by Jack Parker
"Reggie? W-what the . . . what the . . .hgggnn?"
"Had to, Boss. They pay more. And you know Sasha n' me go way back."
Carlo couldn't feel his legs. His heart felt heavy, like it was going to explode. Something smelled bad. He tried to lift his gun. It felt like a two hundred pound dumbbell in his hands. Sasha strolled into view, shirtless and rubbing his bruised chest. He casually pointed his gun without even looking at Carlo, as if he already had other business to attend to. Carlo Benedetto had just enough time to wonder if anyone was ever truly on his side before the trigger was pulled and the lights went out forever.
Chapter Twenty-Six
"They just turned left onto Siren's Cove!"
Grace was practically shouting through her phone at Steve, who was giving chase on the motorcycle that Charlie had left behind. Her tone was that of an urgent plea for him to hurry and catch the limousine she was tracking with her hovercams. Inside was a woman responsible for the deaths of two police officers and who knew how many others. This dangerous woman would not get away. Grace swore it.
"Are they moving fast?"
"No they are still driving casual, but there's a lot less traffic. They'll reach the highway quickly at this rate!"
Grace watched anxiously on the central flat screen as Steve maneuvered the motorcycle along the sidewalks of Las Vegas Boulevard, avoiding the slow crawling traffic as he attempted to catch up with the limo. People shouted in surprise as they hurried to get out of his way.
"What happens if they reach the highway?" Steve asked, his voice coming in loudly over the main speakers on the room. The whine of his motorcycle was even louder, making it slightly hard to hear his words. He was now wearing a small microphone that had been detached from her main camera. It was a backup option in case a contestant's microphone system went out, and so far had never been used.
"Nothing for you, maybe. But my cameras won't keep up at highway speeds, and their control radius will run out not far north of there. You'll be on your own."
"Don't worry. I'll get to them well before then."
"And then what?"
"I don't know. I'll improvise!"
She watched him lean hard into a left turn as he cut under a bridge connecting the mirage parking garage to another casino, and accelerated down the palm tree decorated median of Sirens Cove. His bike tore through grass and shrubbery, and she winced as he cut within inches each palm tree. Meanwhile, the limo was making a leisurely right turn back to the north. It only needed to go a few blocks north, make a left, and from there Spring Mountain Road was a straight shot to the highway.
She heard police sirens on audio. An adjustment of one camera showed two squad cars had just pulled onto the boulevard behind the limo and were giving chase. Grace set a camera to follow the two squad cars and then tapped her pad, sending two cameras' as far ahead of the limo as she could, spacing them out along the suspected route to the highway. The limo accelerated and jolted as it bounced up onto the sidewalk to avoid traffic and outrun the pursuit.
Shit, don't go faster!
Grace pounded her fist on the desktop in front of her and glanced nervously toward the main door to the room. The doors bowed and retracted violently as someone worked at the lock. She spun and glanced behind her. It also sounded like someone was trying to get in through the doorway leading in from the upstairs office. That one was locked up and chained with a padlock, but Grace wondered how much more time she had before the authorities found their way in. The main door wiggled slightly open, straining against the chords she had secured them with. Her eyes went wide in panic.
"Improvise faster!" she commanded.
"Way ahead of you, sweetheart!"
Grace's main camera barely stayed behind Steve as he popped a wheelie and launched his vehicle into the pool area of another hotel. He cut along the right side of the pool, causing a waiter with drinks to tumble in with a splash. He cut past the Jacuzzi area knocking plastic chairs aside and sending annoyed looking men and women scattering. One man even threw a used dish, which Steve ducked. Her mad motorist proceeded to kick over a towel stand as he zig-zagged through more obstacles. He circled around once, lined up on the stand and used it as a ramp to launch himself over the fence and back out onto the street. He landed with a jolt within two cars of the limo as it headed north, and nearly lost control of the bike.
"You're improvising is going to get the CIA sued I trust," Grace said wryly. "And not the show. We've already had an issue with motorcycles if you recall."
"All in a day's work dear," was his reply.
The sunroof of the limo slid open. A woman in a white hoodie stood up with a . . .
Grace's eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets at what she saw.
"Oh God! Steve—"
"I see her."
There was a flash and a trail of smoke. One of the squad cars blossomed into an angry orange fireball, sending a tire bouncing far too close to Steve, who swerved around a U-Haul truck and accelerated from the median back across traffic. Another rocket grenade lanced out. This time the second squad car tried to swerve, but the impact of the grenade blew the vehicle onto its side. It slid for a few hundred feet that way and Grace could hear the sickening crunch of twisted steel as another driver slammed full on into the squad car in a rear end collision.
Steve made it alongside the limo as Angelina reloaded. Steve drew his gun to fire, but the limo driver swerved hard in attempt to knock him off the road. He was forced to accelerate ahead of the slower vehicle, cutting across its path from left to right. Angelina had been reloading and seemed to have dropped her rocket. She stooped inside to get it as Steve shot at the driver through the passenger window. The bullets embedded themselves in bullet-proof glass. He aimed for the tires as the limo made a hard screeching left turn onto Spring Mountain Road. Steve mirrored the turn, staying tight on the limo's right front quarter as he aimed for the front tires. Grace screamed a warning, and Steve lost his gun as the driver tried to smash him up against the concrete highway wall. His bike was smashed to metal scrap as he leapt nimbly from it to land prone on the hood of the limo.
"Steve!" Grace screeched. "Steve, you crazy son of a bitch what the hell?"
"Quiet Grace," Steve grunted. "Working here."
Grace bit her lip.
The limo had decelerated greatly from the impact, and with a leap and a crawl Steve managed to make it to the roof of the vehicle. He clutched at the open sunroof with white knuckles. Grace had two more squad cars on camera coming up Spring Mountain to join the pursuit about a half mile back, but the limo would reach the long curving highway entrance ramp in moments.
Angelia turned and saw Steve hanging on for dear life and drew a pistol. She appeared to be taunting Steve, relishing her kill. Grace sent the camera that had been waiting in place zooming at her head. One camera showed the other hit home, and Grace gave a small whoop of triumph as her head snapped back and she recoiled in pain. Steve tugged himself forward through the sunroof during the distraction, and Angelina flailed her arms as he tugged her down inside with him.
On Steve's audia she heard grunting, panting, sounds of struggle, and two or three curses. A gunshot went off once, twice . . .
Grace held her breath. The limo was on the entrance ramp.
"Steve?"
No answer.
"Steve? Oh, Steve please be ok."
There was still no answer, but the limo started to slow. It was pulling over!
"Steve! Talk to me. Are you ok?"
The squad cars were almost there. Grace wished desperately that she could see inside. She started to maneuver a camera to fly into the still open sunroof. There was silence, then a crackle of static.
"Everything is secure here, babe." Steve's voice boomed.
Grace fell into a seat for the first time with a heavy sigh of relief.
"I've subdued the naughty bride and secured the hostages. You were wonderful. Can you call the police dispatcher and—"
The limous
ine exploded. One moment, all had been well with the world. He was going to be ok. The bad guys had been caught. Now, in slow motion, she felt her heart shred apart with the same flaming intensity as the vehicle on her cameras. He breath left her. Her mouth hung open. Somewhere upstairs a door burst open. Footsteps ran down stairs toward her. The wires holding the main doors shut snapped. Three police officers and Detective Wrigley rushed into the room. None had weapons drawn. Grace could do nothing but stare at the screen.
Someone told her to stand up.
She did.
Someone put handcuffs on her.
They hurt a little.
Detective Wrigley studied her face, and then the burning car melting down on the highway entrance ramp flanked by two squad cars. Grace took four steps calmly. Someone lay a soft hand on her shoulder. Wrigley?
Grace could not see who. Fluid filled her eyes. She screamed.
"Steve!"
She begged the screen not to be true, she lunged for it as if it were a portal that would take her somehow to Steve's side. Someone tried in vain to hold her, her sleeve ripped in their grasp. She made it three more steps until she was recaptured. She called his name again and lunged, but many arms held her tight. They dragged her, kicking and screaming his name toward the door and toward a dark reality that it would take her days to accept.
* * *
"You're good to go, sir," announced the security guard, who handed Jake back the pass and papers he had found in the glove compartment. "Do you know where you're going?"
"Yeah I'm pretty sure," Jake said, adjusting the spy games ball cap he had found under the seat. He had also found a black windbreaker with the Spy Games logo over the right breast pocket. At least he looked the part. "I'm just running a little late."
"Shame you're running a little late. I'd hurry if I were you. Have you seen the driver of the other trick from the show? I mean, whoa."
"Oh I've run into her once or twice. She's, ah, kind of a bitch. Bit of a backstabber."
The gate guard shook his head and sighed. "Ah, that's too bad. Ain't that always how it is with the hot ones? Alright have a good one!"
The truth was Jake had absolutely no idea where he was going. He hoped that would not be evident any time soon. Fortunately, Victoria finally responded to his text as he was pulling through the gate. It was about time. He had been trying to reach her for a good fifteen minutes.
DON'T KNOW HOW YOU MANAGED TO TAKE A TRUCK. I'M COMING IN HOT. HAVE WOUNDED. FIND THE RED FLAG BUILDING BY THE FLIGHTLINE.
Jake texted his affirmative. He knew vaguely where he was going, only because every street sign on the base was clearly marked on how to get to that particular area. The legendary Air Force tactical training program was one of the primary functions of the base after all. Jake thought he had seen some kind of IMAX movie about it once.
The building was a long, rectangular single story structure not far from the main gate he had come through, and recognized by the large shield displaying a yellow targeting circle invaded by a large red triangle. Jake pulled into the empty parking lot and scanned the sky.
"Come on I'm here," he said to the sky. "Where are you?"
If they both made it through this, he and Victoria were going to have one hell of a story to tell each other—but he hated her right now for always ending up with the cooler ride. He started to feel exposed as he waited. He did not have to wait long. A single beam light approached eerily like the disembodied soul of a will-o-the-wisp. His eyes widened as he realized the fancy skycar was coming in much too fast.
Jake saw two parachutes deploy behind the car as it came within a few feet of the ground. The front landing gear snapped and the car spun and scrapped along the empty parking lot in a brilliant shower of sparks. The sound of metal shearing made Jake cringe as if someone were scraping fingernails along a blackboard.
"Victoria!" Jake called as he hurried out of the truck and sprinted across the parking lot. Victoria already had the canopy open on her own when he reached her. She seemed fine, but he could tell young Charlie was in bad shape. He heard sirens start blaring not far away. Victoria leapt from the vehicle and gave him a quick embrace and a few sharp kisses.
"I should slap the shit out of you," she said in mock anger, punching his shoulder. "You've pulled a lot of stupid stunts in the last few hours. I'd ask what the hell you were thinking, but we don't have much time. Base security took shots at me on the way in. I barely got the bloody thing down in one piece. They'll be coming. I need your help."
Jake had a million questions for her, and a million more things to tell her. He started with what he thought might be most important.
"Victoria, how did Charlie . . . why is she?"
"Long story. She'll be fine. I have her stable and the security forces will care for her. You have the weapons?"
He guided her to the back of the truck, flipping down the tailgate to show her the unboxed weapon. There were sirens coming their way, growing steadily louder as security forces scrambled to get to the crash site in mass.
"Yeah, but Vic you aren't going to believe these things. Lasers. Really freaking powerful ones. I shot one of the evil sisters with it and it tore a neat circle through four feet of concrete after blowing her fifty yards back."
"Please don't start calling me Vic. I hate it. And did you determine the range of the weapon when you used it?"
Victoria stared at the weapon thoughtfully as she spoke, running her hand over the metal casing. She unholstered her own weapon, slid the clip out, checked it, and then reclipped the weapon and cocked it with expert hands before replacing it.
"Fine, babe. I just thought we were more familiar now. And no."
He took her hands and grinned at her. She rolled her eyes.
"Ugh, babe is definitely worse. Alright, listen. I'm going after Mako and the other weapons. You have one job. Take out Carlo's plane. It will be the big blue C-130. You can't miss it."
"Take—take it out? You mean blow it up with—"
"Ugh, blimey you're thick for someone who has survived this long. Yes! Or disable it. Can you get to the top of that hanger with one of those weapons?"
"Victoria, these things are really heavy. I don't know if I can—"
She cut him off with a pouty face.
"You can do it, big, strong guy."
The sirens were almost to them, she glanced around the truck and back to him, her expression serious.
"You shoot that thing down even if I am on board. Do you understand? It does not get off the ground. Promise me."
"But . . ."
She grabbed his forearms tightly and shook him, her expression pained but earnest.
"Promise me!"
He nodded.
"I—I promise."
She kissed him. It was full of the same rough emotions on her face and full of salt. It registered as a last kiss goodbye. He watched her sprint away as he hefted the unboxed weapon onto his shoulder and made a beeline for the hanger. He tried to concentrate on the task at hand but all he could think about was whether or not he could truly keep the promise he had just made with a kiss like that still lingering on his lips.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Three bullets. That was how many shots she had left in the only remaining clip between her and Charlie. Four targets. Victoria was going to have to improvise. The ideal result would be to capture either Jessica or Mako for questioning, and incapacitate or kill the rest. Sneaking into the hangar was easy, but getting the jump on Jessica and the two men with her would be difficult from her hiding spot behind a stripped down fighter jet.
The newest target, dressed in maintenance coveralls, came running in to give Jessica a report. Victoria could not hear his words, but Jessica turned toward the two men working to fasten one of the high tech lasers to a swivel mount on a vehicle of a type Victoria had never seen before. It looked to her like a broad navy blue speedboat with wings that curved downward at the tips. This boat was not affixed to a trailer, nor did it have any w
heels. It rested on two rungs much like a helicopter jutting out from beneath the curve in the wings, but the vehicle looked much too heavy to fly. It didn't matter what it was. None of the targets or the cargo they had just loaded onto the vehicle were leaving this hangar.
"Is that thing secure?" Jessica asked the men in a loud voice. "We're moving out! The rest of the cargo is presumed to be compromised so be on your guard!"
One of the men hopped into a seat in the open-topped vehicle and fired up engines that blew dust and debris from under the machine in all directions. The vehicle whirred with a noise not unlike a large vacuum cleaner, and Victoria had to cover her ears. She watched in fascination as the vehicle hovered about four feet off the ground on a cushion of air and a strange blue glow from under the wings. It was a hovercraft of a technology far more advanced than the typical airbag technology used by the Navy.
"Get those doors open!" Jessica yelled above the noise as she climbed into a seat not far from the laser mount. "And get ready for company. Security forces are on the move!"
I've got to stop that hovercraft.
One of the men moved her way heading for the hangar door controls. Victoria made her move. She sprang from cover and shot the man at the door controls in the head, but not before he started the doors rolling apart. Victoria sprinted forward, heading toward the doors at an angle meant to cutoff the hovercraft before it could reach the open space of the tarmac.
"You have to be fucking kidding me," Victoria heard Jessica swear. "Kill her!"
The man who had reported in drew his weapon. Victoria shot him in the chest before he could bring his arm all the way up. He clutched at his wound for a moment in shock before collapsing face forward. She aimed for a third target.
Jessica sprang out of her seat, manning the laser turret and swiveling the powerful weapon her direction as the hovercraft. A solid blue beam of light lanced out toward her, and Victoria changed her angle of approach. The beam cut through the landing gear of the fighter behind her, sending it crashing to the ground. Jessica swiveled the beam after her, cutting a glowing orange gash in the side of the hangar. Parts of the structure began to buckle above Victoria as the hangar threatened to collapse. Victoria returned fire with her last shot.
