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Hawk glanced at his watch and pulled his phone from his pocket, setting down the pair of tweezers in his hand. He was in the armory attached to Viper's command center, with the backpack he’d taken from Tarek in pieces on the table in front of him.
“I thought you said you were on your way,” he answered, holding the phone up to his ear. “That was an hour ago.”
“Miss me already?” Viper asked, a trace of amusement in her voice. “I got side-tracked.”
Hawk frowned. “Side-tracked with what?”
“I saw someone I recognized. I followed him out of the city, but lost him north of Conshohocken.”
“Consho-where?”
She chuckled.
“Never mind. It's not important. What is important is who it was.”
“Are you going to share?”
“He's one of the professionals from the hotel when you took out Jin Seung Moon in Rittenhouse last fall. Remember I said there were three of them outside? I got two, but the third disappeared into the hotel.”
Hawk stilled. “You're sure?”
“Yes, and it gets better.”
“Of course it does. Go ahead. Tell me.”
“I just got off the phone with Stephanie. Someone took a shot at her in the parking garage of the FBI building. They used a high-powered rifle and disappeared without a trace before security could blink.”
Hawk exhaled. “And your missing professional?”
“I saw him a block away from the Bureau with a guitar case on his back.”
“Why the hell was he shooting at Stephanie?” Hawk demanded. “And in the Bureau parking garage? That's just sloppy.”
“Agreed,” she said grimly. “As for the why, it turns out Special Agent Walker has had quite a time the past two days. Someone broke into her apartment the night before last and clocked her over the head. When she came to, Blake was there and his pit bull had chased the perp out of the house.”
“What did they want?”
“No idea. Stephanie realized the next morning that they copied the hard-drive of her laptop. Other than that, nothing was touched.”
“And today someone tried to kill her. Not looking good. What was on her laptop?”
“Nothing worth killing over.” Viper paused. “She's on her way to the house.”
Hawk looked at the backpack in front of him.
“I have a bomb in pieces under your kitchen.”
“She doesn't know that area exists. It's fine. Just don't put it back together and arm it.”
Hawk chuckled. “Roger that.”
“How did Kasim conceal them in the bags?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her. “I haven't had time to examine the one I took from him.”
“Where is it?”
“In the trunk.”
Hawk felt a laugh building inside him.
“You're driving around with a live bomb in your trunk?”
“Well, the trigger was destroyed, so I figure as long as I don't get rear-ended by a semi, I'm good,” she replied, a tremor in her voice betraying her own sudden amusement. “I am, right? You have it in front of you. Am I going to blow myself up if I hit a pothole?”
Damon debated making her sweat, then shook his head.
“No, you're fine,” he said instead. “The bombs were set to blow with the trigger, but if it wasn't activated, there was no backup timer or switch. He wasn't taking any chances on those bombs going off anywhere except where and when he wanted them to.”
“How were they hidden?”
“He ran the wiring inside the lining, all around the bag. The explosive itself was sewn into a hidden compartment in the bottom. Anyone searching it wouldn't have any idea it was there. They may have thought the bag was a little heavy, but he used hiking packs. They're heavier in general. Not a bad little set up, actually.”
“How much explosive?”
“Enough to have caused a massive body count,” he said soberly. “If they both went together, which was probably the plan, they would have wiped out most of the buildings. He used carbon fiber ball bearings, so in addition to blast overpressure, there would have been projectiles. It would have been bad. Real bad.”
She was silent for a long moment.
“Have you sent a progress report to Charlie yet?” she finally asked.
“I will once I'm finished dismantling this thing.”
“Good. In the meantime, Stephanie's on her way. I told her you were there.” Alina paused again and Damon frowned, waiting. “Hawk, keep an eye on her. I'm over an hour out with rush hour traffic, and I don't know that I trust her.”
“Aside from the obvious, any additional reason why?”
“Just a gut-feeling I have,” she said slowly. “Make sure she isn't followed past the perimeter. I've already activated the full perimeter system from my phone. If anyone breaches it anywhere, you'll know.”
“And once she's in?”
“Don't let her out of your sight.”
Stephanie turned the radio up to try to combat the road noise. Wind whipped through the open window, blowing her hair into her face as she flew down the left lane of the highway. Between the wind and the coffee Blake had handed her before she left the city, the last remnants of shock were wearing off. Now, she was just mad.
The rifle round had gone through the window with such high velocity that the glass shattered. Once they were finished going over her car, one of the techs had cleaned out the remaining glass from the inside edges of the window frame and vacuumed the rest up from her seat and floor. Until she could have it replaced, Stephanie was windowless. Once she got to Alina’s, she’d see if she had some plastic sheeting she could tape to the opening. Until then, Stephanie had zipped up her jacket against the spring chill and went on her way. Blake hadn't wanted her to drive at all, but short of dropping her off five miles from the house in the Pine Barrens, there wasn't much he could do.
Stephanie scowled as she merged onto Rt 70 from Rt 38. It wasn't the damaged window or the hole in the door that had him worried, but rather the fact that whoever did it was still out there. The shooter had had the temerity to open fire in the FBI parking garage, for God's sake. He certainly wouldn't have any reservations about trying again in public. Stephanie agreed that they would try again. Where she parted company with both Blake and Rob was in their belief that they would try again immediately. As far as she was concerned, she had to get to Viper's and off the grid before they regrouped, and she was doing just that.
She wasn't worried so much as mad. She now needed a new window and would have to have the door fixed. Knowing her luck, it would require a whole new door, and she was fairly confident that her insurance did not cover bullet holes. Not only was she looking at the inconvenience of dealing with getting the car fixed, but she was on her way to hide in a house out in the middle of Medford with an assassin. All in all, not a good time any way you looked at it.
Stephanie wasn't stupid, nor was she reckless. She also didn't believe she was invincible. If nothing else, John's death had shown her clearly that none of them were guaranteed their continued existence on this earth. She knew that if she didn't disappear, the odds were not good that she would continue to enjoy good health. However, knowing she was doing the sensible thing and being happy about it didn't necessarily go hand-in-hand. She was furious that it had even come to this.
Her mind went back to the other night in the apartment, and she shivered involuntarily. They were in her home, and she didn't even know who 'they' were! What were they looking for? What did they think they would find on her laptop? Surely anything worth hiding would be kept in the safe, but they hadn't touched the safe in her closet.
Blake was convinced that it wasn't the Cartel, and she was inclined to trust his instinct on that. After all, he'd been studying them for over a year and a half now. If anyone was in a position to know what they would and would not do, it was Blake. But then who was trying to kill her? She had been content to believe that the break-in was just a break-in, and not an attempt to physically harm her. She had assumed that the only reason she got hit over the head was because she had interrupted them. After today, that was clearly not the case. But then why didn't they kill her the other night? She hadn't seen them, and it would have been a simple thing to shoot her instead of knocking her out. They could have trashed the apartment, and everyone would have assumed that it was just another home invasion that had ended badly.
Stephanie shivered again and shook her head. None of it made any sense. Not the intruder, not the laptop, and most certainly not the shooter today. Who the hell wanted her dead? And why? It kept coming back to who and why, and she didn't have an answer for either question.
When she’d spoken to Alina on the phone, Stephanie had tried to be as matter-of-fact as possible and to keep it brief. Even so, Lina had been uncharacteristically quiet. Not that she ever spoke much, but the silence had been deafening when Stephanie told her that someone had cloned her laptop. She frowned now. If she had been hoping for some helpful insight from the Black Widow, it looked like she was going to be out of luck. Aside from saying that she should have told her about the break-in sooner, Alina hadn't said much at all. She told her to go to the house, and she would let Damon know she was on her way. That was it.
Stephanie sighed, decreasing speed as she drove into the rush hour traffic clogging Rt 70 on its way into Cherry Hill. She couldn't even go home to get clothes. All she could do was go straight there and hope that Lina had something she could borrow that would fit. She slowed to a stop behind a row of traffic in the left lane and chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. She couldn't go to her apartment to get clothes, but someone else could.
Without a second thought, Stephanie touched the hands-free screen on her dash and called Angela. She picked up on the second ring.
“Hey, I was just going to call you! Are you okay?”
Stephanie blinked. “How do you know?” she asked, surprised.
“It's all over the news! Someone opened fire in the parking garage. Had you already left? I know you're only working half days.”
Stephanie inched forward with the traffic.
“No, I was still there,” she said. “Hey, I need a favor.”
“Sure. What's up?”
“In a couple hours, can you swing by my place and pick up some things for me? Blake will be there, and he can let you in.”
“I guess so,” Angela said slowly. “I can swing by after the gym. What do you need? And where will you be?”
“I'm going to Alina's.” The traffic picked up a little and Stephanie pressed the gas. “There's no good way to tell you this, so I'll just say it. The shooter this afternoon hit my car. He was aiming for me.”
The screech that came through the car speakers was ear-splitting and Stephanie winced.
“What?! What the hell do you mean?”
“Just what I said. They aimed at me and hit the car.”
“Why would someone do that? What the hell, Steph! First John's funeral, now this!”
“I don't know why. When you dropped me off the other night, someone was in my apartment. They knocked me out. Luckily, Blake was right behind us, and Buddy scared them away,” Stephanie explained. “I thought it was just a break-in, but then this happened today.”
“Oh my God, Stephanie, why didn't you tell me? Someone was inside your apartment?! Why? What the hell is going on?”
“I wish I knew, Angie.” Stephanie sounded defeated even to her own ears. “Rob wanted to put me in a safe house. Blake convinced him there was somewhere better, and now I'm off to Alina's.”
“Honestly, Steph, it's probably the safest place. That house is like being on a military base,” Angela told her. “Can't Blake bring your clothes?”
Stephanie bit her lip, thinking fast. Angela had no idea that Alina's house wasn't common knowledge to all and sundry.
“Would you want a guy picking out underwear and collecting toiletries and pills?” she demanded. “I don't want him going through my clothes and knowing what birth control I use!”
“Oh, good point. I didn't think of that.” Stephanie breathed a silent sigh of relief. “Is there anything specific you want me to grab?”
“No. Just grab clothes for a few days. All my meds are together in a box in the bathroom drawer. You can grab the whole box. You know where everything else is. I have my laptop, but if you would grab my Kindle from the bedside table, that would be good. Then at least I can read while I'm cooped up there.”
“It's not that bad,” Angela said. “She has FIOS, and HBO. I'll grab some provisions for you, though.”
Stephanie choked back a laugh. “Provisions?”
“Trust me. There's no soda, no chips, no bagels. It's a nightmare. But never fear, I got you covered.”
Stephanie's heart sank as the reality of her situation set it.
“No frozen pizza?” she ventured.
“Nope. But like I said, I got you,” Angela assured her cheerfully. “On the plus side, her wine cabinet is fully stocked and amazing.”
Stephanie cheered a little at that.
“Well, that's something. I'll call Blake and tell him you're going over to grab some things. What time should I tell him?”
“Around seven works for me.”
“Perfect. Thanks, Ang. I appreciate it.”
“Anytime. Just keep yourself safe! What are they doing to figure this all out?”
“A lot. They'll find him, and then Blake will question him and find out why this is happening,” Stephanie said with more conviction than she actually felt. No sense in getting Angela more upset than she already was.
“Alright. Text me when you get there so I know you're safe. If you think of anything else you need me to get, let me know.”
“Will do.”
Stephanie disconnected and glanced at the clock on the dash. She'd call Blake once she got to Lina's and let him know the plan. The traffic was moving a little better now, so she should get there within the next forty minutes. Plenty of time for Blake to arrange to be at the apartment by seven.
Returning her attention to the road and the intersection in front of her, she smiled. Thank goodness for Angela and her willingness to help out at a moment's notice!
Crossing into the intersection with the green light, a sudden blur of black caught her attention. Stephanie turned her head sharply just as something big and fast slammed into the passenger side door with a horrific crash.
The impact sent the Mustang spinning to the left, into the path of the oncoming traffic on the other side of the highway. Stephanie slammed on her brakes as the sports car continued to spin until she was facing the direction the black blur had come from. When the car finally stopped, her door was facing the oncoming traffic. She watched helplessly as a white pickup truck locked its wheels, bearing down on her at an impossible speed. With the sound of the first collision still echoing in her ears and vibrating through her body, Stephanie closed her eyes and braced for another hit. It came, but only after the driver was able to wrench the truck to the right at the last minute. Instead of slamming directly into her door, the truck hit the corner of the rear bumper, sending her spinning once again. The second impact wasn't nearly as forceful as the first, but the contact threw Stephanie sideways in her seat nonetheless. She gripped the steering wheel as the car spun to the right before finally coming to a stop in the center of the intersection, between the East and Westbound lanes.
Tires screeched around her and a buzzing started in her head. She frowned, staring at her hands on the wheel as if they were detached. They weren't. They were shaking from the vibrations still rocking through the frame of the sports car. What was that awful buzzing? Stephanie tried to move her head and pain shot down her neck as the buzzing stopped and an excruciating throbbing began. Did she hit her head?
Forcing herself to think, Stephanie slowly loosened her grip on the steering wheel. A shadow moved into her peripheral vision and she turned her head. It felt like she was trying to move a tank. Her vision was suddenly blurred, but she managed to focus on the outline of a man approaching her door. Oh good. Someone was coming to help. She pulled her hands off the wheel and reached down to press the button to release her seat belt. As it released, the man got to her open window and bent down to peer inside.
Stephanie didn't see his face. All she saw was the needle and syringe in his hand. That was all she needed to see. Panic shot through her, dispersing the shock and numbness stealing through her body instantly.
He reached into the car and tried to grab her arm. Now that the seat belt was out of the way, Stephanie was able to twist away from his grasping hand. Grabbing the wrist of the hand holding the syringe, she tried to force it away from her body with one hand while she reached for the Glock in her side holster. Her attacker's other hand clamped around her neck, forcing her head back against the headrest while he struggled to get the syringe closer to her.
Strong fingers bit into her throat, holding her pressed against the seat and making it almost impossible to breathe. Stephanie gasped for air as her fingers wrenched her gun out of the holster. She couldn't shoot easily with one hand in this position, but she could still use it as a weapon. Striking out blindly, she felt a satisfying crack as the butt of the pistol slammed into the hand holding the syringe. It dropped into her lap and she let go of her grip on the attacker’s wrist to grab it. The pressure on her throat eased suddenly as the man jerked, and Stephanie took the opportunity to suck in a gulp of air.
Realizing he'd lost his weapon, the pressure on her neck increased again as he tried to grab the syringe back. His hand clamped around her wrist, pulling her arm towards the window. Terror gave her strength she didn't know she had and Stephanie wrenched her arm away, nailing her elbow on the steering wheel. If there was pain, she was beyond feeling it. Fury swept through her and she angled the needle up, stabbing it viciously into the arm holding her trapped against the headrest. Her thumb depressed the syringe and she heard a sharp intake of breath from the window.
Releasing her neck, the attacker stumbled backwards. His arms disappeared from the window and Stephanie gasped in air, dropping the now-empty syringe onto the floor. She turned her head, staring out the window as the man began to lurch away from the car. He was gasping, as if he couldn't breathe, and then he suddenly went down, disappearing from view.
Stephanie leaned forward, peering out the window. He was laying on the road next to the car, not moving. Sirens sounded in the distance, and she fell back against the seat, exhaling. Realizing she was still gripping her Glock in her hand, she moved to put it back in her holster. Once it was secured again, her arm fell into her lap and she stared at the ceiling of her car numbly.
What the hell just happened?
“Ma'am?” a voice made its way through to her and another shadow fell across her window. “Are you okay?”
Stephanie reached for her gun, fear gripping her once again. A young man bent down to peer in, and she saw that he was dressed in a mechanic's shirt and jeans. Her fingers slid off her weapon, leaving it holstered.
“Don't move,” the young man said, getting a good look at her. “Cops and an ambulance are on the way.” He straightened up and looked over the roof of the car. “I can see them. They're about a block away. Don't worry. They'll be here soon.”
“I'm...ok...” Stephanie said, trying to sit up again. “I don't know what happened.”
“I don't know, but I think that guy slammed into you,” he told her, nodding to the motionless man on the ground. “I tried to miss you, but I got your back bumper. When I stopped, I saw him getting out of the Escalade. The front of it is pretty banged in.”
“Is he okay?” Stephanie asked, trying to see out the window again.
The young man looked down and shook his head.
“I don't know. I think he's out cold.”
The sirens were really loud now, and Stephanie saw flashing lights easing through the rush hour traffic to pull up in the middle of the intersection. The last remnant of adrenaline faded and she collapsed back against the seat again, exhausted.
The cops were here. They'd take care of the guy on the ground and then maybe she'd get some answers. Her eyes began to slide shut as a heavy feeling of numbness stole over her. Her head was pounding again, and the glare from the sun was making it worse. She'd just close her eyes for a minute. The cops were there now.
It was going to be alright.