Snow Falls

by Bobby Nash

  The client had provided a schedule of the events happening within the hotel. Included in that schedule was a list of times and locations that the sniper used to scope out all of the possible angles until the right one presented itself. There were many things to keep the sniper’s mind on task. Using the scope to check out the security personnel on site helped Vanessa map potential reprisal zones where security might notice the muzzle flash and take a shot. Security was tight but not tight enough. Although there was a federal presence in place, most of the guns inside the hotel belonged to private security firms.

  She held little fear of them. All that mattered was spotting and eliminating the target to the client’s specifications. Although she preferred the up close and personal approach of a knife to the heart, her client was paying for a very public execution, so that meant becoming a sniper. Guns were not her preferred implements of choice, but she was proficient with them. The sniper’s ultimate firing position would depend greatly on which elevator the target chose.

  A true professional, Vanessa hated leaving variables open to chance, but with the client’s insistence on no collateral damage, some aspects were left to the whims of fate or subtle misdirection. To that end, the sniper had taken steps to cut down the number of choices of elevator. Each section of floors only had a limited number of options. Placing a few drops of deer urine in one of the elevators made a ride in that enclosed space rather unpalatable. Knowing the target, he would wait for another car to arrive before riding in a smelly elevator car. It was five dollars well spent at the local outdoorsman store.

  Vanessa was ready. All she needed was the signal.

  As if on cue, the cheap burner phone vibrated on the floor nearby.

  She flipped open the phone and read the text. It was a simple message. Coming down.

  It was time.

  Vanessa pocketed the burner and scooped up the equipment stashed nearby and began assembling her rifle. The target was on the move.

  It wouldn’t be long now.

  • • •

  Abraham Snow wasn’t the superstitious type.

  That said, spending so much time undercover, always under the threat of being found out, had made him sensitive to his surroundings. It was little more that intuition, a hunch that started as a tickle at the back of his brain. He had learned to listen to those hunches. More than once, they had saved his life.

  Standing in the middle of the lobby of that beautiful five-star hotel, surrounded by enough security to protect a small nation, that familiar warning made itself heard. Whatever it was that set him on edge wasn’t readily apparent. Maybe his subconscious had picked up on something that his conscious mind hadn’t yet detected. He couldn’t explain it, but there was danger lurking nearby. He scanned the floors above. The rooms ran down both sides of the hotel. There were no rooms along the front or back walls, save for the lobby and business center areas. Two restaurants, a copy shop, convenience store, coffee shop, a bar, the lounge, and a newsstand filled those spaces. Hallways lined the walls on the floors with guestrooms all the way up to the forty-seventh floor where the suites were located.

  Nothing looked out of place, but the sensation of danger nagged at him.

  The building was packed with people from all of the delegations on hand for the conference, their security personnel, local and federal law enforcement, not to mention the people who worked in the hotel. There were easily thousands of people around with small groups clustered on each floor. The elevators zoomed toward the upper floors and back down quickly, packed full of delegates for the conference. He recognized some of them, but before returning home, there hadn’t been a lot of time to keep up with world news unless it pertained to his case. He wasn’t even sure what the ultimate purpose of this conference was to accomplish since he wasn’t even aware of it until his grandfather shanghaied him there under false pretenses.

  The latest session was just starting to break up. The doors opened, and the room that had been quiet erupted with the murmur of several dozen conversations overlapping one another. A few delegates left quickly but most stayed inside for more intimate group conversations and side negotiations.

  “You done?” Snow asked Sammy as she walked up to him, her assistant trailing in her wake.

  “Not even close,” she said. “Our next session starts in a few minutes. I’ve been negotiating with this guy for months, and we’re not really getting anywhere. I thought I’d meet him at the elevator and try one last shot at charming him before we start arguing in there.”

  “Don’t let me hold you up,” Snow said. “We’ll talk later.”

  She smiled. “See you in a bit. Come along, Matthew,” she told her assistant.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  As soon as she was gone, Tom McClellan walked over to Snow with both Archer and Douglas Snow just a few steps behind. “Your sister sure is something,” he said.

  “Yeah. Married.”

  “Oh, come on, Ham. What kind of asshole do you take me for?” Mac said.

  “Be glad you didn’t ask me,” Archer added.

  Doug and Archer laughed at the FBI agent’s discomfort, but not Snow. His gaze swept the floors above the lobby as though he were looking for something.

  “I know that look,” Mac said. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know, Mac. Something’s just… not right. I can’t put my finger on it,” Snow said. “There’s something… off. I just don’t know what.”

  “This place is about to fill up fast, Snowman. The next session starts in about fifteen minutes.” He took a step closer. “Unless you can give me a good reason to lock it down. There’s still time to keep the rest of those people in that room, but I can’t sound the alarm without a damn compelling reason.”

  Snow was about to say more when an elevator arrived. The security force, four men wearing black jackets over black suits with black ties flanked an older man wearing a white suit and his aide, wearing a gray suit. Another man dressed in a black business suit was also with them. Snow immediately recognized a familiar face in the crowd as his sister walked over and shook hands with the man in white.

  “What the hell is Owen Salizar doing here?” Snow said.

  “Somebody I should know?” McClellan asked.

  “Owen Salizar owns Salizar Biotechnix,” Archer Snow said before his grandson could answer. “It’s a worldwide biochemical corporation, if memory serves. Big money. Lots of influence in these negotiations.”

  “Sam tells me he’s been the biggest holdout in the negotiations,” Douglas added. “He wants to get a lot but not give anything in return.”

  “I know the type,” Snow said without taking his eyes off the conversation between the businessman and his sister.

  “Sounds like another rich prick to me,” McClellan noted. “Especially in that suit.”

  “You have no idea,” Snow said. “It’s not widely known, but the U.S. believes that Salizar actively supports multiple terrorist groups and militant governments in exchange for business favors. He was on our watch list while I was under cover. Since he’s here, I’m guessing that’s been lifted or Homeland Security would be all over this place. We had leads against his company but nothing actionable. Intelligence believes that his company is a front for laundering cash for several militant groups across the globe. I was tapped to go in as a UC in his company, but the assignment I was on took a turn, and I couldn’t get away, so the mission went to someone else. What they hell is he doing here in the States?”

  “He’s here for the negotiations with your sister’s client,” Archer said.

  “Salizar Biothechnix is scheduled to meet with Sam and her team during the next round of negotiations,” Douglas said. “As you can see, they’ve met.”

  Snow felt his chest tighten. The thought of his sister being in the same room with Salizar was painful. “That man is a monster. What are they negotiating?”

  “The details are hush-hush,” Douglas said. “Salizar and his brother are both major play
ers in whatever it is they’re working on in there.”

  “Is he what’s got your gut twisted into knots?” Mac asked.

  “No. I didn’t even know he was here until now.” Snow said. “This feeling’s been gnawing at me for awhile now.” He looked around the open space again, taking in the entire lobby. “Something is… off. I can’t think of a better way to describe it.”

  “His Spidey-Sense is tingling,” Mac joked.

  “That’s as good a description as any,” Snow said, still looking for anything out of the ordinary. That’s when a small spark or reflection from above caught his attention. “There,” he said but didn’t point. “Third floor. Last room on the end to your left.”

  “I don’t see anything,” McClellan said.

  “What’s going on?” Archer asked.

  “Trust me, Mac. It’s there. I think we’ve got a visitor.”

  “Okay.” McClellan toggled his radio mic. “This is McClellan at zone alpha. We have a potential security breach. Keep everyone in the ballroom until we’ve checked it out. Send units three and five to the west-end side of the third floor above check in.”

  “Make sure your client stays put, huh?” Snow whispered to his grandfather.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Maybe nothing.”

  “I know you better than that, kid,” Archer started.

  “Please,” Snow said. “Doug, make sure they stay put.”

  “You got it,” Doug said, taking his grandfather by the arm. “What about Sam?”

  “I’ll get her.”

  Archer made his way back to the room, unhappy about being sent out of harm’s way but content in keeping his client safe. As soon as he was out of earshot, McClellan shrugged.

  “What are you thinking, Ham?”

  “Shooter, maybe? Or it could be nothing. It’s just a feeling. I need to get Sammy.”

  Together, they started walking toward the over walk bridge toward the elevators, acting casual.

  “If it is a shooter, who’s the target?” Mac asked.

  “Your guess is as good as mine. This place is full of high profile targets. Any of them could be on a hit list. Or I could be wrong.”

  “I can’t chance it,” Mac said. “I’ve got to sound the alarm.”

  “Do it. I’ve got Sam,” Snow said, but it was too late.

  The first shot sounded like a firecracker, the pop echoing off the concrete and steel. Snow caught a hint of the muzzle flash as the shooter fired, and in that moment, he knew who the target was. He started moving before he was even aware of it—

  —but he was too late.

  The sniper’s bullet hit the black-clad security guard two steps ahead of Owen Salizar in the chest, spinning him around before dropping his body to the marble floor on the bridge leading from the elevator alcove to the lobby. Everything happened so fast that the screaming hadn’t even started before Snow hit the bridge.

  He vaulted over the fallen guard and slammed into his sister and Owen Salizar, knocking them back against the remainder of his security force as they rounded the corner out of the alcove onto the bridge. He pushed them to safety, protecting Sam’s body with his own as a second shot echoed around them. The second bullet shattered the waist-high glass wall that ran along the sides of the bridge where Salizar, the target, would have been standing if Snow hadn’t intervened.

  “Who the hell are you?” the first security guard to recover shouted. He was a big man, his face reddening in anger.

  “You’re welcome,” Snow said as he got back to his feet. “Keep your heads down! Sam, you stay low!” He pressed himself against the wall before the sniper fired again.

  He didn’t have to wait long.

  With the target out of the line of fire, the sniper switched from single shot to full automatic and opened fire, raining a hail of bullets across the lobby, focusing on the area near the elevators. Glass shattered and concrete debris filled the air as people ran for cover. Pandemonium reigned, which made it hard for the FBI and security teams to mobilize.

  Instinctively, Snow reached for the gun that he had grown used to carrying on his hip, but there was nothing there. The last thing he had expected when he left that morning was to find himself in a gunfight. He would have to rethink his notion of what a quiet lunch with his grandfather meant next time the old man made the invitation.

  “I need a weapon,” he told the angry security man.

  “I don’t think so,” the guard said, shaking his head. “I have no intention of giving you a weapon of any kind.”

  There was no time to argue with the man. Snow knew where to find a gun. The fallen guard’s weapon was still holstered just a few feet away, which could have easily been twenty miles with a sniper targeting him. It was a sure bet that Salazar’s security wasn’t going to help— a fine thing as he’d just saved their lives, not to mention the life of their boss. He needed a distraction.

  He got it in the form of Tom McClellan and two other FBI agents.

  Mac and another agent took position behind the island bar that sat in the middle of the lobby. The third flattened against a column along the wall that was just wide enough to offer cover. None of them had a good angle on the shooter, but they did have weapons.

  They used them.

  “Stay put,” Snow told his sister.

  She nodded.

  The agents opened fire in the general direction of the sniper.

  As soon as the first shot was fired, Snow was on the move. Taking off from a crouch, he pulled the dead guard’s gun from his holster then dove over the body into a roll that brought him up on his back the gun leveled on the attacker’s position. He squeezed off three shots in rapid succession. Two smacked the concrete barrier, but the third hit flesh. It was just a graze but enough to take the sniper out of position long enough for the FBI teams on the third level to move in.

  Snow didn’t hang around to watch. He got to his feet and ran back to his sister’s side. “You both okay?”

  “Uh huh.” Sam was clearly in shock, but neither she nor her aide appeared to have been injured, other than a few scrapes and bruises from his flying tackle. Her aide nodded that he was okay.

  “Okay, we’re going to get you out of here. Ready?”

  They both nodded.

  “Mac!” Snow shouted, and his friend gave him the thumbs up.

  Snow and his charges ran across the bridge at full speed just as the agents opened fire on the shooter’s position. Salizar and his men were a step behind. “Go! Go! Go!” Snow shouted and sent them into the conference room where Douglas and Dominic were guarding the door. They were both armed, and Snow knew they could handle themselves.

  Above them, the stairwell door opened, and two FBI agents ran toward the sniper’s last known position. Most shooters Snow had known were excellent shots at a distance but up close and personal tended to be another matter. Unless he had misread the situation, the only course left open to the sniper was to run.

  And that’s exactly what happened.

  The sniper leapt over the waist high barrier. It was a straight drop from the third floor to the lobby, but there was a lounge area even with the second floor that overlooked the lobby and the open lower levels. It was a long jump, but the sniper had an escape plan in place.

  Snow got his first good look at the sniper. The shooter was wearing a housekeeping smock disguise. The would-be assassin hit the mark, landing in a roll on the carpet of the deserted lounge. The sniper was up and on the move almost immediately.

  So were Snow and Mac.

  “She’s heading for the mall!” Snow shouted, already running after her.

  Mac was only a step behind him. “She?”

  “Sniper’s a woman!”

  They lost sight of the target as the sniper ran down the winding trail that connected the hotel to adjacent office buildings and the food court at the mall. The normally crowded corridor was mostly empty with the heightened security for the negotiations.

  Mac was o
n his radio, shouting orders to the rest of his team as he ran. “I want a perimeter around the hotel and the mall! Now! Go! Go!”

  The sniper was fast, and Snow had trouble keeping up with her, especially with the tightness growing in his chest. His wounds were only recently healed, and his doctor had warned him repeatedly to take it easy. Getting into a gunfight and foot chase probably weren’t what he had in mind. This much exertion wasn’t good for him, and he knew it, but he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t let her get away.

  He headed up the ramp leading to the habit trail tunnel that crossed above the street into the food court of the Peachtree Center Mall. Once there, the sniper could disappear down any number of open avenues, including the street below. Normally, he would stop before rounding a blind corner and check to make sure he wasn’t walking into an ambush, but in his haste to close the gap between him and his quarry, he barreled headlong into the tunnel without checking.

  It was a rookie mistake.

  One that almost cost him his life.

  The shooter had stopped halfway down the tunnel and dropped to one knee. She fired as soon as Snow entered the tunnel, but with both of them moving, she missed, but only just barely. Her first shot cracked the thick glass inches away from his face. He felt a splinter knick his cheek. The second bullet smacked off the concrete wall beneath the glass. The third bullet zipped past his head, a little too close for comfort, and ricocheted off the wall behind him.

  Before he could return fire, Mac was there, pulling him out of the line of fire as the assassin fired again, just narrowly missing her target as the two men tumbled into the connecting alcove that dead ended at an elevator that accessed the street level below.

  “You go down and across,” Snow said, depressing the call button. “I’ll follow this way. Hopefully, we can cut her off.”

  Agent McClellan started to argue, but then thought better of it. “Be careful,” he said instead. “I’ve got my guys closing down the mall. She might double back. I’d prefer to take her alive, but if you have to put her down, do it. There’ll be no blow back on you. I promise.”