Hardy advanced toward the back door of the warehouse. Opening the door, Hardy stepped inside and waited, his ears straining to hear even the slightest of noises. Taking a step forward, he heard the unmistakable ‘click’ of a woman’s heel. He looked up. The sound had come from one of the floors above him. Hardy hurried to the stairwell. Craning his head backward, all he saw was darkness. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. He had spent two hours watching the warehouse and the only movement had come from the top floor. Hardy took one more look before creeping up the darkened stairwell.
Hardy paused at each floor and searched for additional terrorists. He had seen five men guarding the perimeter and he knew there must be more inside. Operating alone, he had to be cautious. The last thing he wanted was one of them sneaking up from behind.
Reaching the top floor, he pressed his body against the wall to his right and peered around the corner. He saw light coming from a room at the end of a long hallway. He heard muffled voices coming from the same room, as he slinked down the hallway, carefully checking each room he passed. So far, so good. The last door was on the right. Closed, the door was made of metal with a small window at the top. Getting into position, his back to the wall, Hardy leaned out and peeked through the window. A woman with jet-black hair, wearing thigh boots, was standing over a man on the floor, pointing a pistol at him. Smoke rose from the pistol’s sound suppressor. Outside, he had not gotten a good look at the woman; however, now he could clearly see her face; it was Dahlia. He readied his MP5 rifle and prepared to storm the room.
………………………..
Dahlia was not surprised when Hardy entered the room and demanded she drop her weapon. She had a feeling it was only a matter of time before the two of them met face to face. She turned away from the man she had killed. “Hello, Aaron. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you—formally, I mean.” She paused. “I’m sorry. Is it presumptuous of me to call you by your first name? Although…with all we’ve been through, it seems like we do know each other fairly well.”
“I said, drop your weapon.” Hardy moved further into the room. He was now halfway between her and the door.
Dahlia observed Hardy’s eyes, trying to read his thoughts. She was not going to drop her weapon, and she knew he would not drop his either. She had plans to walk out of this building under her own power and not in handcuffs. The thought of them together, her in handcuffs, brought a smile to her red lips. “I’m sorry. I can’t do that.” A full minute passed, while they stared at each other. The heels of her boots echoed throughout the room when she took a few slow steps toward Hardy’s left, exposing the left side of her body to gunfire. “It would seem that we’re at an impasse.”
Hardy lowered his rifle slightly, so he could get a clear view of her, specifically her eyes, looking for telltale signs of her intentions. He tried one more time. “I won’t tell you again, Dahlia. Drop…your…weapon.”
Dahlia cocked her head. “So, you know my name.” She faced him. “Do you know my last name?” His eyebrows scrunched and he lowered his weapon a fraction of an inch. She was about to ask another question, but stopped, raised her pistol and fired two shots toward him.