After passing through the crowd of captives, Danya exited the holding room, into a portico that fronted the barracks building. The leading edge of the roof was supported by concrete pillars spaced about twelve feet apart.
The element of surprise she’d had only minutes ago had eroded, but hopefully had not evaporated. She knew they were aware that Charlie was dead, and they were onto her having a radio. By switching to an alternate channel, her ability to eavesdrop on their communications was nullified, so she turned off the device. She still carried it, though, clipped to her belt. Might have value later.
A gift shop was located at the southeast end of the portico. And directly to the front of the portico was an adobe concrete building with a mission-style gable on each end. It housed the restrooms for the arriving tourists as they disembarked from the ferry. She kept a low profile, shielding herself behind the base of the column closest to the souvenir store.
She was relieved to see Toby standing with a group of children, near the restrooms. But that relief was tempered by the presence of two armed men with their guns trained on the prisoners. A third guard was near the helicopter, gun pointed at the pilot from a judicious distance.
Danya watched as Sacheen conversed with an FBI man not far from the helicopter. Danya was too far to hear what was being said. Then they turned and walked farther away from the idling aircraft, toward the restrooms. She didn’t know what their destination was, or why Toby and the children were present. If they were going to release the children, why were they not already climbing onboard the helicopter? Maybe the helicopter was for a different purpose? But what?
With Sacheen and two of her men escorting the FBI agent away from the scene, that left just three armed guards. If Danya could eliminate them, the children could be flown away to safety. Despite the risk, the opportunity was enticing. She had a good position, with cover and a clear field of fire on the tangos. And they had no idea she was there.
Shouldering the MP5, she leaned around the base of the pillar and sighted on the guard nearest the pilot. Her attack would have to be swift. She had to protect both the children and the pilot so he could fly them to safety.
Taking in the scene one last time, she prioritized the targets.
Danya let out her breath and squeezed the trigger, sending a 115-grain full metal jacket bullet downrange. In a tenth of a second, the bullet struck the guard standing by the helicopter. A crimson cloud engulfed his head just before his legs gave way, and he collapsed in a heap.
Like a robot following a programmed routine, she moved her sight to the next priority.
s
The pilot’s training clicked in, and he was in motion, taking advantage of the ensuing confusion. In three strides, he was at the open door of the Eurocopter, and extracted a handgun tucked away beside his seat. He had his pistol in a two-handed hold, and took aim at the gunmen escorting the top-ranking FBI agent.
Two seconds had passed since Danya’s first shot.
Sacheen and the federal agent were in the lead, with Vernon and Leonard trailing. Vernon a little to the side. But they had not confirmed the location of the shooter, and had failed thus far to take defensive positions.
The pilot selected Vernon as his first target. Although he’d have preferred to take down Sacheen, the apparent leader, she was too close to Flynn for a safe shot. And placing a round into Leonard, who was in a direct line with the FBI agent, presented the risk of the bullet passing through and onward into the special agent in charge.
With a firm grip on the pistol, legs slightly apart, the pilot took aim and fired twice.
He was a good shot. He’d practiced often, and had even won a few pistol-shooting matches using the very same Smith & Wesson M&P 40 he was currently brandishing.
The two shots followed in quick succession, and Vernon tumbled forward as if he’d been hit from behind with a sack of concrete. Although the pilot had the drop on Sacheen and Leonard, he still didn’t have a clear shot since Agent Flynn was in their midst.
“Drop the weapons,” the pilot shouted, hoping the element of surprise would mask his tactical disadvantage.
Toby and the children were frozen in terror at the gunplay going on around them. Toby flinched with each gunshot, and the kids were crying.
Leonard swung around and opened up with the MP5, laying down an arc of bullets that cut through the middle of the pilot. As shock and electric fire from bullets ripping through his abdomen registered in his brain, he squeezed the trigger again, sending his final shot skyward. With blood pouring from his wounds, the CHP officer gazed toward the pale blue sky and took his final breath.
s
Danya had her sights on the closest guard near Toby and the children. She fired, striking him in the upper chest just a heartbeat before he fired toward her. Bullets hit the column above her head, but otherwise caused no harm.
He managed to pull the trigger again, sending a swarm of bullets into the gift shop, shattering two large windows. She squeezed the trigger, this time killing the guard with a head shot.
“Get down! Get down,” Danya shouted, from behind the column.
But it was too late. The second guard, having witnessed his friend being shot dead, swung his weapon in toward the barracks building. Uncertain where is enemy lay, he pulled the trigger before he had any clear target. Bullets ripped through the cluster of hostages.
Three of the children were hit and bleeding. Margaret lay on her back, her eyes closed. Her face looked serene, like she was peacefully asleep. For the briefest of moments, Toby thought she may have been unconscious from her head striking the ground. But then she saw the blood-soaked blouse, and knew the spunky grandmother was dead.
Toby grabbed the two closest kids and yanked them down by their arms. The rest, screaming at the sight of blood and gore, some of which had splashed onto their clothing, were still frozen in place. Toby launched toward them, her arms outstretched, and tackled them to the pavement.
A fusillade of bullets tore through the thin wall of the gift shop as the gunman sprayed the area with automatic fire. When his magazine emptied, he ejected it and rammed home a fresh one. Then he jerked back on the bolt and started hosing the area again. Danya knew from his action that he was shooting in panic, hoping for a lucky hit. An obvious amateur.
The red-dot optical sight on her weapon offered no magnification, but it wasn’t essential in close-quarter combat. She placed the dot on the gunman’s chest and fired twice—a double tap. The rounds hit his body with effect, but the bullet that struck the base of his neck is what killed him.
Staying low, she dashed away from the gift shop, toward the opposite end of the colonnade. Leonard caught her movement, despite the shadows, and snapped off a short burst.
As she neared the end of the arcade, the building housing the restrooms blocked any further gunfire. And it was then that she saw the line of seven drones.
“My God…”
She aimed the MP5 at the nearest drone and fired three shots. The third round blasted away fragments of plastic rotors. Then she methodically moved the red-dot sight to the next drone, and the next.
s
Sacheen locked her fist onto Flynn’s windbreaker, her pistol jammed into his side.
“You double-crossing bastard. What did you do?”
“Nothing. It wasn’t me. You got a bigger problem, sister.”
Perhaps he was right. Someone had killed Charlie, and had taken his weapon. It had to be one of the tourists who’d arrived at Alcatraz that morning, before she and Leonard had taken control of the island.
The gunfire continued, although now it was from the opposite side of the restrooms. She realized what that meant, and turned around in time to see a drone shot to pieces. Even before the debris of the shattered remote-controlled aircraft landed on the pavement, the next one in line was suffering a similar fate.
Leonard had closed in tight with her, his MP5 pressed into his shoulder, and the muzzle going wherever his head swiveled.
“Back to the children.” She held Flynn close. “They’re our shield.” Then she raised the radio to her lips. “Kyle, I need everyone from the cell house to immediately converge on the ferry landing. We are under attack, and taking causalities. I think the shooter is in the barracks building, but I can’t confirm the exact location. Probably the portico. Move it! Now!”
“But what about the prisoners?” Kyle said. “Who’s gonna keep an eye on them to make sure they don’t escape?”
“Forget about the hostages, you moron. We’re on an island. Where are they going to go? Get your ass down here. Now!”
Pushing the FBI man in the lead, she and Leonard noticed the shattered windows of the gift store. They kept a watchful eye on the colonnade, expecting him to pop into view around one of the columns. It never entered her mind that she might be battling another woman.
With their backs toward the bay, the trio edged closer and closer to Toby and the kids, all lying together on the pavement.
“Get up,” Sacheen said.
The gunfire had ceased, and she didn’t need to check the drones to know they’d all been destroyed by the shooter.
“No,” Toby replied.
“Get up, or I’ll shoot you one at a time.”
“No. If we stand, we’re all in danger of being killed in the crossfire.”
Despite Toby’s defiance, Sacheen knew she had the advantage.
“Listen to me!” she shouted to the unknown assailant. “Whoever you are. Show yourself, or I start executing the children.”
Her challenge was met with silence, other than the whisper of a light breeze. She lowered her pistol, aiming at a small girl not more than ten years old. Her curly red hair partially hid her tear-streaked freckled face. She was sobbing, as were all the children
“Lower your weapon,” Sacheen whispered to Leonard. “Aim at the children.”
“What? I’m not taking my gun off this piece-of-shit federal agent.”
“Do it,” she snarled.
Reluctantly, Leonard lowered his submachine gun so the muzzle hovered over the children.
She called out again. “I mean it. I’m not bluffing.”
Danya had reversed course and stalked back to a position where she could see the hostages, Sacheen, and the gunman. Hiding in the deep shadows, and using a concrete column for cover, her eyes burned with intensity as she watched the events unfolding less than fifty yards away. Her perfect ambush had fallen apart and was seconds away from an unqualified disaster, a complete fubar.
Her mind flashed back to the school bus filled with children, in the desert—the mission she’d led, and that had been a near-total failure. Again, she was facing failure.
“Not this time,” she whispered.
Danya slowed her breathing, as she’d been trained, and relaxed her body. Adjusting her position, she took careful aim on Sacheen—placing the red dot of the holographic sight onto her head.
But Sacheen and Leonard weren’t fools. They’d pulled in close behind the FBI agent. The best Danya could do was to aim for the half of her head that was exposed. If she pulled the trigger, she would kill the leader. Of that, she was certain. But it was likely she’d either kill or maim the FBI man with the same shot.
The life of an innocent for the life of a killer? It penciled out when she considered the children’s lives hanging in the balance. Trouble was, there were two armed antagonists. And she could only kill one at a time, leaving the other one a full second, perhaps longer, to unleash deadly revenge on the assembled youth.
“Last warning!” Sacheen yelled.
Danya still hesitated to act, torn between what her training had taught her, and what her intellect told her. Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears like a drum, and it was becoming more and more difficult to regulate her breathing and keep a steady aim.
She moved the sight to the gunman. She’d seen him before, with Sacheen, and assumed he was also a leader of the group. But he offered no better opportunity for a clear shot.
“You think I’m bluffing? So be it.” Sacheen casually pulled the trigger.
Boom!