He shoved his phone into his pocket and felt the thumb drive Black had given him.
I guess it wouldn’t hurt to at least take a look at this.
Miller went home, elated over the Braves’ trouncing of the Nationals, yet disappointed that he’d betrayed Black. But there was a way to make it up to him: Look at the contents of the thumb drive.
Miller inserted the device into his computer and started to sift through the files. It didn’t take long before his eyes widened and his mouth dropped.
Are you kidding me?
Miller called his editor to tell him a synopsis of what was contained on the drive.
“I’ll have a story for you tomorrow,” Miller said before hanging up.
He was right. This is Pulitzer prize-winning material.
CHAPTER 24
Washington, D.C.
TATIANA SMILED AS SHE twirled across the stage to the captivating sounds of Pyotr Tchiakovsky’s Swan Lake ballet. She hadn’t felt this carefree and happy since that day in Bali at the beach when she was going to eat ice cream with her new friends. That seemed like a lifetime ago.
But as she leaped into the air and thrust her arms out, everything seemed to fade away like a distant memory. Even the girl she stabbed to death the night before so she could dance in this special performance. As Tatiana went to bed the night before, all she could see was the tortured dancer’s face as she bled to death, begging Tatiana to stop while gasping for one last breath. Now, it was like a clean slate. One more person to kill and Tatiana could go home to be with her family. However, there was still work to be done, a dance to be mastered, a weapon to plant.
After one of the breaks, the instructor called Tatiana over.
“Emily, I seem to be missing your parental consent form,” the woman said. “Would you mind taking this home to your parents and having them sign it before tomorrow night’s performance?”
“Of course,” Tatiana said.
“Thank you,” the woman said. “I’d hate for you to miss it because of this. The passion that’s expressed as you float across the floor is contagious.”
Tatiana nodded. “That’s so kind of you, ma’am. I appreciate that.”
“I hope that inspires you to continue dancing. I know a lot of girls quit at this age because they’re not going to make it. But I think that’s silly if you really love something. And I can tell you love to dance.”
“I love to perform,” Tatiana said with a wink. “The applause makes all the hard work—the long nights at rehearsal and the calluses on my toes—worth it.”
“As long as you find joy in it, I guess that’s as good of a reason as any to dance.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” Tatiana said. “I love dancing. But an audience makes it that much more enjoyable.”
“Well, it’s quite obvious that you’ve been trained by some very competent teachers. Your technical skill is excellent. And your posture? I wish I could get half the girls in my classes to carry themselves like that. If you don’t mind me asking, where did you train?”
“Here and there,” Tatiana said. “We’ve moved around a lot.”
“I see. Well, don’t forget to bring that form back. Whoever designated you as an alternate made a huge mistake. I’m glad to see that was rectified since Hannah didn’t show up today. We needed an extra dance, and if you hadn’t been here, I would’ve had to have adjusted a large portion of the choreography.”
Tatiana flashed a smile. “I’m glad to help. See you tomorrow—with a signed form.”
“Ready for one more run through?” her teacher asked.
Tatiana nodded. “Of course.”
“All right, everybody,” the teacher said. “Let’s take it from the top. Places!”
A wide grin spread across Tatiana’s face. She took a deep breath as she assumed her opening position. Once all the girls were in place, the orchestra began playing, setting the dance into motion.
As she whirled past her teacher, Tatiana winked.
Enjoy it while you can because this will be the last time you see me dance this way.
Only one more day before Tatiana could go home. And she couldn’t wait.
CHAPTER 25
CHRISTINA SHIELDS STILL HADN’T grown accustomed to the stares she received while out in public, her prosthetic right leg broadcasting her mishap as if it were a breaking news segment on television. Even when she wore pants and the combination of carbon fiber and titanium weren’t visible, she still sensed people eyeing her closely. But for all her insecurity about the appearance of her lower extremities, none of that changed the fact that she still possessed blazing speed.
When she noticed Black in trouble at the stadium, she knew she needed to sprint out of there before Nate Miller put two and two together. The attractive woman, the extra large beer, the trip to the bathroom—if he realized that she was working with Black, Miller would report her to the authorities as well as some kind of accomplice. And if she was going to be able to help Black now, it wouldn’t be by serving as his chauffeur. She figured she’d be better served misdirecting all the entities hunting for him, at least until she was able to dig up the proof necessary to implicate Senator Gaither.
She tried their coms, a shot in the dark considering she had no idea where he was or if he’d been captured.
“Black, do you read me?” she called.
Nothing.
“Come on, Black. Tell me you’re okay.”
Still nothing.
She opened the police scanner app on her phone and listened as Metro police spoke in coded language. Growing up as the daughter of a sheriff in small town Georgia, Shields spent plenty of nights with her father at the station. Despite her mother’s objections, Shields scheduled at least one ride-along with her father every week, serving the two-fold purpose of satiating her desire to be around law enforcement and getting some one-on-one time with her dad.
“We’ve got a 10-29F near Nationals Park,” the dispatch said, crackling over the speaker. “It isn’t known if the subject is armed, but he’s considered dangerous. If you spot him, do not approach, and wait for backup. I repeat, do not approach.”
At least Black’s still on the lam.
Shields wheeled her car around, escaping the rather sparse crowd leaving the stadium parking lot in a matter of minutes. Just before entering the stadium, she and Black had discussed the protocol in the event that they got separated. And she was headed straight to the rendezvous point. However, as she turned onto one of the surface streets by the stadium, traffic ground to a halt.
She rolled down her window, craning her neck to see what was causing the hold up. Then she noticed a police officer lumbering along the line of cars, illuminating the front and back seats of each automobile.
“Is everything all right, officer?” she asked, feigning concern and curiosity.
“Been a lot of drunks lately getting in accidents leaving the stadium,” he said as he stopped by her car. “Just trying to make sure we’re keeping the city’s roads safe.”
“I understand.”
The officer started to walk away and then froze. “You wouldn’t mind popping your trunk, would you?”
“Of course not,” she said as she reached for the latch.
Seconds later, the trunk flew open. He poked his head inside and then slammed the door shut. Slapping the side of her car twice, her continued down the long line toward the next automobile.
“You’re good to go, lady,” the officer said.
Shields let out a sigh of relief.
That guy would’ve never made it at as a Lowndes County Sheriff’s Deputy.
The nonchalant nature of the stop coupled with the fact that they were still performing such a check signaled to Shields that Black had evaded capture. But where he was remained a mystery.
She wanted to call him but opted to text instead in case the noise from the cell phone ring gave him away.
Using her thumbs, she pounded out the address for Brook Hill Park in Georgeto
wn and sent it to him. He wrote back and said he’d be there in half an hour.
Shields needed ten minutes to reach a nearby Chinese restaurant about two blocks from the park where Black was supposed to be. If she had her druthers, she would’ve picked him up. But traveling together made them easier to find since a full manhunt had commenced.
She dug into her purse and collected two hundred dollars for Black, along with a fake ID she found in his go bag.
After studying the menu for a few minutes, she placed an order for herself and then added a to-go order for another address. When the delivery guy prepared to leave, she grabbed him by his jacket.
“Are you the one delivering that food to the park?” she asked.
The guy scowled as he glanced down at the piece of paper with the address scrawled on it. “Yeah, I guess I am. What’s it to you?”
“Take it to the bench on the west side, and I also need you to add something else to this delivery,” she said with a wink as she handed him a small box.
He withdrew, throwing his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender. “Now, look, lady. I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t make extra deliveries for customers.”
With a folded twenty dollar bill tucked between her index and middle fingers, she waved it at him.
“It’s not illegal,” she said. “It’s just a special thank you gift for my friend.”
“Your friend? The homeless guy sleeping on the bench?”
“I know what it looks like but—”
He defiantly shook his head. “Sorry, ma’am. Not gonna do it. It ain’t that far. Deliver your own special thank you gift in person.”
“I can’t do that.”
The delivery man crinkled up his nose and glared at her. “Why not? Is your leg broke?”
“As a matter of fact, it is.” Shields sighed, hiking up her pants leg.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I—”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said before placing the money back in her purse. “I didn’t want to have to do this, but I guess desperate times call for desperate measures. Would you do it for a hundred?”
The delivery guy leaned forward, attempting to peer into her purse. She snapped it shut and glared at him.
“Did your mama ever teach you any manners? Never snoop into a woman’s purse.”
He snatched the one hundred dollar bill out of her hand. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
He grabbed the box and started to peek inside.
Shields slapped his hand. “No peeking. That’s the deal. Besides, you’re better off not knowing what’s in there.”
He rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated breath before collecting everything and spinning toward the door. Shields waited until he was gone before she strode after him. She stopped and shot a glance over her shoulder, noticing the restaurant owner holding the phone close to his ear and speaking in hushed tones. That was a stark departure from his boisterous personality he held when she first walked into the store.
Shields put her head down and walked swiftly toward her car. The pedestrian traffic along the sidewalk was nominal just after 10:30 p.m. on a Friday, but it was the weekend. She passed a Metro police foot patrolman strolling nonchalantly past her in the opposite direction. She cut her gaze toward him before bouncing it back to the ground in front of her.
Shields looked over her shoulder at the storefront window to her right, stealing a peek at the officer’s reflection. He stopped abruptly and yanked his walkie-talkie off his belt as dispatch was squawking. Shields couldn’t make out everything, but she thought she heard dispatch say “10-66”, police code for “suspicious person.”
When he finished listening to the message, he lowered it from his ear and started scanning the area. Shields picked up her pace and didn’t look back for several seconds. Then she looked behind her when she heard a woman scream.
“Hey, watch it,” she said. “You almost made me spill my coffee.”
The officer had broken into a dead sprint and was barreling straight toward Shields.
CHAPTER 26
BLACK HUNG BACK in the shadows while waiting for the delivery guy to arrive. His coms hardly had any battery life left in them, and he needed to conserve that as much as possible in the event of a true emergency. For the time being, he could communicate with Shields via texting. And as much as he needed her to help him navigate the onslaught of law enforcement beating every bush and turning over every rock to find him, Black knew she was most valuable at the moment behind her keyboard and gathering damning evidence on Gaither.
I can hold these guys off long enough for Shields to work her magic.
After a few minutes, a sloppily dressed man in his early twenties parked his car along the curb and put on his flashers. He climbed out toting a plastic bag. Black made eye contact with the guy and nodded.
“Are you—” the delivery man asked, fishing out the receipt from the bag, “Dale Murphy?”
“Guilty as charged,” Black said, trying to keep a straight face. By the serious manner in which the guy asked the question, it was apparent that he had no idea who Dale Murphy was. Black had listened to Shields talk incessantly about her dad’s favorite baseball player, someone she’d never even seen play in person. According to her, Murphy belonged in the hall of fame and was the greatest Atlanta Braves player in the history of the franchise. And she just wouldn’t shut up about it whenever the topic came up.
Black smiled as he took the food.
“She also wanted me to give you this,” the man said, handing a small box to Black.
Black nodded and thanked the man, who didn’t move. “If you’re wanting a tip, you’re gonna be standing there a while.”
The man growled as he spun on his heels and hustled back over to his car. After he was out of sight, Black returned to the shadows and opened his gift from Shields.
Perfect.
Inside the box, he found a gun, a fake ID with one of his many aliases, and a thousand dollars in hundred dollar bills rolled up tightly. He needed to find some place to lay low for the night. There were a few low-rent hotels by Washington’s standards a couple blocks north of his location.
Black ate a couple bites of his food before giving it all to a homeless man begging just outside the park on the street corner. Then Black headed for the hotel. He strolled along the sidewalk, acting casually and trying not to be suspicious. However, he recognized he needed to change tactics when he looked in the side mirror of a nearby parked car and noticed a dark SUV creeping behind him.
Black pulled his phone out, pretending as if he was answering a call. He threw his head back and feigned a laugh. But when he glanced in another mirror, he saw the agents in the vehicle easing up behind him weren’t taking the bait.
He kept walking before darting toward the park. Hurdling the wrought iron fence, he sprinted across the grass, using the shadows cast by the trees as cover. When he reached the center, he dashed to his right and back out onto the sidewalk. With no immediate signs of any agents around him, Black found an alleyway and ducked into it.
Weaving through a maze of restaurant dumpsters and cars jammed into every available space behind the buildings, Black didn’t stop until he found a good hiding spot behind a transformer and a stack of crates. He pulled out his phone and called Shields.
Come on, come on. Pick up.
The call went to voicemail. He put in his coms and spoke is a soft tone.
“Shields, do you copy?”
Silence.
“Shields, do you copy?”
Still no response.
He waited a minute before he turned off his coms and tucked them back into his pocket.
Black scanned the area, looking for an open door that would give him access to one of the nearby buildings. Everything appeared secured shut, and there weren’t any smoking restaurant workers in the alley at the moment. It was eerily quiet.
Black eyed a nearby fire escape and considered climbing it, but about the time he was ready to make
a move, a pair of FBI agents entered the area. While he considered making a run for it, Black knew they would shoot first. If he was being regarded as that dangerous of a person, no law enforcement officer would think twice about shooting him.
And even though Black was armed, he wasn’t about to kill someone who was just doing their job.
He listened as the two agents discussed their strategy.
“What are you thinking?” one of the men asked.
“He probably doubled back somewhere and is long gone,” the other man answered.
“There’s just nowhere to go here.”
“Unless he went up.”
“Briggs is checking the roofs around here in case our guy chose that option.”
“I want to do our due diligence and check this alley.”
“Want me to come with you?”
Squawking on their coms made them both stop. Black couldn’t tell what was going on as both men put a finger to their ears.
“Go, go, go,” one agent said. “I’ll make a quick sweep and meet you back at the car.”
After one of the agents left, the other man crept along the alley, his gun trained toward the ground. Black watched as the agent followed procedural methods to clear the area. As he eased behind a stack of pallets, he disappeared from Black’s line of sight. Black started to get concerned after a few seconds when the man hadn’t reappeared.
Where did you go?
Black felt the nuzzle of a gun press against his head.
“Don’t move a muscle,” the man said.
CHAPTER 27
SHIELDS RACED ALONG the sidewalk, searching for a way to turn the tables on the officer chasing her. She knew she could outrun him, but eventually he’d have help. Up ahead, she spotted a construction dumpster situated along the edge of the road. She always hated happening upon those monstrous steel trash cans while navigating surface streets, but now she was happy to see one.
Darting behind it, she crouched low and waited for the officer to round the corner in pursuit. She listened intently and heard his approaching footfalls. Gearing up for the confrontation, she grabbed hold of the handle to brace herself. The moment he appeared, she thrust her leg out in front, tripping him up and sending him sprawling across the pavement.
Behind Enemy Lines Page 12
