Zeb didn’t need to warn anyone about shooters in the building.
People were running scared, rushing out of the building. Any further warning from him would turn the rush into a stampede.
That would be worse. They’ll head home in any case. Call the cops.
While I deal with Namir.
He limped out, some women screaming when they saw his gun and the blood on his clothing.
‘I’m with the FBI,’ he called out. But it was futile.
Namir will know something went wrong.
But he won’t do anything yet. Not until he is sure.
After all, he is holding a trump card.
Sara.
It had come to Zeb when he was swinging on the cable.
The reason the terrorist wasn’t at the church with the rest of his men was so blindingly obvious that he cursed himself for not having figured it out sooner.
He’s at Ashland’s home.
He needs an insurance policy until he escapes. He’ll probably go over the Canadian border.
He checked the cell he had grabbed off Tahir.
Still no signal.
That would buy him some time, since Namir would have realized he couldn’t contact his men.
He reached his pickup on the street. Climbed into it swiftly.
Reversed it and turned around.
Reached into his pocket and brought out another cell. The one he had borrowed from Ashland.
‘Ma’am. Five down. No innocents,’ he squinted, feeling dizziness wash over him, as Clare came on the line.
‘I am getting reports, Zeb. Radio and cellphone traffic. Unconfirmed reports of gunmen in Erilyn’s church.’
‘I am confirming those reports, ma’am,’ he stated grimly as a cruiser flashed past. He thought he caught a glimpse of Schwartz at the wheel.
‘I was one of those shooters. The others, terrorists, are all out of action.’
No congratulatory messages from her. His boss was ice-cool, matter-of-fact, as if they were discussing the weather.
Which was why she headed The Agency.
‘SWAT’s ten minutes away. State cops, too.’
‘No, ma’am. We have one more problem. Namir is loose. I am betting he’s at Ashland’s house.’
Silence, while she processed his information.
‘You need to—’
‘Yes, ma’am. I am heading there. Schwartz, ma’am. All he should do is contain the scene. Reduce the radio chatter. He should not act on his own.’
‘I’ll handle it.’
Zeb tossed the cell away. Drove past Farloe Street.
Looked at it from the corners of his eyes.
The same vehicles he had seen when he had arrived with the girl.
He knew, because he had memorized the makes and the plates.
But there was a new one. A black SUV. Underneath a tree. Facing away from Ashland’s house.
Namir’s getaway vehicle?
Only one way to find out.
He reversed in someone’s driveway. Knocked over a pot. Offered a silent apology and headed back.
He cut his speed almost to idling as he nosed into the street.
No sign of any occupant in the vehicle.
Hiding somewhere?
He straightened the wheel. Pointed the truck at the black vehicle.
And jumped out.
Alert. Sig down his side.
Ran to the rear of the driverless truck. Ducked behind it and followed it as the vehicle rolled forward.
The truck rammed into the SUV.
Which rocked back and slid sideways several inches.
No gunman showed up.