The Darkest Hour

by Louis Scott

  “I got Kymani and Chu following Bonny. Lawless is heading to my condo to rummage through Bonny’s stuff. Maybe find something about the ship. Why don’t you get some sleep? We’ve got about three hours until Carvaka is going to reach out with our next assignment.” Krystal’s body slumped onto the king-sized bed.

  He held her close.

  The events of the last seventy-two hours threatened to cause a fissure in his constitution, but still, he desired her touch more than his peace.

  “Krystal, thank you.” Eyes closed, he kissed her. His hands loosened their snug clutch around her waist. His mouth turned soft and the kiss very light. Pike was finally asleep.

  Their series of alarms clanged and rang. They both jerked out of bed reaching for their weapons before realizing it was their cellphones. Pike split his eyelid to challenge the early morning sun. He rubbed his shaggy, sun-kissed mane and pressed palms against his aching eyes. He felt around until his touch met hers. “Just the wakeup call,” he said. “Good morning.”

  “Morning, hero. Happy Fat Tuesday.” Voodoo whispered through a dry mouth and genuine smile—not the romantic image he’d hoped for. Of course, this hadn’t been a series of 007 episodes either.

  “Alex messaged. They’re working with the Coast Guard to check the river for anything suspicious. Bonny said she was going to meet them, so it’s either a smaller vessel or the Avaslavian vessel that will dock. Not like she’s going to jump from the pier. Though, with that bod…” Pike clamped his lips shut as Voodoo’s ice-green peepers fired darts toward him.

  “Lawless also messaged.” She tilted her chin to allow her sexy tresses to swing back across her cheek, and lifted the corner of her lip. “Bonny’s in room eight twenty-three—alone. Lawless went through her junk at the condo and found nothing but a diary written in some eastern European language. Task Force is having it scanned and submitted to his FORCE contact for translation. Other than that, empty,” Voodoo said.

  “Alex also said they’ve evaluated the entire parade route, estimated the max effective range of five hundred and fifty yards, considered the elevation for the spotter to call the target and the shooter to establish a line of fire. Thanks to a relatively flat Big Easy, there aren’t many buildings that make for optimum shooting platforms. She’s sending the list now.”

  “Why five hundred and fifty yards?”

  “Because two hundred yards is dead,” he smirked, imitating the man's fall from the fire escape.

  Voodoo disappeared from the bedroom and he heard the shower turn on. He knew they had to hurry because there were locations to be checked before the parade began to roll.

  “We’re gonna be late to our own assassination.” He called out.

  “I’m hurrying, but what does a girl wear to kill someone at the Mardi Gras?” She laughed while stepping out of the bathroom. Even in casual civilian clothes, she was stunning.

  “Looks good to me.”

  “My phone’s been going crazy with texts.” Voodoo smiled.

  Pike hadn’t known many people able to keep their calm under the pressure of working shadow operations. She was ultra-cool.

  “It’s my phone,” Pike said. “Bingo. U.S. Customs Air Wing spotted a potential nest atop a three-story building at Lee Circle. Is that a high potential?”

  “Dang, that’s a perfect spot—high perch, long observation alley and unobstructed view.” Voodoo quivered with excitement. “What about the other spots Alex identified?”

  “Air Wing is checking but made the pass without authorization. They’re hitting the others, then gotta head out to the river’s mouth to scout traffic,” Pike said.

  “I say we go for the Circle,” Voodoo suggested.

  “Tell Kymani and Chu to take out Bonny first and then we’ll all head to secure the locations. How long can it take to check them out after all?”

  “It’s Mardi Gras day. Are you serious?” Voodoo's brow wrinkled.

  “I’ll go with your lead then.” His shoulders shrugged.

  “Smart man. Lawless messaged me—said Chu and Kymani are back at the warehouse waiting instructions.” Her face pinched tight. She knew his next question.

  [Why did they leave Bonny?] She texted Lawless back.

  [Ordered to.] Lawless replied.

  [By who?]

  [Fats. Said relieve them. Needed back at warehouse.]

  [Have them clear building next to Hotel Mod in Lee Circle. Possible sniper nest.]

  “I’m so sorry. Fats is deeper in this than directing traffic.” Voodoo broke the news as she rubbed his bicep and looked to console him.

  “My fault. He’s my friend. Was my friend. Time to put an end to this adventure.” Pike rubbed her shoulders. “Ready to make a difference?” he asked.

  “Let’s roll,” she replied.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Must be room service.” Pike quipped at the knock at their hotel room door.

  “It’s Cranston,” Voodoo said while peering through the peephole.

  Voodoo unhinged the security clasp, yanked the hotel room door open and Cranston Stone’s below-the-jaw punch lifted her off of her feet. She crumpled. The rickety homegrown terrorist had his weapon drawn before Pike could even consider touching his.

  Cranston sandpapered his grimy chin with calloused palms. He smelled of brackish swamp water and creosote.

  “I’ll make this simple, hero. Get your butt to the location, and if JW Colt finishes this parade as Rex—she dies.” Cranston pointed his weapon at Voodoo.

  “Just hold on.” Pike started toward him.

  “You took off Team Alpha’s shooter last night, and figured out where Team Bravo would be. They’ll be easy enough to kill.”

  “You’re murdering your own hit squads?” Pike asked.

  “The others never mattered—it was you we wanted.” Cranston waived the gun around.

  Pike knelt over Voodoo. He lifted her back into the room and set her on the bed.

  “How’d you know I’d answer the ad? Hell for that matter, how’d you know I was in New Orleans?”

  “Rougarou knows all. He knew the undercover girl would answer the ad, so we made it co-ed teams. You’re a freaking hero, you had to volunteer. Ain’t no self-deprecating hero gonna let a woman go in alone. You’re typical—Dudley do right, no matter the consequences.” Cranston snickered through rotten teeth.

  Pike realized his identity had been listed in the Serpent’s database after all.

  “Then you know I’ll also do the right thing and kill you.” He glared at Cranston who leapt back. He’d not fall for another smash beneath the chin.

  “Whatever. Just handcuff this whore and move out.” Cranston demanded. “Call anybody you want, but she dies a horrible death if JW Colt arrives alive. Vladimir’s torture of your sexy boss, Alex Vaughn, will seem like a prom date compared to what I’m prepared to do to Krystal Laveau.”

  “What makes you think I’ll shoot Colt?”

  “Dishonor.”

  “Sometimes that’s not enough reason to kill.” Pike countered.

  “He’s driven your family into WitSec, you owe him for ruining their lives, don’t you?”

  Primal rage shot through Pike. His shoulders quivered. His family’s image flashed before his eyes. Once so proud of him, they now snuck across the country as exiles.

  He knew what had to be done. Pike kissed Voodoo’s head and walked out.

  “Alex.” Pike’s voice broke with exhaustion as he sprinted through bunches of unaware bodies to reach his stashed go-bag before mounting atop the hotel.

  “Pike, we’re touching down now. FORCE is going tactical and meeting with the local Task Force to intercept the other sniper team. Looks like the good guys win.” Her voice pressed over the copter’s rotor wash.

  “Rougarou’s crew got Voodoo. They’ll torture her to death unless I assassinate Colt. I’ve got no choice—her over the traitor.”

  “You can’t kill him, Dwight. Think of the panic it’ll create. Can’t we notify
Colt and cancel the parade?”

  “Alex, they’ve got me by the balls. Save the man I hate and lose the woman I love—I can’t make that choice.” He stopped running. He repeated what he’d just said. The words resounded as natural as the first time he'd said it.

  “You love her?” Alex asked.

  “Yes I do. I’d do anything for her, Alex—even murder JW Colt.”

  “Dwight, you’ve got time before Colt’s float gets to you. Think this through—we’re about to go black. I’ll reach you through comms once Team Bravo is secured and debriefed.”

  “You better hurry. Cranston said they were going to kill off the Bravo Team because they wanted me to take the shot.”

  Alex radioed back, “Understood, but we’ll check them anyway.”

  The local Task Force and FORCE agents combined personnel and were ready to eliminate threats. Agent Chu was the operations coordinator as the team arrived in Lee Circle.

  “King’s float is a few miles out. We’ve got four stories of mixed-use units facing Lee Circle. Each has to be breached and cleared. Seems they’ve changed their nest away from the roof once Air Wing was spotted hovering,” Chu instructed. “Kymani, it’s your show until the All Clear is called.”

  “Logic says skip first two floors—no optics or elevation,” Kymani instructed his team. “Male/female targets. Both trained in long and handguns. We work as one unit, understand?” His Caribbean accent ebbed and flowed as he emphasized key points.

  “Sir, there’s no time—we gotta split into two-man elements,” Jim Graham of FORCE argued. Ellie, his wife and partner nodded.

  “Too dangerous. This is Mardi Gras and Lee Circle is a risky location for encountering innocents doing stupid things thanks to the carnival. We work together.”

  “His city, his show.” Alex winked at Jonas and nodded to Kymani. “Let’s roll.”

  Chu led the unit up the fire escape to the third floor.

  “Control to tact unit. King Rex’s float is seven blocks out.”

  “Why start on the third?” Bucky Colomb asked.

  “Four is too obvious. Anyone trying to avoid detection would know the first place cops would look was rooftop,” Chu said.

  He signaled Kymani to breach the hallway door. It opened without sound. The team flowed into the empty tiled hallway. Lawless was on point as they arrived at the first door on the left. He gripped it with a gloved hand—locked. Lawless moved to the other side of the door and trained his submachine gun further down the hall to cover the tactical unit. Chu moved up and mule kicked the door—it exploded open.

  “Moving,” Alex called as she disappeared into the first apartment.

  “Clear.” Jonas signaled as he and the other two exited behind the other unit members.

  “Control to tact unit. King Rex’s float is five blocks out.”

  Lawless crouched and cat-walked on the balls of his boots to level the weapon parallel. He bypassed the doors on the right side of the long hall since they had no sight access to Lee Circle.

  “Approaching.” Lawless whispered and crossed past the door to once again cover down the hall.

  Colomb moved to the threshold, squeezed the knob. Locked. He pressed his back against the door and blasted it open with his own powerful mule kick.

  “Moving,” Ellie snapped. She was followed by Jim and Chu.

  “Clear.”

  “Coming out,” Jim informed as all three re-emerged. Kymani watched and covered rear guard to prevent blind ambushes.

  Lawless restarted the train down the hall and signaled to stop with his left hand over his ballistic helmet. The door handle on the next apartment jiggled. Two young girls backed out of the fourth apartment on the right side. Their eyes popped wide open, but Lawless pressed a finger to his lips and smiled for them to hush. He waved his hand and they hurried back inside their apartment unit.

  “Looking like a dead end, team,” Jim complained.

  “Control to tact unit. King Rex’s float is three blocks out.”

  Lawless ignored him and waved the team forward to the third door on the left-hand side. He slowed his approach and bobbed his head while he pointed to the door with a thumb up. He passed across the threshold and spun around, and then faced everyone’s bright-eyed expressions of curiosity.

  Lawless pointed down. Roof tar spackle tracked near the threshold signaled it might be the snipers. Alex smiled and nodded. She signaled with her free hand to instruct the entire unit what their areas of responsibility would be once they made entry.

  “Control to tact unit. King Rex’s float is one block out.”

  Kymani squeezed the agent in front of him on the shoulder to signal he was ready. Colomb nodded and then placed his hand on Ellie’s shoulder and squeezed. She nodded. This notification process repeated itself until Jonas squeezed Alex’s own shoulder. She nodded. Her eyes told Lawless it was time.

  Lawless eased his six-foot-five, bad to the bone, rock-n-roll body against the door. He sucked in a gulp of air, and reared his size fourteen boot up with a high knee lift. His thigh exploded downward in a violent arc until his rubberized sole struck the metal exterior door.

  Four rounds from an AK47 burned through the door like melted butter. Lawless fell away from the fatal funnel. Blood spurted across the opening and covered Alex and Jonas. Lawless grimaced and waved them on.

  Alex had already positioned her body at a forty-five degree slant to quicken the approach through the door. She flashed in the threshold and moved left to right, muzzle leveled, finger pressed against the trigger. Jonas slipped a buttonhook and hugged the left wall. The former Delta Force operator snapped off two rounds to the shooter’s body and one to his head before the AK47’s trigger could zip another deadly shot.

  “Move,” Jonas’s voice all business, beckoned. Chu and Ellie covered each other as they moved from left to center of the apartment’s living room. They trained their weapons in opposite directions, “Clear. Move.”

  Kymani and Jim flowed past Jonas and Chu and Ellie until they positioned themselves outside a closed bedroom door—locked.

  “Control to tact unit. King Rex’s float is in sight.”

  Colomb quickstepped until his boot splintered the hollow-core door.

  “Bang,” warned Kymani.

  He pulled the pin and flung a Def-Tec #25 flashbang into the room. Shots rang out—holes appeared in the walls. Small arms fire.

  Less than two seconds expired before the distraction device deployed into almost two and a half million candlepower and about one hundred seventy-five deafening decibels. Enough power to flat scare the crap out of some but incapacitate others. It overwhelmed the sniper’s senses and allowed the unit additional seconds to enter the room to apprehend her.

  “Control to tact unit. King Rex’s float has passed.”

  “Tact to Control, dispatch air-med life flight immediately, “Alex beckoned. “One suspect down and one lucky witch in custody. Meet evac on roof. Officer down.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Control to Sniper 1. King Rex float is about twenty blocks out.”

  “10-4, Control.” Pike reluctantly confirmed the FORCE Control Center’s surveillance information. Satellite techs back in Washington D.C.’s FORCE HQ had established eyes on the target float. They would deliver the countdown to Pike’s most difficult ethical decision ever.

  Hunched over, his go-bag’s weight crunching against his spine, Pike stood in the ally beside the Hotel de L’Eau Vive. Left exhausted after his frantic scramble through packed sidewalks, he cursed at the roof’s fire escape access just beyond his reach.

  “I ain’t afraid, mister,” said a young hulking man. His face looked familiar, but the smile was misplaced.

  “Not now.” Pike dreaded the potential for having to fend off a mugger, but there wasn’t time to waste. He’d drop him fast and violent.

  “Let me help you up there.” Huge hands extended as the sun beat off the man's baldhead. He walked toward Pike with a gimp limp. And then
it hit him—hearts and minds.

  “Son, I got no time and no more cash.” Pike held his right fist in a rigid knife-hand position in case the guy tried to rob him.

  “I help you.” He reached up to jerk the rusted ladder down to street level.

  “Thank you. You’re very brave my friend.” Pike smiled, and then shuffled up the access.

  Pike rested the Remington 700 rifle along the hotel’s rooftop. It balanced perfectly between the Kevlar reinforced stock and the bipod he’d attached at the front of the barrel. He dialed in the Leupold shooting scope for elevation and windage. A single round of .308 Winchester was chambered. He slammed the bolt closed. His index finger traced the edge of the trigger mechanism to ensure the weapon was on safe.

  “Control to Sniper 1. King Rex float is about fifteen blocks out.”

  “10-4, Control.” Pike’s reply sounded empty.

  He lay prone across the black tar rooftop. His right eye eased less than an inch from the scope’s optics until he found the sweet spot in its crosshairs. Krystal’s image shrieked in his mind.

  Pike remembered the details of how Alex was tortured over nineteen days while held captive in Avaslavia. The thought of Krystal going through the same torture at Cranston Stone’s hands caused him to tremble. His body shuddered so violently, he almost rocked off the rooftop. Sweat crawled through his hair. It trailed to his forehead and hung over his brow and eyes. This wouldn't do. He couldn’t afford to blink after JW Colt entered the hot zone.

  “Control to Sniper 1. King Rex float is about ten blocks out.”

  “Okay, Control.” His mind was spent—he couldn’t even consider the consequences for his action or inaction.