Special Agent Cruz had no room to draw her pistol and shoot the man. She brought her hands together and forced them upward between the man’s arms, breaking his grip on her. His upper body fell back to the floor. Cruz struck him in the throat and delivered several blows to his head. Clutching his throat and gasping for air, he stopped his attack. She drew her pistol and pressed her left shoulder against the display case. “Hardy, Dahlia, I’m taking fire. What’s your status?” Cruz heard more gunfire, coming from a larger caliber weapon.
“Southeast corner…pinned down by fire,” replied Dahlia above the noise of rifle rounds, hitting the corner of the wall where she was taking cover.
Hardy’s voice filled the airwaves. “I’m on Dahlia’s six. One man down…how many left?”
“I’ve neutralized one at the front door.” Cruz leaned to her right and fired three rounds down the length of the display case. “There’s one left…he’s toward the back of the store behind the counter.” More bullets zipped past Cruz.
The terrorist had positioned himself in the small area where the two wooden display cases came together to form an L-shape. The display cases did not come together completely, giving him a place of cover. Cruz was situated to his right and Dahlia and Hardy were straight ahead of him. He had a pistol in his right hand, firing at Cruz and a semi-automatic rifle in his left hand, the stock wedged between his left arm and body, firing at Hardy and Dahlia.
Cruz squatted and fired four shots over the top of the display case before taking cover once again. “We’ve got to take him out before he kills someone on the street.”
Dahlia put her pistol in her left hand and shoved it past the corner of the interior wall. She pressed the trigger several times and drew her weapon back, when pieces of the wall exploded in front of her face. “I can’t get a clear shot.”
Hardy was crouching behind her, surveying the room. He saw the staircase to his left and thought about making a run for it. Gaining the advantage of height, he could get off a shot at the man. After closer inspection of the area, he re-considered. There was a lot of open space between him and the bottom of the staircase, and the terrorist had a semi-automatic rifle.
Cruz peeked around the left side of the display case. She had a clear path all the way down to the back wall of the room. “I’ve got an idea.” She dropped the magazine from her pistol and stowed it in her jacket pocket. “Don’t return fire. Just keep him busy.”
Hardy cranked his head away from the staircase. “What’re you doing, Cruz?”
“I played softball in high school,” she said, retrieving a full magazine from her pocket. “The best part about the game was stealing bases.”
Hardy had a bad feeling in his gut.
Dahlia twisted her head toward him. “What is she talking about?”
Cruz slammed the full magazine into her pistol and got into a low crouch, facing the display case and the terrorist. “I was pretty good at it, too.” A couple more bullets went by her on her right; one ricocheted off the side of the case before it left the store.
“Talk to us, Cruz,” said Hardy.
Dahlia leaned left and tried to spot her teammate. “What are you planning, Cruz?”
Cruz took a deep breath and let it out. “I’m stealing second base.” She leaned to her right and fired three times before taking off on a dead run down the left side of the display case. Halfway down, she heard the rapport of the man’s weapon several times.
Dahlia caught a glimpse of Cruz’s head, moving left to right before it disappeared. “What the hell is she doing?”
Three feet before the end of the display case, Cruz threw her left foot forward. Her right leg was under her left knee, when her right hip landed and she skimmed along the floor. Clearing the end of the display case, she saw the terrorist. He had his back to her, pointing his pistol toward the front of the store. Cruz’s legs were straight out, while she slid on the right side of her body. Pointing her pistol at the man, she squeezed the weapon’s trigger four times. Four times, she hit her target. The first two bullets struck him the back of his neck. The third bullet penetrated his skull, while the final one cut his ear and sliced a gash along the left side of his face before hitting the wooden case, sending splinters into the air. On his knees, the man slumped forward and his head banged against the display case.
Cruz continued to slide, her body rotating ninety degrees to her right, until she came to rest with her back against the interior wall. With her weapon trained on the man, she hailed her teammates. “Target is neutralized…I repeat…target neutralized.”
Hardy responded. “Cruz, are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
Hardy tapped Dahlia on the shoulder. “Check the rest of the main floor. I’m going upstairs.” He ran toward the bottom of the staircase and ascended the stairs.
Dahlia moved out from behind the corner of the wall and cleared the main room, ending her search in the back office. Re-emerging from the small room, she checked to make sure the terrorist Cruz had shot was dead, before giving the ‘all clear’ and heading toward Cruz.
Hardy’s voice came over their earpieces. “Second floor is all clear.”
Cruz was lying against the wall. Her legs were crossed at the ankles and her leather skirt was split up the right side. The zipper had split apart and the back half of the skirt was under her butt, while the front half rested on her stomach. She put the heel of her left boot on the floor and reached out with her left hand.
Dahlia clasped Cruz’s hand and helped her get to her feet. “Really, Cruz…white briefs? At least add a little color…maybe some reds or blacks.”
Cruz bent over at the waist and tried to push the skirt’s zipper back down the side; it wouldn’t budge. The skirt had a permanent slit in the side, running to the waistband. She stood erect and fiddled with the zipper. “I think I ruined it.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got plenty more.”
Hardy came down the stairs, talking on his cell phone. Joining the women, he put away his phone. “The Hostage Rescue Team is making their assault now. I’ll have a report in fifteen minutes.”
Charity interjected. “Is everyone all right?”
“We’re all good,” replied Dahlia.
“Hardy, I can hear the sirens. The police are on their way.”
“Intercept them at the front door, Cherry. I’ll be right out.” He acknowledged Cruz and Dahlia. “Is anyone still alive?”
Hardy had dragged the man, who exited the back door, to the concrete. Once the man was on his stomach, he pulled a weapon from the front of his pants and fired upward at Hardy. Hardy had no choice. He put two rounds into the back of the man’s head and his body went limp, the gun in his hand clattering against the hard surface.
Cruz pointed. “The one at the front of the store still is.”
Hardy commanded Dahlia. “Get what you can from him.” He spun his head toward Cruz. “Take a look around in here and see what you can come up with. I’ll send Cherry in to help.”
Cruz nodded her head, while she massaged her right knee.
“Are you okay?”
She waved her hand at him. “My knee’s sore. I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t know how you did it, but nice work.” Hardy left her and hurried out of the store, fishing out his FBI credentials from his pocket. He could see the flashing lights on two squad cars from the Los Angeles Police Department.