by Emery Hale
‘Come on. You told me I was your type, and frankly, you’re mine.’
‘Unfortunately, you’re taken.’
‘Shame that. You know I’m only teasing,’ I said, pulling away.
BANG. BANG. SMACK. CRACK.
Both our heads whipped towards the open door before we bolted out in the direction of the sudden gunfire.
The last time I checked, the walls were cream but as we made our way down the corridor, dark red blood was slathered all over them. Directly opposite on the floor lay a limp body, legs contorted like a dead spider.
‘Someone!’ a panicked voice called.
I ran as fast as I could to the open door, but as soon as I set foot in the dressing room one leg nearly went from under me as I slipped on a red smear, my hand sliding down the wall, now coated in warm, thick, sticky blood. The place was a riot: chairs knocked over, mirrors shattered – but then I realised there wasn’t just one dead body, there were two. A tall man dressed in an usher’s uniform lay face down on the floor, a bullet through the back of his head, gooey brain matter clumping in his hair, while an unnecessary anatomy lesson decorated the white walls.
When I glanced at the first body, anxiety thumped in my heart – she was one of the lead actresses, who was meant to be on stage in the next couple of minutes. Shit.
Three girls dressed similarly to me stood shaking in the corner, one with a gun in her hand as she stared at the dead man.
‘Eve?’ I asked the girl with the gun; she was a couple years below us.
Lily leaned down to feel for a pulse, then she looked back to me, shaking her head. Oh, this was just great.
‘Eve, what happened?’
I tried to stay calm, but nerves plucked away in my chest as the seconds ticked by. The reason? Because the opening number had started to play through the speakers and none of us were where we were supposed to be.
‘I-I don’t know,’ Eve stuttered. ‘He came in waving a gun and this.’ She held up something small and compact, but with an antenna sticking out the top.
Lily barged past me and took the thing. Even though her back was turned, I knew it wasn’t good news.
‘It’s a bomb detonator.’ She knelt down next to the man’s body, searching his pockets, but came up empty.
‘A bomb?’ Eve asked. ‘There’s a bomb here?’
‘Obviously here to deliver this – there must be a second one.’
‘Trojan’s here?’ Eve asked, becoming more hysterical by the second.
‘Yeah, and they want us to know about it.’
Hold up, let me get this straight: the show had already started, four of us were meant to be on stage, one of the lead actresses along with a possible terrorist were dead in the dressing room and now there was a bomb in the theatre . . . you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
‘All of you get on stage,’ I ordered. ‘Go!’
Without having to be told again, the three of them ran from the room. But when I turned to Lily, I was greeted with a face full of uncertainty.
‘Trojan were only ten feet away, he must have snuck in after I passed,’ she said, glancing over the two bodies – but as I grabbed another dress from the rail, Lily paused. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m gonna have to go on for her. Get Quinn, tell her what’s happened.’ I tore off my dress, shimmying into the new one before stepping around the pool of blood to get to the door. ‘I need to get to the other side of the stage. Harkness is with Quinn, get him to stop the show.’
‘He’s not going to do that!’
‘Two people are dead, convince him!’
I barrelled down the corridor as fast as I could, down the stairs to stage right before sprinting to the lift at the back. The echoes from the pit reverberated through backstage but for once they didn’t bring me joy, only dread. Harkness had to stop the show, it wasn’t meant to go down like this. No one was supposed to die.
Wind swept from behind as Lily rushed past me to the other side of the stage, but even after a few seconds, the band didn’t stop. What was he thinking? The package drops could happen another night, there were too many innocent lives at risk!
Another set of footsteps came from behind, but this time they were lighter than Lily’s.
‘Jessica.’ The small voice of Grace whispered in my ear, dressed all in black, earpiece in hand.
I took it from her, quickly placing it in my ear.
‘The pit are extending the music and it’s been relayed to the dancers. Sorry about your friend.’
‘Didn’t know her . . . Christ, I’ve got her blood all over me.’ I frantically rubbed my hands together but the blood smeared into a sweaty goop.
‘Fits the character though, right?’ Grace asked as I wiped the blood on my tights.
OK, I didn’t know the woman but she only died a minute ago.
‘Too soon?’
‘Yeah,’ I said, as if it was obvious. ‘If Quinn’s with the stage manager tell her my mic is number nine, she’ll need to turn it up.’
‘OK, we’ll keep you updated.’
‘Quietly though, I can’t concentrate when you yell at each other,’ I said to Grace, and she nodded before running out of sight.
As the instrumental of the opening number climaxed I let out a shaky breath, pulling myself together. I’d always wanted to play this role, but not like this.
Even though I couldn’t see much, I caught sight of Quinn talking into her headset, then to someone beside her, presumably Harkness. He controlled this whole operation, he had to stop the show. Of course we needed the package drops but surely there was a safer way to go about it?
‘Lilith.’ Quinn said, using my codename. ‘Your microphone is set and the volume’s up.’
I was about to reply when the pit roared to life and the lift started to move. I positioned my hands and cocked my hip as the blinding spotlights hit my face – here we fucking go.
* * *
As I walked downstage and let the first notes out of my mouth I knew one thing: this was already going horribly.
‘Alpha team report.’
‘We have control of the first package, we also have control of the auditorium.’
‘Nightingale and Blackbird, do you have eyes on the bomber?’
‘Negative.’
The usual chatter started in my ear so I turned my attention to singing. If I ever left this line of work, I was going to put ‘multi-tasking under intense situations’ on my CV.
With my sultry cover in mind, I gazed out to the first couple of rows, hoping to gain some insight into where the package drops were happening. I wasn’t used to being kept in the dark.
The Alpha team was here, which consisted of five guys in our year including Luca and Kayson – they didn’t choose the team name but if anything, it matched their egos. We rarely worked with this team because if they didn’t get their way, they mimicked a five-year-old throwing a temper tantrum.
I knew Kayson had to be near the front since he’d be helping Lily with the package hand-offs.
But when I saw him sitting two rows back, I also saw the familiar dark hair and bright eyes of Naomi. What the hell was she doing here? She hates the theatre! Sure, I’d asked Kayson to keep her safe, but that didn’t include bringing her into the middle of a fuckin op! He knew bombs didn’t mean an explosion of flowers, right?
‘We have movement from the second row, Ronan is in position to collect the second package,’ Luca said. He must have been somewhere in the audience.
Oh yeah, Kayson was going to receive a package alright, a kick up the ass.
Through it all, however, I continued to sing, containing my emotions whilst restraining myself from yelling Bomb! and undermining this whole operation.
Then Lily’s voice sounded in my ear.
‘Station One, we have eyes on the suspected target.’
‘Do you have control?’
‘Stand by,’ Lily responded.
At that I turned, making my way to the back of the
stage, forcing myself not to make eye contact with anyone. There was tension around me that wasn’t usually there – the dancers constantly asking the silent question What’s going on?
They didn’t know there was a bomber in the theatre, they didn’t know there was a dead man in the dressing room, and the fact I was on the stage instead of the leading lady didn’t help matters.
‘Station One, the bomb is strapped to the target, male, dark hair, dressed in an usher’s uniform. Heading towards the back stairs,’ Grace said.
‘Charlie Nine Nine, secure the perimeter,’ Harkness radioed to the agents in cars outside before he spoke to the ones on bikes. ‘Bravo Five, cover the back entrances. No one leaves the building.’
‘Roger that,’ someone replied.
Well, at least this suicide bomber wouldn’t be able to escape – but that also meant he was stuck here.
As I spun back around, two people were leaving the auditorium – must have been Luca and another member of their team. Come on, Harkness, stop the show.
‘If this goes clean, Executive Action stand by, repeat stand by,’ Quinn’s voice fluttered through.
Suddenly a line prompt broke me from my autopilot, and I remembered what I was meant to be doing – ya know, acting. I replied with a smirk and a hair toss before pushing forward.
My eyes hardened as they landed on Kayson, who squirmed under my glare. Well, at least he was getting the message. Who the hell did he think he was, bringing a civilian to an op? As the thoughts swarmed my brain, I sucked in a breath – if I kept getting lost in my thoughts, I would miss every cue. Get it together.
Everyone huddled around me, striking all kinds of poses while I sang.
‘Blackbird and Nightingale are in pursuit,’ Lily said. ‘Target is heading for the lighting rig.’
‘Is there any way to divert him?’ Quinn asked.
‘Negative, we’ll get him on the rig.’
I didn’t have to be next to Harkness to know he wasn’t happy; his disapproving glower was almost audible.
‘Multiple threats over the west corridor.’ Luca’s panicked voice rang through, but I didn’t let my composure fall – no one could know what was going on behind the scenes. ‘Alpha team has control, but we won’t reach Nightingale or Blackbird in time.’
‘Nightingale, get around to the other side of the lighting rig,’ Quinn said, ‘with one at either side you’ll be able to cut him off. Are you both armed?’
‘Affirmative,’ said Lily.
‘Omega team, finish him,’ Harkness snapped.
‘Roger that.’
I didn’t even have to look to know more of us in the audience were leaving to help control the area, but what surprised me was Kayson darting from his seat. Oh great, bring her into this mess and then just ditch her. I didn’t get a chance to see him go before I was being picked up and carried across the stage – seriously Jess, you have your own job to do!
‘Executive Action, hard stop. I repeat hard stop.’
Hard stop? Did they seriously think arresting the guy was gonna to do anything? Sure, he might have intel but the target worked for Trojan, probably had a cyanide pill under a fake tooth.
As I rolled gracefully back down to the ground, I gazed out at the audience with the same seductive smirk I’d practiced in the mirror a hundred times – and then, I heard it.
CLANG
I opened my mouth wider, trying to sing as loud as I could to cover up the noise, but judging by a few faces in the audience, they heard it as well. A scraping sound slid past my ear and I turned just quick enough to see a gun skidding into the wings. Fuck, that better have been the bomber’s gun.
‘Report,’ Harkness demanded, but only silence answered him.
Thankfully, at that moment I had to spin onto my back, so I’d be able to get a good look at what was going on up there. What I saw, however, was not fully under control – and when I say fully, I mean at all.
The fake usher had Lily in a tight headlock, one of her legs dangling from the silver rig, her face red as she struggled to breathe. Opposite stood Grace, gun raised, but her hands were shaking. My eyes must have been bulging because when the two lads pulled me up from the floor, their expressions shot straight to worry. As I made my way down the stage everyone in the cast started to exchange looks. Great.
Fortunately, the stage was set up so you couldn’t see the rig from the audience, but that wouldn’t matter if Lily plummeted down and cracked her skull open.
‘Ronan, what’s your position?’ Quinn asked.
‘I’m on my way to the lighting rig,’ Kayson replied, his voice breathless, his pounding footsteps mimicking my own heart. ‘ETA one minute.’
If Grace didn’t take the shot and the bomber pressed the detonator we would all go up in smoke; if she took it she could hit Lily. I hated being the decoy – how the hell did Willow do this?
Once again we all huddled together, everyone on edge because now we were stuck as spectators.
‘Nightingale, if you can shoot the target, do it.’
‘I can’t,’ Grace muttered quietly. As soon as she started talking the ensemble and I cranked up the volume – if she needed to speak we were going to do our best to accommodate. ‘I can’t.’
‘Take the shot.’
‘I can’t, if I shoot him they’ll both go down.’
‘I’m ordering you, take the damn shot.’
‘They’ll hear.’
‘If you don’t take the shot they’ll hear a bomb go off and then be incinerated,’ Harkness said, almost barking at her.
‘Nightingale.’ The smooth voice of Quinn spoke. ‘There’s a part in the song with gunshots. You can shoot then.’
‘I’m almost there,’ Kayson told her, but Grace didn’t respond.
That’s when it came, the drum ready to smack down.
‘Now,’ Quinn said hurriedly.
BANG
All of us onstage mimicked the bullet hitting us, as choreographed, but at the same time we all looked up to see what was going on. The man stumbled back, his shoulder falling.
BANG
He fell to his knees and Lily elbowed him in the chest before lunging forward, keeping low.
BANG.
Head shot. The man landed face first in the middle of the lighting rig.
I think I speak for all of us that night in saying everyone one on that stage let out a sigh of relief. Then, just like that, we continued singing the final chorus, which took us to the end of the song.
‘Threat neutralised,’ Grace said softly.
‘Executive Action stand down,’ Quinn said. ‘Wait for further instructions. Bomb Squad rendezvous with Bravo Five, we need you at Station One.’
‘Roger,’ a man said – and just like that, it was over.
Now I felt like I could go on with the rest of the show without stress, even though there would be questions – especially in the reviews, but we could deal with that later. Right now, I just needed to get to the end of this bloody number.
With a deep breath I belted my last three notes, enjoying it while I could before the song snapped to a close.
* * *
When the band stopped and the lights went down, I practically ran off stage and into the wings. I wanted to talk to Quinn, get some insight into how my team were going to carry a dead body from the lighting rig, but she was too busy directing someone through her mic. My attempt at leadership was short-lived as Eve and the majority of the ensemble surrounded me, whispering their desperate questions in my ear. I pushed them away, heading to the back corridor, and motioned for them to follow.
Once we were all crammed into the slim space and the door closed behind us, the hallway erupted into chatter.
‘What happened?’
‘Why the hell was there a body found?’
‘Is she alright?’
I lifted my hand and banged against a door to my right twice to get their attention, then twenty beady eyes centred on me.
‘As the sho
w started a Trojan operative delivered one of the bomb detonators to a dressing room. The operative was taken down but she . . .’ God, I didn’t even know her name. ‘Our fellow agent was fatally wounded.’
Chatter, rumours and gossip fell deathly quiet. Some of the agents in front of me were filled with shock, others with disbelief. Emotions flooded through me, everything I’d seen hitting me like a train. Lily could have fallen from the rig, Grace could have been hurt, we all could have been blown to ashes. My breathing hitched a little as I pushed the thoughts from my mind. The threat had been dealt with, time to move on.
‘Dead?’ a younger girl asked – I didn’t recognised her, but Eve took her hand in comfort.
‘Yes,’ I replied, there was no use in sugar-coating it. Tonight, I wasn’t the Team Lead, but someone had to take charge of this situation. ‘No one anticipated this but the building is secure, as you’ve heard, and the threat has been dealt with.’
My own voice drifted past my ears: this was almost the exact same speech I had given my team after Willow’s death. Was that what my job was? To reiterate the same platitude over and over again but with a different name? A different number? It didn’t seem right.
The sound of the door to the stage opening made me fall quiet in words and thought, as Harkness stood there.
‘Shouldn’t you all be getting ready to go on?’ he asked, his voice even colder than before.
Harkness stood tall, but his head leaned forward expectantly, at me. Even though no one here was due on anytime soon they filed out of the corridor, one after the other. Then he let the door go and, as it swung shut, made his way towards me.
Every ounce of leadership and composure left me as he marched over, grabbed my shoulders and threw me back against the wall.
‘You do not undermine my authority.’ I wished he’d yelled but he didn’t; his voice was something feral, primal. ‘You do not tell me what to do. I am your superior officer, Winters.’
‘One of our agents was murdered and there was a bomb – the safest solution was to stop the show. Claim there was a technical fault,’ I tried, but it was pitiful.
He was right. I shouldn’t be questioning orders when it came to things like this; he had more experience than I ever could.
‘That threat was neutralised within the first song. Plans change. The package drops tonight are more important than you, Winters. We need this information. You should learn that agents are easily replaced.’