He looked around the truck with fresh eyes. There were five of them, plus himself, the driver, and Mur. He couldn’t think of any means to derail the mission, given how outnumbered he was, and if the situation devolved into a shootout, he might cause the death of innocent people, not to mention put himself in the line of fire from both sides. Plus, he didn’t want them to have the artifacts, and it was always possible he could find a way to prevent it. Maybe luck would be with him and the guards would catch some of the others and improve the numbers.
No, I’ll have to ride this out and try to escape after. He resisted the urge to verify that his pistol was in his pocket and wished he hadn’t insisted that Tommy Ketchum was a handgun-only kind of criminal.
The van stopped and Randall led the way out the back. Sloan followed, closed the door quietly behind him, and trailed the other man into the bushes beside the road. The federal evidence facility was at the end of a long dirt track bounded on both sides by grass and shrubs. Its security relied on the high metal fence topped with razor wire around the perimeter, on the guards who patrolled inside, and on the checkpoint he and Randall currently headed toward. Sloan considered shooting him to put the base on intrusion alert, but that risked him being immediately pursued by both groups without ensuring the artifacts would stay safe. He shook his head. Wait. The time will come.
He moved in a crouch behind his partner and they approached the guard, who had stepped out of his shack to talk to the driver. Randall raised his weapon and Sloan pushed it down, placed a finger to his lips, and took the lead. He crept up unseen, put the sentry in a headlock, and squeezed down sufficiently to cut off the blood flow but not enough to kill him. Randall helped control the man’s struggles by wrapping him in a bear hug and together, they wrestled his unconscious form into the guard post. Sloan triggered the button to raise the barrier so the van could go through, then returned it to its former position and ran to jump through the now open rear doors. Behind them, Randall stepped into his role of impersonating the gate guard, wearing the man’s shirt and hat.
Well, at least that’s one innocent who might survive this debacle. I hope his friends return the favor if we run into them. The van continued to the building and made a two-point turn to back against the loading dock. The team emerged soundlessly, and Sloan stepped beside Mur. The big man pointed at the team member closest. “You’re with us. The rest of you go counter-clockwise. We’ll go clockwise. Find any guards, take them out silently, and look for the boxes. You have the numbers, right?” Everyone nodded. Sloan didn’t have them, but he decided the assumption all along had been that he would accompany Mur.
Randall spoke through a crackle and hiss over their headphones. “Incoming. I let them through the gate. It’s a delivery.”
Murray gestured quickly and the three of them ducked behind a pile of nearby boxes. Hopefully, on the far side of the building, the other team had done the same. Sloan peered around to see what was going on. The new arrivals entered through a side door carrying crates of evidence, accompanied by loud laughter, crashing, and banging. One of the guards on duty arrived to direct them, and the agent kept his head down and prayed for things not to go wrong. It would be exactly like a classic cop movie if I was killed in this damn warehouse after I’d already received the signal to get out. He breathed a sigh of relief when the guard checked the paperwork with the delivery driver and turned to hold the door open for them to leave.
At that moment, one of the idiots in the other team lost his cool and the first indication of trouble came when a rifle spat bullets in a staccato series. The barrage stitched through the guard and peppered the side of the building to leave scattered holes. Mur, Sloan, and their partner looked at one another for a shocked moment before they darted out from behind their boxes toward the action. Another two guards had joined the fight and now fired at the other squad from a distance, while the two who had made the delivery found their own cover to assist the defenders. It was a momentary standoff and Sloan muttered to Murray, “We’re on the clock now. Someone’s sure to have called it in.” He hoped the other man would decide to abandon the operation—hoped it with all that he was worth—but naturally, he chose the opposite approach.
“Then we need to kill these bastards quickly and get our job done. You two go right, I’ll go left.” The agent took the lead and tried his utmost to slow their progress while he looked for a way to turn the situation, but nothing presented itself. By the time they reached the far side, two of their men were bleeding out on the floor and all the defenders had fallen, some wounded and the others dead. Murray paced furiously for a minute and vented his anger in a series of yells. One of the guards’ radios crackled with the news that backup was on the way.
The big man turned to the team, his demeanor suddenly calm and businesslike. “Randall, come on in and ride shotgun in the van. Sloan and I will search over there.” He indicated the left part of the building. “You two take the other side. We have seven minutes, then we’re out of here. Find something worth stealing so this whole effort isn’t wasted.”
Chapter Nineteen
They circled the stacks while Mur called codes out as they advanced and Sloan checked the boxes. When the first few numbers of the sequence matched, they’d stop and check the rest but progress was slow. The crates were arranged like the blocks of a city, with a grid of passages spaced between them. They rested on shelves that reached six feet high—which seemed stupid in the multi-story warehouse—but it fit with the overall sense that the building was an impermanent installation, some kind of overflow facility or temporary storage rather than a final destination.
The other group shouted that they’d discovered something, and while Mur’s mood lightened noticeably, he pushed them forward as fast as he could go. They were near the back of the space when Randall announced, “Two minutes left. We need to get the hell out of here.” The others reported that they would return to the van in the same moment that Mur noticed a crate that matched his numbers. He turned with an excited look and said, “Tommy, help me pull this down.” Sloan complied, not knowing what else he could do, and they set the heavy wooden box on the floor.
He looked over his shoulder. “Mur, we should really start moving toward the exit. You heard him.”
The man in black shook his head as he removed a small crowbar from his belt. “Randall’s a worrier. If he says two minutes, it’s actually at least four and probably six. That’s why I left him at the guard post.” He wedged the lever under one side and pushed it down, then repeated the process as he circled the crate until the lid was no longer attached. He shoved it open, and both men peered inside.
A thick grey foam sheet contained cutouts where objects had lain. Sloan had no idea what artifacts looked like, but from the way his partner paled, he guessed the other man did. He stared with bewilderment on his face. “What the hell?”
The agent shrugged. “Wrong box?” he suggested weakly.
Mur shook his head before suddenly, he raised it. “The witch was right. We do have a leak. They found out about this before we got here and took the good stuff out. But how? It was only the six of us who knew about it.” His voice trailed off and Sloan jumped in quickly.
“Maybe the base is bugged again—you know, like last time?”
The leader shook his head and took a step away. “It’s checked daily. There’s no way they could have overheard our conversation in the office. No, it couldn’t be Sarah, and it’s not you or me, so it must be one of the others.” He shoved the crowbar back in his belt and drew his gun. “And I’ll make sure the traitor pays before we leave this warehouse.”
He was on the verge of trying to talk him out of it when his talent activated unexpectedly. The words inside Mur’s head seemed to voice themselves in his mind as if the man had spoken out loud. “I don’t know why you did it and I don’t know how you could have done it. This is the greatest betrayal of all. I thought we were friends, Tommy.” The warning gave him an instant’s notice, barely eno
ugh time to act as the pistol swept toward his face. He lunged, rammed his body into the other man’s, and drove forward with all his strength. One palm covered his attacker’s mouth, and he slammed a punch into Mur’s wrist to deaden the nerves of the hand holding the gun. The blow jolted the weapon aside as the man’s finger squeezed on the trigger and the sharp report set Sloan’s ears ringing. Shit.
He landed on top of the bigger man and delivered a nasty head butt to his face, stunning him. A quick kick dislodged the gun, but as he turned to knock Mur out, his assailant’s fist connected with his temple and he tumbled to the side. He forced himself quickly to his feet to find his opponent had done the same and now gripped the crowbar in his still-functioning hand, his knuckles white around the metal. Mur yelled, “Ketch is the traitor. Help me kill him.”
“Damn it, Murray, it did not have to go down like this.” He said the words as he attacked again, ducked under the wild swing with the crowbar, and delivered a one-two punch to his opponent’s solar plexus and his jaw. The man collapsed again, and Sloan drew his pistol and aimed it at him.
Mur glared at him and rage and betrayal warred for supremacy in his expression. “How could you, Tommy? What did they offer you?”
He shook his head. “It’s not your fault. This is what I do.” He held the weapon trained squarely on the downed man and his finger tightened.
I can’t do it. He released the trigger with a sigh. “Stay down. Don’t follow me, or I’ll have to kill you. Tell the others the same. If anyone follows, they die.” He broke into a run toward the back of the building as gunshots rang out from the middle of the warehouse. One raised the hair on his neck as it passed a little too close for comfort and he heard the ricochet of another as he cut hastily into a side lane.
Mur bellowed, “Let him go. We need to get out of here,” but he had no way of knowing if the others would obey. He slammed the door as he exited, heard the sirens nearby, and focused solely on not getting swept up with the others who would definitely kill him before they reached the safety of a police station.
Sloan sprinted toward the front of the facility, keenly aware that the only way he could escape the fence was through the sentry gate. He slid into cover when he reached it and waited for the cars to pass. They were converging on the warehouse, and as he had no idea of the status of the men he’d entered with, he had to stay hidden from both sides. He scampered through when the moment presented itself and broke into a run to angle away from the building, remaining half-crouched and low in the grass so no one would see him.
After a mile, he judged he was safe from anything other than a K-9 unit, and he hadn’t seen or heard one. Hopefully, the authorities are still busy with the Remembrance folks. He sank to the ground, bone-tired but strangely happy. Sometimes, his undercover gigs ended with sadness and loss and he knew without a doubt he’d miss the Mur he’d befriended, if not the Mur who’d tried to kill him. But leaving this assignment would be a pleasure. He sent the message indicating he was clear, including the code words that verified he wasn’t under duress, and waited for the cavalry to come and pick him up. Finally, after such a long time, he could go home.
Chapter Twenty
For what felt like the first time in forever, the entire ARES team was together again. Bryant had even portaled in from DC for the occasion. Diana sat at the head of the rectangular table with her boyfriend at her left and Sloan at her right. Kayleigh claimed the chair next to the undercover agent and looked equal parts giddy and relieved that he was finally out. It’s good that she can set down whatever guilt she’s carried over this since it wasn’t deserved in the first place.
They’d taken over the back room of a downtown restaurant for the evening, one Diana ate at often enough to know the owner reasonably well. The woman had been more than willing to let them use the space and to keep nosy people out of their affairs while they were there. The remainder of the team was seated around the table, passing plates of Middle Eastern food and teasing and joking with each other.
She turned to Sloan and spoke quietly so her voice wouldn’t carry beyond him. “So, let’s take care of business first. What do we need to know about the witch?”
He rolled his neck and took a moment to collect his thoughts. After almost an entire day asleep, he seemed in much better shape than when they’d picked him up the night before. He’d shaved the remnants of his character off—aside from the longer hairstyle, which actually looked good on him. There was an ease about him she hadn’t seen since the team’s Face had gone undercover. “First, she’s crazy. And I don’t mean that in the typical sense of the word. The woman is literally, certifiably, insane. I can’t say whether she was before she was banished to that other world or whatever, but she came back broken. Since then, the damage has only gotten worse. With her in charge, there’s no real way to guess what they’ll do.”
She nodded and Bryant asked, “Do you think we could end the threat if we eliminated her?”
Sloan considered the question for a moment before he shook his head decisively. “She wants everyone to believe she’s the highest authority, but I don’t buy it.”
Kayleigh invited herself into the conversation. “She’s not. We’ve heard her taking orders from someone. Maybe you should listen to the tapes and see if you can get anything extra out of them that we haven’t.”
There was a surge of laughter from the far end of the table, and Tony wore the pleased look that signaled successful delivery of one of the punch lines he always had near to hand. She smiled at him, and he returned it before he turned to the people around him to start another of his exaggerated stories. She faced Sloan again. “So, other than Sarah, what’s essential for us to be aware of?”
The team’s Face took a sip of his champagne—Cara had insisted that celebrations required champagne, and who was she to argue?—and leaned back with a sigh. “The human leader, Murray, is a good guy, for a criminal. He wants to do as little harm as possible, I think.” She saw from the way his face twisted that saying the next part was hard for him. “It may be something we can exploit. I don’t know if he’ll be able to bring himself to turn on the group, but if things go south, he might be willing to surrender rather than fight to the death.” She nodded, encouraging him to continue. “The other humans in the gang are standard petty criminals. We have nothing to fear there except their numbers and a seemingly endless supply of replacements.”
Kayleigh interrupted, “Do you know where they come from?”
“No. I honestly have no idea. Marcus and Murray kept that to themselves. I can say they never seemed concerned about it at all.” The tech shot Diana a frustrated look and clearly had hoped for confirmation—or, more likely, refutation—of their concern about independent cells operating in the city. Sloan continued without noticing the silent exchange. “The magicals, on the other hand, seem a little harder to come by. I think that’s why Sarah sent the humans out on their own for the last op. She’s worried about losing her power base. Although, with Mur as their leader, it’s not like there’s a threat from them the way there was before.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. The games going on are all very mysterious.”
“To some degree, that’s because we’ve managed to eliminate a couple of their leaders so far,” Bryant suggested. “Losing top people is bound to throw any organization into chaos.”
Diana slapped him on the arm. “Yeah, so you boss types need to take care of yourselves.”
“I’m not the one with a prize on their head.”
Sloan’s voice was incredulous. “What?”
She sighed. “It appears our crazy witch enemy has put hits out on Cara and I. Bounty hunters have already made an attempt on her and managed to kill her motorcycle.”
“Ouch. She loves that bike.”
Kayleigh rolled her eyes. “Yes, the inanimate object is the important part of the story. Never mind the whole almost dying thing.”
He laughed. “I’m merely saying I wouldn’t want to be the person who sho
t it when she catches up to them, that’s all.”
They all joined him in laughter and when it subsided, Diana lowered her voice again. “What do you know about their artifacts? Why have they focused on gathering them?”
The agent shook his head. “The highest-level information is all kept from us, so I can’t be sure. But Murray mentioned something about preparing for a big event and the need to gather resources beforehand. I can only assume that’s what they plan to use them for.”
Bryant drummed his fingers on the table. “If they’re seeking and finding artifacts to empower all the subordinate magicals, it could make them extraordinarily dangerous.”
“That’s been their MO since the beginning, really, so it’s unlikely they’d change now,” Diana added. “But it is concerning. Sloan, did you hear them mention the kemana?”
He shook his head. “I think they’re done down there, for now at least. Sarah hasn’t mentioned it, anyway, and Mur didn’t say anything about it, either.”
“Well, that’s something.”
“How close are they to pulling off whatever the big thing is?” Kayleigh asked.
Sloan shrugged. “I’d say more than days but less than months. No one seems really sure and they seem to be in a holding pattern. But we definitely need to move with our preparations, regardless.”
The tech sighed and looked away like she didn’t want anyone to see her reaction. Diana put her head in her hand, the champagne warmth transforming into a headache. “So, what would you recommend we do? We’ve all discussed strategies to deal with the Remembrance until we’re tired of looking at one another, but you haven’t been around. What’s your read on the situation?”
He straightened and looked thoughtful. “I think we need to continue surveillance, that’s a given. If we can identify and disrupt more of their small operations, that would be a win. It might be worth dropping a new round of bugs into the warehouse simply to unsettle them. Basically, anything that increases the emotional pressure on Sarah will make her less logical and more unpredictable. Maybe it’s possible to pressure her into a mistake or something.” He shook his head. “All of that is dangerous, though, because she’s so volatile. There’s no way to know how she’ll turn at any given moment. We have to be prepared for anything.”
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