would last. He checked the clock and noted the surgical team lead nurse would arrive shortly for the exchange of information.
Patch held Blondie’s hand as tears streamed down his face. He leaned down and whispered in Blondie’s ear. “Hold on. Please hold on. You can’t leave us yet. We just found you. Don’t make me say goodbye to you too. I can’t lose anyone else—I won’t survive. So fight for me, please fight for me.”
St. Michael’s Hospital – Private Waiting Room – 5:20 p.m.
The waiting room door opened, and Winds, Angus, and Russ entered. The general must have arrived, Nick thought dully.
Winds headed straight to Nick. “Any word on Blondie?”
Nick shook his head. “No and Patch hasn’t been in. I’m sure he is staying with Dan—he won’t leave his side. The trip here was gut wrenching. Dan almost didn’t make it. I assume the general’s here now.”
Winds nodded his head as fear for Blondie clenched his gut.
>
“How’s the general?” Nick asked.
“Pretty shocky when we left. Things got ugly in the church after you departed with Blondie.”
Nick gave him a questioning look. “Ugly, how?”
Winds explained everything. “I shouldn’t have left. I needed to give a statement to the MPs regarding Murphy and the major, but I figure they can find me here. I’m not going anywhere. My brothers need me here now.”
Nick only patted Winds’ shoulder in mutual understanding—they needed to be here. Two men sat silent, heads bowed, hands covered in the dried blood of noble men, and hoped Dan would make it.
After a bit, Winds asked, “Any word on the sniper?”
“The team arrested Corporal Merrill.” Nick shared the details Sutton and Bransworth found and the comment about bobbleheads.
Winds shook his head. “The Broderick’s didn’t deserve what they suffered at the hands of those three miscreants.”
“That is too kind a description for them,” Nick said quietly.
Angus suggested, “Vermin, lice, scum buckets, villains, slime balls.”
“Good-for-nothing scuzzbags,” Russ added.
A smile teased at the corner of Nick’s mouth. “Ratfinks, lowlife dirtbags, sons of bitches.”
Winds leaned back and proposed. “Reprobates, blackguards, malefactors, snakes in the grass.”
Angus frowned. “Hey, that isn’t nice to snakes. Snakes are better than those bastards.”
They all agreed on a term and said in unison, “Bastards!”
St. Michael’s Hospital – ER Treatment Room 1 – 5:25 p.m.
Dr. Fraser wondered why the lead surgical nurse hadn’t arrived yet as Heather entered. Shocked to see each other Malcolm stammered out, “Heather, you’re the lead?”