by Mike Ryan
Porter wasn’t ready to give up yet and was going to continue trying to revive the man. Her efforts were short-lived, however, when she heard a rattling by the front door. Someone was there. And they were trying to come in. Porter propped the man’s upper body up in front of her as she quickly reached for her gun again.
A few seconds later the front door came crashing open, several men entering the apartment. They quickly identified Porter and started firing at her, though she used the unconscious man’s body as a shield. Worrying about her own survival, she didn’t have time to feel bad about the unconscious man now being dead from all the bullet holes that were filling up his back.
Porter fired back at the men, dropping one of them to their hands and knees as a shot ripped into the man’s knee. The others remained close to the door, not wanting to move in any closer without some better cover along the way, which there really wasn’t. If they moved in closer, they’d put themselves in harm’s way, giving Porter a clear shot at them, and considering her reputation, they assumed she wouldn’t miss.
Porter knew she was in a bad situation and had to quickly figure out how she was getting out of there. Going through the front door was likely not an option. There were at least three guys there that she counted, maybe more, and possibly even more than that on the way. She fired a few more rounds at the men to give herself a few seconds of breathing room as she figured out an exit strategy.
Considering they were on the third floor and the entrance was blocked, that left only one other possibility: the balcony. Each unit had their own small, private balcony. It wasn’t much, and it wasn’t big. It was barely big enough to fit a small table and a couple of chairs, and even that was pushing it. There was a black metal railing that went around the edge of it. One of the issues she was facing, though, was the sliding glass door that led to the balcony. It was closed, and she was going to either have to stand there stationary for a minute as she tried to open it, making herself a huge target, or she was going to have to crash through it. Neither was a particularly appealing option.
Porter was going to have to make that work. Plus, she couldn’t engage in a shootout all day; she didn’t have the ammunition for it. She figured she had about eight shots left in her own gun, plus whatever was in the weapon from the man she used as a shield. If she was going to make a move, she had to do it now.
Porter jumped up to her feet, letting the man she was using as a shield slump down to the ground. She sprinted over to the glass door. Just before she reached it, the men at the door showed themselves and started firing at her again. All the bullets missed, and some of them ripped through the glass door, pieces of the glass falling to the floor.
As Porter got to the door, with the amount of fire she was taking on, she knew she didn’t have time to stand there and fumble around with the door. She ran full speed ahead to the weakened door, crashing right through it, glass shattering everywhere, including on top of Porter as she rolled around on the balcony. Even as several pieces of glass were falling on her face, giving her a few minor cuts, she lay flat on her stomach, holding her gun out to the side and firing back at the men by the door.
Porter ripped off four more rounds as she got back to her knees, ignoring the sharp pain she was feeling from the cuts on her face. With the second reprieve she got from the men taking cover, she jumped up on top of the railing and leaped to the balcony next door. She successfully reached the balcony, although her chest slammed right into the bottom of the concrete, causing her to wince in pain, but she kept a firm grip on the metal railing. Knowing she already had taken up too much time and hadn’t gotten over the railing yet, she spun around to face the balcony she just left, waiting for one of the men to appear in her sight line.
With one hand on the balcony railing, she kept her gun straight out in front of her as she twisted in the wind, waiting for a target. A few seconds later she got it. One of the men quickly went through the door, not at all expecting Porter to just be hanging on the railing and waiting for them. As soon as she got a good shot, she let loose, dropping the man instantly. That did what Porter wanted, which was to make the others back up a bit, not knowing if Porter was just waiting for them to go through the door as well.
Porter couldn’t wait for that, though. She immediately twisted herself back around, grabbing the railing with both hands and pulling herself up. Breathing heavily, she looked up and down, trying to figure out the best way to escape. She couldn’t just go through the apartment she was now at, since that would still put her on the same floor as her attackers. She either had to go up or down. As Porter leaned over the railing and looked at the ground, she thought about just dropping down to the grass. She thought she could make it. Her only other option was to continue climbing, going from balcony to balcony, until she reached the roof. But she’d still have to come down at some point. She also looked down at how far away she was from the balcony underneath her.
As she was making a decision, Porter looked over just in time to see another man poking his head out the door. She fired two more rounds, neither hitting the man, but doing what she wanted, which was getting him out of the way. But now she was out of bullets. She tossed it down to the ground as she made her move. She put her legs over the railing and slid down, holding on with both hands as her legs dangled in the air. She had to make a move before the men appeared again. She took one last look down before letting go of the railing.
Porter dropped down, just barely grabbing the railing of the second-floor balcony with the tips of her fingers, her chest and midsection slamming into the concrete again. She let out a slight moan, then quickly let go again so she could drop down to the ground below. Just as the heels of her feet touched the ground, her legs gave out, and she slammed down hard on her tailbone, causing her to grunt in pain.
She lay on the ground for a few seconds, just staring up at the sky as she tried to catch her breath. Almost immediately, Porter saw the outline of a man on the third-floor balcony pointing a gun down at her. She immediately rolled out of the way, just in time, as a bullet penetrated the ground, right in the spot that she had just occupied. She got to a knee, looked around quickly to make sure no one else was coming for her, then sprinted to the side of the building.
Porter knew she couldn’t just keep running from the men. She needed an extra edge. Something that could give her a boost. Jeso’s backpack of money could do that. She couldn’t afford to leave that behind. As much as she wanted to just leave the area as quickly as possible, she had to take a few extra minutes to get that bag.
Porter ran past the side of the building to where Jeso’s car was parked. She checked to see if the doors were left unlocked, but they weren’t. She then took a peek through the windows to see if the bag was on one of the seats or floor, even though she knew it was unlikely. Porter then scurried around to the back of the car and removed the new gun she pilfered from the man in the apartment a few minutes before that. She pointed the gun at the lock and blew a hole right through it, opening the trunk. She immediately saw the backpack and took it out, slinging it over her shoulder.
Knowing the rest of the men were going to be on her tail in no time, Porter ran to the back of the complex and just kept going. She knew she was going to have to duck out of sight somewhere, as they were going to come looking for her, so she couldn’t just stay in plain view. She went through a patch of grass and some trees before coming to a road that didn’t seem to have much traffic on it. Porter crossed the road, then came across what seemed like a bunch of houses lined across the street. The structures looked like square or rectangular boxes that were made of metal. They were almost touching each other, but Porter was just barely able to squeeze between them as she made her way beyond them.
Porter didn’t really care where she wound up. The farther the better, as far as she was concerned. If she didn’t know where she was going, the people following her wouldn’t either. And that was all that mattered at the moment. She kept looking back, stopping every few minu
tes to make sure no one was on her trail. With nobody near, Porter finally took a few minutes to relax and catch her breath, kneeling by a small building that she still wasn’t sure what it was. She thought she was just in a poor residential area, judging by the quality of the houses, and seeing a few people walking around and hanging clothes on a line.
She finally put the backpack down and opened it, seeing a bunch of money inside. There was also a small handgun that Porter checked, which was loaded. She checked the rest of the contents of the bag, but there was nothing else other than the money and gun. There wasn’t even any ammunition for it. Porter strongly suspected that it was never even fired.
After resting for about five minutes, Porter got back to her feet and started walking. The adrenaline rush started wearing off and she finally started feeling the pain from some of her injuries. Her lower back hurt from landing on her tailbone, her face felt like it was burning from some of the cuts from the glass falling on it, and her shoulder was feeling sore and stiff. She was glad she didn’t have a mirror to check what she looked like, because she was sure she looked like a pathetic sight.
At least it was getting dark out now, Porter thought. The darker it was, the better. Easier to blend in that way and stay invisible. Sadness started setting in once more as she thought of Jeso again. Losing him, along with Khayone and Boka, all of whom lost their lives just because of their willingness to try to help her, was a devastating blow to have to accept. She made a vow to herself right then and there that nobody else was going to die because of her. At least no one that didn’t deserve it.
Though Porter had escaped again, it didn’t feel like much of a victory. She was going to have to figure out a way to get out from under all this. She knew she probably only had so many escape plans left within her. Eventually they were going to corner her in such a way that she couldn’t get out of it. It was inevitable. But for now, she had escaped. Again. She had survived to see another day. She lived to fight another day. And of that, she was as sure as anything: there would be another fight.
11
Stephenson finally removed his hand from his mouth as he surveyed the damage as it was laid out on the screen. Myers was on the phone with one of the agents involved at Jeso’s apartment. After a few minutes, Myers hung up, then came walking over to Stephenson, shaking his head at the turn of events. Stephenson’s face was already getting red, and he looked like he was about to boil over. He could tell that his lieutenant didn’t have good news for him. Stephenson glared at him as he walked toward him, bracing himself for whatever bad news he had to divulge.
“Well?” Stephenson said.
“It’s a complete cluster—”
“Is Porter dead?”
Myers shook his head, an agonized look on his face. “No. She slipped away.”
“Damn!” Stephenson said, slapping at his thighs. “Why the hell is it so hard to kill her?!”
Myers almost hated to tell him the rest of it, knowing he was close to flying off the deep end. “The news gets worse.”
“Worse? How could it get worse? What’s worse than her getting away?”
“We lost two more agents. She killed both of them in the Jordaan apartment.”
It took every ounce of strength that Stephenson could muster to not go ballistic right there in front of everyone. As a rule, while in the situation room when everyone else was around, he tried to maintain an even demeanor, and not get too high or too low over any piece of news. Other people relied on him to make the final decision on hard topics, and he never wanted to appear like he was not in control of his emotions when he made those decisions. But this whole situation was about to make him seriously blow his top.
Stephenson cleared his throat and turned around for a second, but quickly returned to his previous spot. He was attempting to clear his thoughts before he misspoke. After he successfully blocked himself from getting too angry, he then asked for additional details.
“What exactly is the damage?”
“It’s a mess,” Myers said, clearly frustrated himself. “The entire apartment was shot to pieces. Looks like a hurricane went through there, there’s stuff everywhere.”
“And our agents?”
Myers sighed again, hating having to be the one to relay everything. “They barely got out of there before the police arrived. We’re talking, like, minutes.”
“So the local police have control of the scene now?”
“They do.”
“And Porter? Where do they stand on her?” Stephenson asked.
Myers threw his arms up, not having a clue. “They don’t. They did everything they could to get out of there without a police entanglement. They have no idea where Porter went.”
Stephenson let out a deep sigh, thinking this could not have gone any worse. He wanted to just blow up, but was able to contain himself. “What the hell is going on here? How could we have bungled this thing so badly?”
“I don’t know,” Myers said, rubbing his head.
“I don’t understand how this could have gone so horribly wrong.”
Stephenson thought back to just a few hours earlier, to the moments after the agents had killed Jeso, and they devised the plan.
“They were supposed to sit on that apartment for the rest of the night in case Porter showed up,” Stephenson said. “Once she did, they were given clear instructions to give her a few minutes and make sure she was inside that apartment, then go up there and choke her off. We had five agents there. Five top-notch agents against one. And somehow, someway, we bungled it in epic fashion. I just don’t understand. This was not supposed to happen.”
“There’s even more to it.”
Stephenson laughed, though there was obviously nothing funny. It was one of those frustration laughs where he wondered how much more bad news he could handle.
“What?”
“The agents heard a shot after Porter had gotten away, so they went around the building to investigate,” Myers said.
“And?”
“They noticed the trunk of Jordaan’s car was open. Apparently, Porter must’ve shot the lock off to open it.”
“What was inside?”
Myers shrugged. “Nothing. Well, nothing when our guys checked it out. Obviously something was there, but it was clean when we looked.”
“What could have been in there?” Stephenson asked.
“I don’t know.”
“It had to be something very important. Something that was extremely valuable. What could it have been? She’s on the run, a bunch of people on her tail, and she stops for a minute to go through a trunk and remove something before she goes? That’s risky.”
“It had to be something she thought she couldn’t do without.”
“But what?”
“Guns, maybe?”
“Eh,” Stephenson replied, tilting his head, not believing that to be the case. “Jordaan was a doctor. I highly doubt he’s carrying around a cache full of weapons in his trunk.”
“Could be medical supplies. We already know she’s been shot and hurting. If they winged her again, she might have known he carried supplies in his trunk.”
“Yeah, maybe. Maybe.”
“Or maybe he had papers to help her get out of the country. Passports, visas, licenses.”
“If he had those types of documents, he would have already gotten out of the country himself.”
“Maybe he was carrying them for her,” Myers said.
“He’s a doctor. I don’t believe he’s the type of guy who’d be smuggling people in and out of the country. Plus, they didn’t pick up anything when they interrogated him, right?”
“No, all he said was that he treated her injuries at that other building. Never did acknowledge any other involvement with her or admit to having plans on meeting up with her again at any point.”
“Well, we already know that he was lying there,” Stephenson replied. “Unless Porter showed up accidently, or he really didn’t know she was coming, I think we ca
n say he was covering up.”
“Or maybe they were supposed to meet somewhere, and when Jordaan didn’t show, Porter got worried and went to his apartment.”
“Very possible. And her knowing the address of his apartment suggests at the very least that they had plans to meet again.”
“What now?” Myers asked.
“Keep on doing what we have been. Get the satellites up. Let’s get cracking on the ground again. Let’s go to work.”
“You know, I just got a thought. What if Jordaan had a bag of money that Porter knew about? So far she’s just been on the run, trying to stay ahead of us. What if he had enough money where she could start going on the offensive herself?”
“Let’s hope not,” Stephenson said. “Her having enough money to acquire whatever weapons and equipment she wants in order to do whatever she wants is a terrifying thought. But one thing remains clear: she is a danger, and we need to get her out of the way as quickly as possible to resume our normal activities.”
A few minutes later, an assistant came into the room and tapped Stephenson on the shoulder.
“Director Lennick would like to see you, sir.”
“Tell the director I’m busy,” Stephenson said. “I’ll be with him when I’m free.”
“He said to tell you now, sir. He said he didn’t care about the circumstances.”
Stephenson gulped, knowing he was likely about to hear an earful from his superior. “I’ll be right there.”
Stephenson gave Myers a few last-minute instructions before departing for his meeting, wanting to be notified immediately if any news broke while he was out of the room. It was a ten-minute walk to Director Lennick’s office, which was located on the top floor. The entire way there, Stephenson knew what the topic was going to be about. It was going to be Porter. He knew Lennick was going to admonish him about how he’d handled it so far, wondering why the situation hadn’t been rectified yet.
Upon entering Director Lennick’s office, the secretary buzzed him to let him know that Stephenson had arrived. A scowl developed across Stephenson’s face, clearly unhappy to be there. Especially considering the likely topic.