by Jack Parker
Victoria slowly zipped up the body bag the rest of the way herself, covering Robin's face. She waved a waiting paramedic forward, and the man wheeled the body away. She gestured toward the body bag as it was carted off.
"And I didn't know. If I had known maybe I could have . . ."
"What you should have done," said Steve sharply, "Is leave the damn show when you were ordered to. What were you thinking?"
Victoria opened her mouth to object, defend herself. Grace surprised herself by intervening on Kingsly's behalf. Though, she was furious at both of them.
"Oh come off it Steve!" She growled, giving him a sharp push on the chest. "Don't you dare start blaming her. Were you in charge or were you not?"
Steve hesitated. "Well I . . ."
"People are dead, Steve. If that's even close to your name. Not just innocent bystanders that you can make into a statistic, but my people. That was my contestant there in that bag. Don't you get it or do I need to slap some sense into you again? You and your CIA know-it-all's brought this all here on them. So fuck you and your excuses I—"
"No he's right!" Victoria interrupted sharply. He voice softened, saddened. "He's right. My cover was blown. I put everyone in danger by staying."
Grace stepped forward and grabbed Victoria by the collar of her fancy sleek body suit. It was hard to maintain her grip, but she yanked the real life spy almost close enough to her to touch noses.
"Nothing you did would have stopped them from gunning down my people in the control room. They wanted camera footage and I am willing to be it's all because someone . . ." Grace looked pointedly at Steve. "…suddenly got the cops involved."
"That would have been Carlo Bennedetto's doing," said Steve. "He moved up his timetable. We weren't sure who he was working with, until now. But they were not happy about his little ploy at all."
Grace released Victoria and whirled on Steve.
"What do you mean?" she snapped. "What the hell does Carlo have to do with all of this?"
Steve opened his mouth to explain, but Grace changed her mind. She knew the answer already, and hearing him speak would only make her want to throttle him.
"The murder of the first bride. She was one of them! Carlo set up all these marriages. He had that woman killed. Didn't he?"
Neither CIA agent answered her. Victoria's attention was on Charlie, was about fifty yards distant who was now being giving oxygen. Charlie had the same look in her eyes that Grace felt in her soul, the heavy burden of being hit with a terrible truth—of expecting to have a wonderful dream and finding a nightmare.
"We shouldn't be having this conversation here," Steve announced. He took Grace by the hand and tugged her with him. "Come with me. Both of you."
"It was me," Victoria said, making Steve stop.
"What?"
Victoria kept her voice low and even as held Grace's gaze.
"I killed their agent. I set this all in motion when I did that."
Grace wanted to hate Victoria, to lash out, let her know exactly who the people were whose lives she had cost. But her eyes, emerald green and shimmering with sadness, made Grace feel somehow connected to the woman, soothing her anger. Here was a woman accepting responsibility for her actions, and Grace could only imagine the weight of the burden on her heart. Maybe finding someone to blame was not what Grace really wanted right now, maybe what she really needed was—
There was a low humming and a vibration coming from a hip pocket in Victoria's suit. It also played the same musical tune her own phone did when it rang, which made the interruption just that much more annoying. Grace frowned at the phone as Victoria unzipped the compartment and glanced at the caller ID.
"I have to take this," Victoria said as she accepted the call and pressed the phone to her ear. She started to walk away, but Steve stopped her.
"Who?"
"It's Jake," She mouthed. Then into her phone she said, "What is it? I'm busy."
Grace could hear Jake's voce come through the tiny speaker loud and clear. He did not wait for pleasantries.
"Well cancel whatever it is you're doing for the show. We got real trouble."
* * *
"Jake," Victoria warned from his cell phone. "Don't try anything fool—"
"Sorry Hun, gotta go," Jake said quickly, shutting down his phone and crawling into a space under a row of cardboard boxes just as the Nigerian walked by, calling his name. Jake continued under the row and emerged on the other side. The trucks started up their engines again, and Jake could hear doors closing as the men prepared to leave.
Jake heard the click of a pistol hammer being cocked behind him.
"Don't move," said a stern voice.
Great. Just my luck.
"Thought I heard a rat, and I found a big one."
Jake recognized the voice.
"Mr. Montoya?" Jake asked, letting a little fear creep into his voice. "I was coming to try and warn you about the shipment, didn't your brother tell you?"
"My brother does what I tell him. I tell him I need some guys, he sends some guys. And now one of those guys is snooping around."
"Look," Jake dared to try and turn around, and was rewarded with a rap on the back of the head.
"Move," Julio said.
"Alright, alright," Jake said, starting to walk forward. "But really I just got lost in that maze of a warehouse and was trying to find the quickest way to you. You see Carlo has n intention of paying you. Once he leaves the country, he's not coming back."
An engine revved, and from the end of the aisle of boxes they were in he could catch a glimpse of the first of the two trucks starting to pull away as it headed out the large opening and down the loading ramp. He was running out of time if he was going to catch a ride.
"You take me for a fool?" Julio said. Jake felt a poke from the pistol in his back. "He's already paid us."
"Yeah, but how much, half of what you were owed?" Jake shot back. "Or a fraction of what you should have been paid."
"What do you mean?"
Julio sounded a little curious now. That was all Jake needed. He turned, and the gang leader let him. He was holding Jake at gunpoint with a shiny chrome plated revolver, nice piece, but also not semi-automatic or anything that would cause a problem in a moment or two. Jake inched his way toward one side of the aisle, slightly off centerline from the weapon and within reach of a top shelf pallet of boxes that was jutting out at an awkward angle.
"I mean, the weapons are so much more precious than you realize," Jake said. "Did you ever have a look at them?"
Montoya narrowed his eyes at Jake.
"Who exactly are you again?"
Behind Montoya, Jake saw the Nigerian round the corner at the end of the row, who, seeing his boss with pistol drawn, drew his own sidearm.
Great, thought Jake. Now this is going to get tricky.
A second engine revved and the squeak of parking brakes released as the second tuck began to roll forward. Montoya, suspicious as he was, couldn't help glancing over his shoulder as he noticed Jake looking behind him. It was all Jake needed.
Jake sprang upward and grabbed hold of the pallet. He swung his legs forward and kicked Montaya's weapon hand aside as he reacted to Jake's sudden leap. The gun went off, firing into the ceiling with and causing a whining ricochet that made the Nigerian cry out in surprise and duck. Jake swung his legs back down and heaved with his back against the steel frame of the shelving. Several heavy boxes came tumbling down, and Montoya cried out in surprise and pain as he was buried under several, the revolver went clattering to the concrete floor, and Jake scooped it up even as the Nigerian started firing.
Jake returned fire with two unaimed shots and sprinted for the end of the aisle. He tried to stay low and out of view behind the boxes he had just pulled down, but shots still zipped dangerously close. He rounded the corner and found the heading down the ramp, rolling away from him. He sprinted for it, hoping the driver would not notice his approach.
Someone else noticed.
More gunshots rang out. A few near misses sent concrete shrapnel and dust into the air as he managed to grab hold of the tailgate of the truck. It accelerated and he nearly tumbled over face first, but he managed to hold on as the vehicle began to drag him. He pulled himself up with pure arm strength and kicked a leg over the tailgate just as the truck reached full acceleration and exited the parking lot.
Jake smiled and waved as three members of the security team he had been a part of sprinted after him. They tried to get the driver's attention, one man even aimed to fire at the truck, but his partner stopped him.
Afraid to hit whatever is in these crates, huh?
Jake looked around the back of the truck for something to open one of the three crates riding with him. The ride was rough, and a bump in the road pitched him forward. The crates barely moved. They really were quite heavy it seemed. There were "Spy Games" stickers on the sides but no other identifying marks. There were no tools to be found.
Jake wedged himself into a corner and resigned himself to waiting out the ride. He would have to think of a way to slip out the back before they reached their destination at the Air Force base. He could only hope Victoria could do something about all this before he really tried anything foolish.
Chapter Twenty-Three
"This is crazy!" Grace was complaining. Did the woman ever stop complaining? Victoria wondered. "You are all crazy! I can't believe I'm letting you anywhere near the show or its scheduled events. I should have you arrested for . . . for . . ."
"Relax Grace," Steve said from the driver's seat. "We're not going to involving any more civilians in this. We just need one of your cars or we'll never catch them in time. Only your prop will be in any danger."
"It's a very expensive prop," Grace pointed out. "Each one of those things is around a million dollars. And that's just the current wholesale price. You can't go wrecking one."
Victoria leaned forward from the back seat of Steve's Mercedes and tapped him on the shoulder. She jerked her thumb over at Grace.
"Why are we bringing her again?"
Grace made a rude face and flipped Victoria the bird. Steve chuckled.
"I don't have enough clout to get them to release a vehicle to us without announcing exactly who we are to the whole world," Agent Kingsley. "Grace here does. Put up with her for about one more minute. See? We're here."
Steve pulled into the long crescent moon shaped drive leading behind the Mirage's famous Volcano towards its front entrance. A valet parking attendant spotted their approach and started to walk up, but Steve pulled off to the side and waved the boy off.
"Sir, you can't park here," the youngster said as the four of them began to climb out.
"We won't be but a minute," Steve said, handing the attendant a crisp twenty dollar bill. "We just came to get a closer look at the exhibit."
Victoria was already on her way over toward the exhibit, crossing the driveway toward the palm tree covered grassy area where five brand new Moller Skycar 400s were lined up and on display for the public as part of a future of transportation exhibit and show being held at the Mirage. Each was bright red, and looked something like a small bullet-shaped version of the batmobile with a closed canopy framed by four cylindrical turbine jet engines.
She was keen to put as much distance between her and Steve and Grace, who obviously had something going on between them. It wasn't just that she felt a bit like a third wheel, but Steve's general presence unsettled her. It made sense that she was not the only agent involved in the operation. It even made sense to have an immediate superior involved in the administration of the game. She just hated not knowing, and since she didn't know made it hard to trust Steve just yet. He seemed like a decent enough guy, but who was he to reprimand her when . . .
A red motorcycle cut her off before she crossed the entire drive. The rider pulled of her helmet and shook out her short blond hair. It was Claire.
"Heya," Claire said.
"Claire!" Victoria exclaimed. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Let me come with you. I can help."
"Absolutely not. You're lucky to be alive. Now go back. You should be in the hospital."
Claire got off the bike defiantly, set her helmet down, and unzipped her black riding jacket. She took off her gloves and put her hands on her hips.
"You were worse off than me. If anyone should be in the hospital it's you."
"It's my job to risk my life. You are—"
Screaming. Trouble lately always seemed to start with several people screaming. Victoria drew her weapon and sprinted past Claire toward the exhibit, where several individuals in ski masks, five men and three women brandished fully automatic weapons. Several dozen people were already on their knees with their hands behind their heads, including three security guards that had been on hand for the event. She didn't need to unmask anyone to know who was involved in this heist. Victoria had the drop on them, and she spat out the name of the leader with disgust to announce her presence.
"Mako!"
Mako turned, identifying himself to her, but wisely kept his weapon lowered.
"Ah, agent Kingsly," He said with a slight bow. "So you survived after all. I won't ask why you let whole building blow up."
"Drop your weapon, Mako, or whatever your real name is. And have all your people do the same!"
She inched forward by shuffle stepping, keeping her arms relaxed but aim firmly on Mako's head. Just give me an excuse to pull the trigger bastard. Any excuse.
Jessica, her blond hair trailing out from behind her ski mask, was easy to identify. She stepped slowly to Mako's side, weapon still in hand, but arms raised. Victoria felt her nostrils flare with hate. You too, bitch, she thought.
Jessica murmured something to Mako in Russian. He nodded. Some of the armed men began to step to strategic positions.
Can't have that.
She squeezed off a round. A man cried out as he was struck in the shoulder and spun around. He went to one knee clutching at the wound.
"Nobody move!" Victoria warned. "The next one that does gets it in the head."
Jessica addressed her in her typically pompous tone.
"You think you can take all of us with that pee-shooter, dear? Stand down. We're busy."
"I can definitely take out you and your boyfriend."
"And she's not alone!" Steve said, stepping up beside her, his own sidearm drawn.
"Well, Well," Jessica said. "So you're corrupt government actually sprang to give you some back up, Kingsly. I'm impressed. But honestly we are on a tight schedule so we'll be on our way. Don't do anything foolish."
Jessica touched her thumb to something she had hidden behind her weapon, and one of the new skycars exploded in a brilliant white hot flash of flame. More people screamed. Mako and Jessica bolted for one of the cars. The other armed gunman opened fire. Bullets zinged by her head and tore patches of lawn up in front of her. Victoria got off one shot at Mako that went wide before Steve yanked her down behind a palm tree.
"I had him!" she snarled.
"Don't be a fool, we're way out gunned!"
"Where's Grace?"
"Calling for backup!"
A security guard got up and made a run for it, trying to draw his weapon, but was gunned down before he made it three steps. His gun, freshly free from the holster, was hurled forward into the decorative vegetation. There was a whine of jet engines as one of the skycars started up, and an echoing whine as another also began to activate its engines. The car with Mako and Jessica in it angled its engines at the ground and executed a perfect vertical takeoff. Victoria fired blindly up in the air around the tree, but it was no use. She couldn't get a good shot at the car without exposing herself. Steve tugged on her.
"Come on! They're trying to flank us. We can't stay here."
One look and Victoria could see that Steve was right. Two more skycars took to the air. One of them turned to follow Mako and Jessica. The other, piloted by two men, surged forward with the canopy sti
ll open on the passenger side. That man was laying down suppressing fire from the air while a man and the woman on the round worked their way around towards Steve and Victoria's left flank.
"This is bad!" she announced to Steve under the roar of steadily approaching jets.
Suddenly the passenger laying suppressing fire cried out and clutched at his chest. He tumbled from the car and landed awkwardly on the lawn as the driver shut the door and climbed for altitude. Had Steve shot him? No. He was concentrating on the pair trying to flank them. Victoria had not heard a shot. Who?
Claire was crouched in the bushes twenty yards to their right, armed with the security guard's haphazardly thrown weapon. She was staring in cold terror at the man on the lawn reflecting on what she had just done. Nice shot, girl. Victoria thought. But pull it together.
"Claire! Get out of here. You've done enough!"
Claire's defiance and determination returned with the order. It was as if authority was such a detestable concept to Claire that her simple hatred for being told what to do was driving her forward.
"I won't let Mako get away!" She yelled back. And she stood and fired a perfect shot that took down the man on the ground as he attempted to dart from one tree to the next. Seeing this, his female partner retreated towards the Volcano.
"Jesus, that was like fifty yards with a nine mil," Steve said in awe.
"Olympic shooter," Victoria informed him. "Silver medalist."
"Only the silver?" Steve asked in disbelief.
"The team needed a rifle girl," Claire said, trotting over as the third car flew away after the others. "Pistols are my first love. They promised to let me next Olympics."
Victoria sprang to her feet, and came up with a new plan.
"I'm going after Mako and the others," she said hurriedly to Steve as she loaded a fresh clip into her gun. "You go after the one that got away. I'm betting she's the one in charge of the hostages now."
She was grateful Steve didn't argue. He only nodded and was off, sprinting after the female agent, who's silhouette could still be seen in the light of the erupting Volcano. The sound of approaching sirens confirmed Steve would have backup soon.
