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Angela glanced at her watch and looked at the three people ahead of her in line, stifling a sigh. She would be late back to her office. When she’d decided to have a salad for lunch, she’d thought she would have plenty of time to run out to her favorite salad place. Unfortunately, she didn't take into account that it was lunch time on a Friday, in spring. Everyone else had had the same idea.
The door opened and more diners came in. She looked back at the line extending behind her and thanked the stars she'd arrived when she did. She only had three people in front of her, but there were at least ten behind her now. She would have been here all day.
Turning her attention forward, Angela swallowed another sigh and pulled out her phone. She swiped the screen, bending her head to begin scrolling through her social media app while she waited. Halfway through scrolling, sandwiched between a cat video and an ad for luggage, a news headline from Cherry Hill Township caught her eye.
Bizarre accident results in four fatalities
Angela tapped the link, opening the article. It was short, without a lot of information. Two vehicles were involved in what appeared to be a shooting, with one ending up on the front lawn of a residential home. The incident had occurred on Wednesday afternoon while the residents of the neighborhood were at work. The drivers and passengers of both vehicles were dead. A third set of tire tracks indicated a witness, and police were asking for anyone with any information to come forward.
Angela shook her head, closing the article and returning to her news feed. The world was going crazy. First John's funeral, now this. It was getting so that it wasn't safe to go anywhere anymore. Everywhere you went, people were shooting other people. Of course, John's funeral wasn't a random incident. She pressed her lips together, her mood souring. That was a result of whatever Alina was involved in.
She had gone to her house last night for answers, and had come away without any. If Alina thought for one minute that she was just going to forget the whole thing, she was in for a surprise. Everyone knew what was going on except her, and that was unacceptable. Alina may be trying to protect her, whatever that meant, but Angela had a right to know why she had stitches in her shoulder and neck, and why Stephanie was hobbling around on a cane. They had been caught in the crossfire, literally, and it was only fair that she knew what kind of mess she'd been dragged into.
Angela moved forward as the woman in front of her stepped up to the case to give her order. It was obvious that Lina worked for some kind of agency. It wasn't the FBI, and she was pretty sure it wasn't the Secret Service. Her bet was that she worked at Homeland Security with Damon. In fact, Angela was convinced of it. It explained how they knew each other, why they kept getting involved with Stephanie's cases, and why Alina always seemed to have a gun on her. The only thing that was still a mystery was why it was such a big secret. She knew Damon worked for DHS. Why didn't Alina want her to know that she did as well? Where was the danger? It's not like anyone was going to come after her.
As soon as the thought entered her mind, Angela inwardly winced. She supposed that wasn't necessarily true. She had been targeted by an insane serial killer last week. However, that had nothing to do with anything, and certainly had no connection to John and the upheaval his final goodbye had caused.
No, she was going to corner Alina again, and this time she wasn't leaving without the truth. It was only fair, after all. She hated being the only one out of the loop, and Lina knew that. She'd always hated being the last one to know anything, even growing up. Alina had to know she was going to have to fess up to her eventually, and that ambiguous 'eventually' was now.
The guy behind the counter looked at her and Angela stepped forward to give her order. Finally! She just might make it back to work in time after all.
The man stood in line with the lunch hour rush of health-conscious dieters and watched the woman ahead of him. Her honey-colored hair was pulled off her face in a loose ponytail and designer sunglasses perched on top of her head. A Gucci tote hung over her shoulder, and she had her phone in her hand, her head bent as she scrolled through whatever was on the screen. She was completely oblivious to her surroundings.
He wasn't surprised. He'd been watching her for two days now. When he'd begun, he hadn't known what to expect. All he’d been told was to observe, report and stay out of sight. He'd come into this expecting someone completely different from the target ahead of him. This woman was pretty, fashionable and, from all appearances, completely unconnected to anything in his world. Her friend, on the other hand, was an FBI agent. Now that was more like what he'd been expecting, not this sociable banker who seemed more interested in the latest fashions than current events.
The line moved forward and he moved with it, shifting his gaze to the phone in her hand. He couldn't quite make out the screen, but it looked like a social media feed. Why on earth this woman was a target was beyond him, but he wasn't the boss. He raised his eyes again to her profile. If nothing else, at least she would be an easy hit. Shame. She was really quite beautiful.
The man glanced at his watch and shifted his weight to his other foot. Admittedly, he hadn't received instructions yet. Right now, it was observe and report only, but he knew that would change.
It always did.
Stephanie glanced at her watch as she stepped out of the elevator into the parking garage, her keys in her hand. It was already past one-thirty. She had wanted to get out of the office by noon, but one email led to another and, before she knew it, Rob was making shooing motions from the door of his office. A smile pulled at her lips as she walked into the underground lot. Rob was worse than a mother hen these days. The smile faded. Understandable, she supposed. After all, he’d lost one of his agents unexpectedly last week, only to have another shot at his funeral.
Stephanie was actually relieved to be shooed out of the office. It was hard sitting at her computer and looking over at the bare surface of what used to be John's desk. It looked so empty now, devoid of all his clutter and empty coffee cups. Sometimes, when she glanced over, Stephanie could picture him leaning back in the chair, twirling his pen while he studied something on the monitor. His blonde hair would be ruffled from where he pulled at it when he was thinking, and his cell phone would be next to the keyboard where he could grab it easily. A wave of sorrow washed over her and Stephanie felt her throat tighten as tears threatened behind her eyes.
God, would it ever get easier?
Blake had been given an empty desk on the other side of the floor to work from while he was here. Rob had offered him John's old desk, but after taking one look at Stephanie's face, Blake declined. She was grateful for that, even though it meant walking across the building when she had to look at something with him.
She had stopped at his temporary desk on her way out. He was engrossed in a phone call with one of his team in DC, so she simply waved and began to move toward the elevators. He reached out and grabbed her wrist as she passed, and when she turned to look, he mouthed “See you tonight.” She didn't know why that simple gesture made her so happy, but it did. It had filled her with a feeling of warmth and contentment that followed her down the elevator and into the parking garage.
The feeling returned, replacing the sudden surge of sorrow, and Stephanie took a deep breath, crossing the parking lot to where her Mustang was parked two rows over. He had mentioned last night how well they worked together and jokingly said she should move to Washington, DC. It was out of the question, of course, and he'd been joking at the time. Nonetheless, she admitted to herself that she would be very sad to see him and Buddy go back to the capital.
Her heels echoed on the cement, interspersed with a barely audible thud from the rubber bottom of her cane. She would be glad to get home, out of her suit and into some jeans. Her leg was throbbing and, for the hundredth time that day, she wished she had worn a sneaker on that foot. Rob would hardly say anything about breaking dress code when she was walking with a cane.
Stephanie sighed in relief as she reached the car and bent to unlock the door. The keys slipped out of her fingers as she did, dropping to the cement with a clatter.
“Oh, come on,” she muttered, balancing her weight on her good leg as she bent down to reach for them.
Stephanie never heard the shot that shattered the glass in her driver’s door, but the car alarm was deafening. She clapped her hands over her ears as she lost her balance, falling to the pavement. Her hip and arm slammed into the ground, and Stephanie looked up just as a bullet ripped into the door, inches above her head.
She didn't have time to scream. Adrenaline and instinct took over and she gasped, rolling under her car. Heart pounding, she wiggled over until she was under the center of the vehicle, affording her the maximum amount of protection possible. Pain shot down her leg, but it was nothing compared to the pain in her ears from the shrieking car alarm. Realizing that her keys were in her hand, Stephanie clicked the alarm off. At first, all she heard was ringing in her ears from the sudden silence. Holding her breath, she tried to hear past the buzzing, listening intently, waiting for the next shot.
It never came.
Slowly, Stephanie became aware of yelling as feet pounded across the cement. She inched back toward the door, watching as a pair of men's shoes came into view.
“Stephanie!”
She exhaled in relief. She knew that voice. It was another agent from her department.
“Russ?” she asked, wincing when her voice came out shaky and thin.
Knees and an elbow came into view as Russ crouched down beside the car. He peered under in concern.
“Oh, thank God!” he exclaimed, reaching out a hand. “Come on. I think it's safe.”
“You think?” she repeated, taking his hand and allowing him to help her out from under the sports car.
“Brian is sounding the alarm now, and I haven't been shot yet, so yeah, I think we're safe.” Russ watched as she sat up and leaned back against the Mustang, rubbing her leg. “We were coming out of the elevator when the car alarm went off and got our attention. What the hell happened?”
“Someone was shooting at me,” she said, looking at the hole in her door.
Russ followed her gaze and cursed softly.
“That's a little too close for comfort,” he said, his face grim. “What the hell have you been getting involved in, Walker? I told you to stay away from the Casa Reinos and leave them to someone else!”
Stephanie started to laugh, but grimaced as her head throbbed in protest.
“Duly noted,” she said instead.
“Are you okay?” Brian came running up breathlessly. “He got away.”
Russ looked at him and straightened to his feet.
“He? You saw him?”
“Yes. Just the back of him as he disappeared out the gate.” Brian looked down at Stephanie. “An ambulance is on the way,” he told her. “Security is locking down the building.”
“I don't need another ambulance,” Stephanie objected, reaching for her purse which had fallen a foot away. “I've had enough of hospitals to last a lifetime.”
“One's coming anyway.” He looked at the door with the shattered window and bent down to study the bullet hole in the side, careful not to touch it. “Oh my God, Steph, you could have been killed!”
She glanced at him as she pulled her phone out of her purse.
“It's starting to look like that was the idea,” she said dryly, swiping her screen and tapping a button.
“What the hell have you got yourself into this time?” Brian demanded, drawing a laugh from Russ.
“That's what I said.”
“Why do you both automatically assume that I've gotten myself into anything?” Stephanie asked, disgruntled. “I just got back to work after weeks off. What could I possibly have gotten into?”
Both agents looked down at her.
“You? The possibilities are endless!” Russ exclaimed. “Your life isn't exactly uneventful.”
Stephanie made a face at them and held her phone to her ear.
“I can't help it,” she muttered. “I always seem to get dragged into things. Blake! Hey, wanna come down to the garage? Someone just took a shot at me.”
Russ and Brian both raised their eyebrows at the roar that came out of the phone. Stephanie disconnected and put the phone back in her bag.
“He's on his way.”
Hawk watched as Eleanor, the pretty brunette with green eyes, shepherded her flock into the next exhibit. As the last student went around the corner, she glanced at him. He winked and she blushed, smiling before following her students. Turning back to the exhibit in front of him, Hawk cast a swift glance at the crowd coming around the corner. Tarek had been moving steadily toward the main attraction at the end of the building, going in and out of the exhibits along the way. He was taking his time and, as he lingered, more and more students and visitors poured into the building.
Hawk looked at his watch. It was almost two o'clock. Charlie's estimations put prime time between one and three. He was right on the money. The post-lunch crowd was in full force, with teachers and chaperones trying to rush the students through before they had to get back to their buses. The noise level had risen significantly in the past twenty minutes, along with the head count, and Hawk knew that was just what Tarek had been waiting for.
While he was flirting with Eleanor, he had watched as Tarek steadily made his way toward the Bell. Now the building was packed, and Hawk knew he was running out of time.
He stole out of the exhibit and moved through the crowd toward the Liberty Bell. Tarek was ahead, waiting to go into the last exhibit before the Bell. Hawk passed Eleanor's group and made his way down the hall, never taking his eyes from Tarek. He was a few feet behind him when Tarek maneuvered his way into the last exhibit.
Hawk's gut clenched, and he instinctively knew that this was it. Tarek was going to do it now. He moved silently past a tall man and his partner, slipping into the exhibit ahead of them and scanning the small, crowded space. There was barely room to move. Both students and adults were pressing forward to read the information behind the glass and examine the photos.
Tarek was in the corner, standing in front of a display, studying it. As Hawk watched, the backpack slipped from his shoulder and disappeared in front of him. He bent forward, as if to get a better look at the exhibit before him, setting the bag on the floor, half under the exhibit wall.
Hawk was swift and silent, moving up close behind him as he reached into his right sleeve to undo the Velcro strap sewn on the inside. His ceramic knife dropped into his waiting hand and, in one smooth motion, he drove his arm forward. The blade slid expertly between two ribs, puncturing one of his lungs. Suddenly robbed of the ability to breathe or make any sound, Tarek's whole body arched. Hawk withdrew the blade, sliding it in again almost immediately, but this time targeting the heart.
It was over in seconds. The terrorist sagged forward as life expired, a cell phone dropping out of his left hand. Hawk caught it smoothly and swiftly bent to grab the backpack. Without missing a beat, he ducked under the half wall of the exhibit, slipping his knife into his jacket pocket. He hooked the large backpack over his wrist, effectively hiding the blood staining his hand and the cuff of his sleeve, and moved towards the exit, disappearing into the crowds.
Thirty seconds later, a scream sliced above the noise, joined by several others, as Tarek Masood slid to the floor, blood staining his back and leaking from his mouth.
Viper stood in the middle of the room behind an older couple, her head angled away from the cameras in the upper corners, listening as the park ranger discussed the signing of the Declaration of Independence. Students had packed in around them, and Kasim was in the back of the room, near the door, leaning against the wall. On their way into the room, she had glimpsed his phone in his hand. Knowing what she knew of Kasim and his bombs, she knew he preferred remote detonators. Cell phones had long been a favorite of his, and she was willing to gamble on the phone being the detonator.
Casting a swift glance over her shoulder, she noted the distance between them. The ranger had just begun her discourse, and people were gazing around the room, shifting to get a better view. She wasn't going to get a better chance. Turning, she moved unobtrusively through the press of bodies until she was in front of Kasim, standing less than a foot away with her back to him. No one paid her any attention, their attention focused on the ranger at the front and the exhibit before them. She felt rather than heard the terrorist shift behind her before becoming still against the wall again. She would have to be quick. There could be no room for error. The slightest hesitation and he would blow them all to hell.
Slipping her hand under her shirt, she slid a long, deadly ceramic blade out of the holster secured to the center of her bra. Concealing the knife inside her open jacket, Viper waited until the ranger was directing everyone's attention to a particular item in the display. Moving swiftly, she turned and stepped close to Kasim, thrusting her blade in under his sternum, puncturing his heart. At the same time, her left hand jabbed into his throat, collapsing his esophagus and preventing any sound from passing his lips. It happened so quickly that Kasim only had time to widen his eyes in shock.
“Tell your brother I said hello,” Viper whispered in his ear in Arabic, sliding his phone out of his hand.
She kept her knife in him until his eyes began to slide closed, then pulled it out at the same time as she slid the backpack from his shoulder. Pushing him against the wall, she slipped through the door and into the hallway. She had about thirty seconds before gravity took over and he fell, and maybe another twenty before someone saw the blood and the alarm was sounded.
She had to move.