by G. K. Parks
“What’s up?” he asked, shutting the door behind him.
“Homeland had search warrants signed for a few other restaurants to check for additional weapons. Cooper’s talking to the truckers. Lucca’s doing something. Jakov won’t crack, but I found this.” I handed him the printed pages Agent Lawson had faxed over. “The IP traces back to the last known physical address of Niko Horvat.”
“Shit,” Jablonsky cursed, reading through the intel. “Do we know where or when Shade’s planning its next attack?”
“No idea. We have people working on it.”
“That whiny ass bitch. I’d love to strangle that arrogant weasel.”
“Jakov?”
“Jakov, Fuckoff, whatever his name is,” Mark growled. “He knew about this. I don’t know how he fits into it, but he does. He’s said just enough that I’m positive of that fact.”
“Aren’t we all,” I retorted. “I…um…told Lucca to contact the AG’s office. Since Jakov wants a lawyer, we ought to give him one.”
“On whose authority?”
“Yours,” I said, wondering if I was about to be the recipient of Jablonsky’s anger.
He nodded. “Fine. Let’s hope it’s the right call.” He flipped through the pages again. “Anything else of use?”
“Behr took custody of the hit squad. He hasn’t offered any insight into what he’s learned, but since it looks like they were hired, they should be able to hand us Niko and the leaders of Shade on a silver platter. We need to force the other part of this joint task force to share what they have.”
“I’ll handle Assistant Director Behr. For now, why don’t you take a break? Tinsley and I will give a briefing, and I want you on hand just in case there are questions. After that, you’re going home.”
“But, sir—”
“Until we know more, you’re standing on a landmine, and you aren’t cleared for action. You’ve done enough today, Parker.” He offered a slight smile. “We’ve finally made real progress. Well done.”
Turning, he went back into the interrogation room, and I headed for the kitchen which was next to the bullpen. It had been a long day. Evers didn’t notice my reappearance, and the other cops were busy doing what they did best. Taking a seat at the table, I glanced at the nearly empty coffeepot, but it still held no appeal. Settling for a bottle of water, I dialed Detective Nick O’Connell. He had never gotten back to me, but I wanted to give him the heads up to be vigilant in the event Shade made good on its threat to attack the entire police force.
“You’re telling me that it’s open season on cops?” Nick asked. “How exactly is that different from any other day?”
“It’s not, but some Eastern Europeans hired private mercenaries to carry out the threat. I’m sure that you’ll be briefed shortly. Right now, Jablonsky is updating the head of the counterterrorism unit, but what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t tell you first?”
“You realize that you’re breaking a few rules by doing this,” O’Connell chided. “Apparently that partner of yours hasn’t rubbed off yet.”
“Don’t call him that.”
“Sorry, but man-slave has negative connotations.” He went silent for a moment. “Thanks for the warning.”
“Sure.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t get you anything on that CI.”
“Eh, you’ll just owe me.”
“You have a strange way of keeping score.”
After the call, I considered pestering Davenport, Lawson, and Lucca for updates, but I didn’t believe that they had learned anything new in the last thirty minutes. If anything, we had an information overload at the moment. It was nice to have some answers, but every single one of them had led to dozens of questions. At least we knew where to begin, and I was certain that my colleagues were doing everything they could to find those answers as quickly as possible. Obviously, there would be contingencies and protocols in place to safeguard the police and the city from this very real threat. We’d do what needed to be done. We’d find a way to survive, and the person or persons responsible would pay. It’s what we trained for.
Another loud thud sounded, shaking the table. Letting out an agitated sigh, I capped my drink and stood up. How clumsy could people be?
“Again with the freaking water bottles?” I muttered, opening the door to the hallway. Seeing the assault rifle, I barely had time to dive to the side before the man opened fire. Instinctively, I reached for my firearm. “Fucking A.”
Seeking cover inside the kitchen, I took a deep breath and glanced out into the bullpen. Two guys in full assault gear were conducting a sweep, firing every few seconds to deter the dozen armed police officers from successfully retaliating. From what I could tell, no one had been seriously injured yet.
Another barrage swept the kitchen above my head, and the coffeepot shattered. Okay, now this was personal. The sound of return fire emanated from the rear of the bullpen. One of the assailants tossed a concussion grenade toward the back of the room and followed through with heavy fire when the police officers hurried to escape the explosion. The grunts and screams were unmistakable.
I couldn’t stay in this room while people were being shot. Running at a crouch from inside the kitchen, I took cover behind the first desk I came upon. The two assailants remained back-to-back, so they could keep an eye on their surroundings and avoid an ambush. The nearest cops were positioned at their desks or inside their offices, taking potshots at the assailants in between hoping their cover positions remained intact.
At the sight of their brethren being gunned down, a few were inching closer from the sides, hoping to box in the assailants. From what I could see of the hand signals, they were planning some kind of distraction and physical takedown. Glancing in the other direction, I spotted Evers on the radio. Back-up would be arriving soon.
Feeling naked without a gun, I slid open the bottom drawer, working my way upward through the desk in the hopes of finding someone’s spare weapon. No joy. More gunfire rang out, and I checked the progress the police were making on their advancement. This wouldn’t end well. They were sorely outgunned, but they had to try. They couldn’t stand by and let their friends and co-workers die. I swallowed, knowing that I couldn’t sit back and watch it happen. I had to do something to help.
Scanning the area, I spotted an alcove in the hallway about twenty feet behind my current position. Twenty feet wasn’t that far. I could make it. Edging backward, I wished I wasn’t an outsider and that I knew the cops and their plays, but I didn’t. And at the rate things were going, I never would.
“Hey, assholes,” I bellowed as soon as I made it to my feet. I’d backed up nearly five feet from the desk, making the distance less to travel. “Drop your weapons.”
Of course, one of them fired at me, and I dove toward the nook in the wall. Pockmarks appeared on the edge of the wall before I made it to safety, but I didn’t think I was hit. And if I was, the adrenaline would keep me numb and moving for now.
The gunfire continued, hammering the wall and crumbling the edge. I didn’t dare peek out to see what was going on. Instead, I pressed my face against the farthest corner and covered my head with my arms, waiting for the barrage to stop. The faintest click sounded, and I knew one of them had to reload.
“Agent Parker,” Evers hissed. His office was a few feet from my current position on the other side of the corridor. “You alive?”
I didn’t move from my position, fearing that once the gun was reloaded the attack would continue, but after a few seconds, I untucked my body and glanced out. The police had taken one of the assailants down, but the other one had somehow backtracked to the elevator. He tossed another two grenades to either side of the room and held his position, firing as the cops were forced to flee their positions. At least two more officers were hit. The blood spatter covered one of the walls, and I didn’t want to process the possibilities.
“Where’s back-up?” I asked, the rage over the violence making me bolder by the second.
Leaving the alcove, I joined Evers in his office. “I need a weapon.”
“Tactical is on the way. Additional support is en route. We have an ESU team inside the building, but from the chatter, these assholes have breached every department inside this building.”
“What about the other precincts?” I asked, listening while I searched his office for useful items.
“I don’t know. Dispatch isn’t responding.” He reached into his ankle holster and held out a snub-nosed thirty-eight. “How can you shoot?”
“With my other hand.” I shook off the question, loaded one into the chamber, and took a deep breath. “How do you know support is en route if dispatch won’t respond?”
“Someone else made the call before I did. I picked up the radio chatter,” he replied. He pushed me away from the door, taking up the primary position to glance outside. “If you know anything that might help, now’s the time.”
“They’re mercenaries, probably from the Eastern Bloc. Shade supplied them with weapons.” Putting the gun down, I removed my cell phone from my pocket, but the circuits were overloaded, preventing outgoing calls from connecting.
“Shit,” Evers replied, “that’s why they’re here.” He looked back at me. “We had the stockpile brought to the precinct for evidence cataloging.” Another scream sounded and a few grunts. “It’s those damn grenades.” He swallowed. “I can’t leave my people out there to die.”
“There’s only one left.” I took a deep breath. “There’s a lot more of us.”
“We don’t know how many more are inside the building,” Evers said. “Hell, we don’t even know how many are on this floor.”
I looked at him. “Then let’s go kill that son-of-a-bitch and get your people some help. We’ll count these shitheads after they’re dead.”
More shots were fired. This time, it was the police. Evers edged out of the office, hugging the wall and keeping me behind him. Ten steps later, we could see the entire bullpen. It looked like a massacre. Desks were charred. Paper, shrapnel, and who knows what covered the floors and walls. One of the assailants was cuffed and unconscious, and the other was clearly dead.
“I need some help over here,” someone called, and I saw the remnants of the bloodbath.
Evers took off toward the sound, just like the rest of the police force that had been scattered during the attack. I was on his heels when I heard another thud in the distance. Jablonsky, I thought, remembering Evers warning that every department was under attack. Reversing course, I raced down the corridor toward the interrogation rooms.
At the juncture in the hallway was another two man assault team. They were scanning the area for targets, and I was half a second away from being spotted. Unfortunately, there were no cover positions or unlocked doors.
At this distance, there was a good chance I could take out one of the men before being seen but not both. Taking aim, I used my casted arm to help steady my shot, and I fired. The headshot looked clean, but with the helmet, I couldn’t be certain. Then the man dropped. Without waiting, I ran toward the second target, firing haphazardly. Shots rang out, but I didn’t slow or stop. It was harder to kill a moving target, and I couldn’t let him make it back to the bullpen. Enough damage had already been done.
The shots were getting closer, and I slid like a baseball player, hoping to knock the man off balance before he could shoot me. My leg kicked into his shin, but he didn’t go down. I rolled to the left, going deaf in my right ear from the closeness of his latest shot. I fired at him again, hitting his body armor with no effect. I had to make a headshot or else the bullets did nothing.
He kicked the gun out of my hand, and then he stomped down on my side to hold me in place. I screamed, opening my eyes in time to see the barrel of the long gun inches from my face. Squeezing my eyes closed, I was hit by an incredibly heavy weight, vaguely aware of the sound of a single gunshot. Apparently they were wrong; you do hear the bullet that kills you.
“You motherfucker.” The weight eased slightly then dropped down again. “You piece of shit.” This time I recognized that the voice belonged to Tinsley. The weight was dragged off of me, and I gasped, opening my eyes to see the world hadn’t rid itself of me just yet. “Don’t move, Agent. You’ve been hit.”
I pushed my palm against the blood, dropping my head back against the tile floor and forcing air into my lungs. “No, I’m okay. They need help in the bullpen. Go. Evers said there are more inside the building. Tactical and back-up are on the way.”
“Go, help your people,” Jablonsky said, kneeling next to me. “We’re okay.”
“Be careful,” she said, heading toward where I’d come from.
“I’m okay,” I repeated, taking Mark’s offered hand and getting up.
“Good,” he gave me an uncertain look, “we’re to hold tight until help arrives. I’ve locked the prisoners inside the interrogation rooms. We think the gunmen might be here to free the hostages.”
“Perhaps, but Evers said they moved the weapons cache into the building from Pepper. He thought that was the impetus for the attack.”
Jablonsky looked at me. “This is what Shade planned. Total pandemonium. God knows what is happening out there while the police are busy fighting to stay alive in here.”
“We can’t just sit here and wait for help to arrive. We have to do something to even the odds.”
“You’re sure you’re good?” He lifted my shirt. Blood ran from the wound, but I disregarded it. Jablonsky pulled a first aid kit from the wall and taped a bandage against the injury. “It looks superficial, but I’m no doctor.”
“Great.” I tugged my shirt down and checked the clip in my gun. “Let’s help the police retake the building.”
Thirty-two
“Stay on my six,” Jablonsky insisted, taking point as we moved toward the staircase.
We’d removed the weapons from the two dead assailants, so at least we wouldn’t be overpowered. Between the two of us, we had four frag grenades, two AKs, and a few extra magazines. It wasn’t ideal, but it might save our asses.
Tinsley and the uninjured police officers had secured the elevator, so Jablonsky and I were securing the stairwell. That would sufficiently block off the floor, but it did nothing to assist the rest of the cops inside the building. He opened the door to the stairwell and stepped onto the landing. I waited at the door, holding it open with my shoulder.
First, Jablonsky checked the stairs leading from the upper level. Once he was sure no one was immediately heading down, he focused his attention on the lower level. Muffled gunfire could be heard, but given the acoustics, it was hard to tell from which direction it was coming.
“How many casualties did counterterrorism sustain?” he asked, stepping backward but never letting his eyes stray from the stairs.
“Too many.”
“Parker,” he snapped, cautioning a brief glance at me, “focus. Are you sure you’re up for this?”
“Yeah, I just don’t know. At least three grenades went off before they were subdued. The walls were painted red. I can’t be sure. There were a lot of injuries. We can’t just stand here and do nothing.”
“I agree.” He swallowed. “There are three floors above us. I’ll go see what’s what. You stay here. I’ll be right back.”
A long, interminable wait followed. I wasn’t particularly patient, and these were extraordinary circumstances. My gaze kept snapping from one flight of stairs to the other, unsure of whom or what might be coming from either direction. The sounds of gunfire had died down, which I hoped was a good sign.
Heavy steps sounded, and I edged backward, using the closed door as cover. Four men came down the steps wearing ESU emblazoned body armor. Slowly, I cracked the door open and raised my hands, spotting Mark at the back of the group. He nodded to me, and the five of them stopped on the landing.
“Agent Parker,” the ESU commander said, moving next to me, “the top floors have been cleared. Is this level still secure?”
�
�As far as I know. Tinsley should have the elevator locked up tight,” I responded.
He nodded. “The lifts have been taken out of service.” The radio chirped, and from the message he received, it was apparent that the Shade operatives had broken into the evidence locker and established a stronghold inside. The weapons cache was still live since the firing pins and mechanisms hadn’t been removed prior to the transport. “Any injured?” he asked, somehow ignoring the dire message he’d just received.
“Too many to count.”
He nodded, signaling two of his men to go inside. “Ambos are nearby, but we can’t let anyone inside until the threat has been eliminated.” He turned to Jablonsky. “We could use all the help we can get.”
“Then lead the way,” Mark replied. On our way down the steps, he finished briefing the ESU team on what we knew of the attackers and the types of weaponry at their disposal. “What else was inside the evidence locker?”
“The usual suspects,” the commander replied. We made a brief stop on the next floor, and two ESU team members went to scout the floor. They returned with additional police personnel to assist. “The rest of the tactical unit is working from the ground up. They haven’t made it past the fifth floor. That’s where these assholes have boxed themselves in, but we’ll flush ‘em out.”
After repeating the process a few more times, we emerged through the stairwell door on the fifth floor. The hallway looked like the scene of a drive-by. Another six men were positioned behind a barricade near the door to evidence lockup. We crept behind, and brief introductions were made. On the floor was a blueprint of the room and estimates of where everything was.
More gunfire sounded from a nearby floor, and I spun toward the staircase. The ESU team remained focused on their task, and Jablonsky put a hand on my shoulder.
“Three additional emergency services units have arrived. They’ll secure the other floors,” Jablonsky whispered. “We just have to handle this.”