by Bobby Nash
He headed for the entrance, nodding to the agents standing post as he crossed into the air-conditioned lobby. The place was a hive of activity. Crime scene techs continued their work and several of the delegates on hand for the negotiations milled about in small groups, most of them holding a drink in their hands. The biggest change was that the debris had been cleaned up from the area and a new glass barrier had already replaced the shattered one that ran the length of the bridge where a man had died only hours earlier.
“Life goes on,” Snow muttered.
“Indeed, it does,” an unexpected voice said.
Snow did not turn to greet the man standing beside him. “Mr. Salizar.”
“Is it not amazing how easily we humans are able to push past tragedy and continue on about our lives, Agent Snow? I mean, a man lost his life on this very spot yesterday, and yet they…” He pointed toward the men and women sipping their drinks, laughing, and telling stories. “They move about as though nothing out of the ordinary has happened.”
“As you said, it’s human nature. We have this uncanny ability to move beyond tragedy and get on with our lives. It’s kind of heroic when you think about it.”
“Have you had any luck tracking down the person who tried to kill me?” Salizar asked.
“Not yet. I have my people working on it.”
“I’m sure you do.”
Snow finally turned to look at the suspected terrorist. “So, knowing that the person who wants you dead is still at large, you thought it would be a good idea to take a little stroll? That doesn’t seem very smart.”
“I refuse to live my life in fear, Agent Snow. I will not become a prisoner in my room because a coward is unhappy with me.”
“I cannot guarantee your safety down here.”
“And I have not asked you to do so,” Salizar said. “My security has been taken care of already, as you can see.” He pointed to his guards who stood nearby with a scowling Jamal. “There is no need for you to worry about me.”
“Oh, I can’t help but worry about you, Salizar,” Snow said. He grimaced the second the words passed his lips. He did not want to let this man push his buttons. “It’s my job,” he added.
“So you say. It is strange you phrased it like that.”
“Oh? Why is that?”
“I am a man of resource. I had my people run a security check on you, Agent Snow.”
“Very thorough of you. I take it you found something you’d care to discuss.”
Salizar laughed. “Something like that, yes. It seems that there is no record of you working for Homeland Security prior to yesterday. How can that be?”
Snow smiled. “Clerical error, maybe?”
“Yes. I’m sure that must be it. How fortunate am I that your transfer happened just in time to thwart an attack on my life.”
“You must have been born under a lucky star,” Snow said.
“Perhaps you are right,” Salizar said with a laugh. “Good night, Mr. Snow.”
“Good night.”
Snow watched as Salizar, Jamal, and their bodyguards loaded into an elevator, stopping the woman who had been waiting for a car to wait for the next car. He followed their progress until the glass enclosed elevator car entered the tube for the higher levels and was out of sight.
“Still making friends, I see,” Brad Crosby said.
“Always,” Snow said. He looked at his friend. “It’s Daniel, right?”
“Yes. Daniel Keihall.”
“Not too smart, him coming out like this,” Snow said.
“Don’t think we didn’t all tell him. He’s a stubborn bastard; I’ll give you that. He gives his security team fits, let me tell you.”
“We’ll see how much that helps when someone starts shooting at him.”
The second elevator that serviced the upper floors came into view. “That’s my ride. I’m calling it a night. Have to be up in a few hours. The boss starts his meeting at ten.”
“You’d better grab some shuteye then,” Snow said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Snow watched his friend enter the next available elevator. Unlike Salizar, he motioned for the lady to go first. At least, he was still a gentleman.
The car started upward when the woman turned to look out the glass windows. He caught only a glimpse of her profile, but it was enough. She had changed her clothes, her hair, and her skin tone, but he recognized her as the shooter he had faced off against earlier.
“Shit!” Snow pulled the radio from his belt and thumbed the switch even as he ran to catch the elevator. It was too late to recall it. Only two elevator cars ferried passengers to the uppermost levels of the hotel. The other banks only serviced specific blocks of floors, with the tenth floor being the only common floor above the lobby where each car could stop.
“This is Snow to all units. I have possible eyes on our target. Elevators. North bank. Ascending to the forty-third floor. Do we have anyone on forty three?”
Nearby, an elevator door opened, and he took it, pressing the button for the tenth floor. He knew it was an area with meeting rooms, open spaces for parties and presentations, which is why it was open to all elevator cars. As it started climbing, he wondered what his next move would be. He was in no shape to hoof it up three flights of stairs, much less trying to climb thirty-three of them. That would have been tough for him before getting shot. Now, it was impossible. His chest ached at the thought of it.
A flurry of chatter filled his ear as agents on duty reported in. As a precaution, Agents Snow, Simonson, and Redding had agreed to station a small contingent of agents in key areas of the hotel in the event of a second attempt on Salizar’s life. Since the target was staying in a suite on the forty-third floor, they had focused on that are as their primary. However, the FBI was concerned that Salizar could have possibly been a target of convenience. Snow had disagreed, but on the off chance he was wrong, he agreed that all delegates should be offered an extra layer of protection, so they stationed agents along most of the floors. They did not have enough personnel on hand to cover every floor.
“I’ve got eyes on the elevator,” an agent said. “Two occupants. One male and one female.”
“The male is not— I repeat— is not a suspect,” Snow said into the radio.
He arrived at the tenth floor. It was empty, save for the cleaning staff straightening up after one of the many after hours parties hosted for the trade delegates.
“This is Parker on forty three. Salizar has arrived at his room. We have secured the hallway and elevator bay.”
“Target is to be considered armed and dangerous,” Snow said. “Watch yourself, Agent Parker.”
“Copy that.”
Snow bit back a curse. He needed to get up there. For a fleeting instant, he contemplated taking the stairs, but miraculously, resisted the urge.
“Is something wrong, sir?” one of the cleaning staff asked. He was pushing a cart and collecting bags from the trash receptacles.
“How did you get that up here?” Snow asked. “Freight elevator?”
“Yes, sir. We use it so we don’t interrupt the guests.”
Snow flashed his badge. “Show me.”
He followed the man to the far end of the hall. He pushed the call button and the doors opened.
“Does this go all the way to forty-three?” Snow asked.
“Yes, sir. Goes all the way from the top to the bottom.”
“Bless you, sir.” Snow pushed the button, and the car started its upward climb. He wasn’t going to beat her there, but at least he was still in the race.
“This is Snow. Be advised, I’m arriving at forty-three via the service elevator.” He clipped the radio to his belt and pulled his gun before the door opened.
Snow stepped out slowly, leading with his service weapon. The coast was clear, so he moved on. The freight elevator was at the far end of the hall, closed off by a door that led into the hallway to keep guests from being tempted to use the elevator instead of the gu
est cars. Snow pulled open the door and peered out carefully.
The hallway was empty.
“This is Snow. Anyone on forty-three? Please state your position.”
No answer.
He moved forward.
“Somebody talk to me, dammit,” Snow said.
Still nothing.
Now, he was beginning to worry.
The lights were dimmer on the uppermost floors as opposed to the levels closer to the lobby. Moonlight through the skylight cast an eerie glow on everything, but Snow paid it no heed. The alcove where the elevators dropped off their passengers was empty. The cars remained in place, and he pressed the button. The door to the first car opened. He flipped the switch that had the elevator in emergency shut down back to active and pressed the lobby button, sending it back down for his back up to use to join him. She had been smart to lock down the cars. It would take several minutes for back up to arrive now that they were moving again.
He repeated the process with the second car, sending it down as well.
He toggled the radio. “This is Snow. Elevator is coming down.”
“Copy that,” Agent Redding’s voice answered in his earpiece. “FBI has a helicopter inbound with a tact team on board. They’ll be on the roof in ten minutes.”
“Copy that,” Snow said. “I’m moving to check Salizar’s room.”
“Wait for reinforcements,” Redding called back.
“No time.”
Leaving the alcove, Snow stepped back into the corridor. As with the floors below, one side had doors into the suites. The other had a four-foot high wall that overlooked the lower levels. It was a long way down. There was no sign of anyone in the hall, so he double-timed it toward Salizar’s suite.
The door was closed. He tried the handle.
Locked.
And he was short a key.
Of course.
Snow made a command decision. He braced himself and slammed his foot into the door. It took three kicks before the heavy doorframe cracked. Two more kicks were needed before he pushed the door open. If he was wrong, the hotel could bill him.
He wasn’t wrong.
The shooter was waiting for him inside. She stood along the far wall, which sported floor to ceiling windows. The curtains were open, and the lights of the city twinkled behind her, topped off by stars in a black, cloudless night. She blended into the darkness, a silhouette against the blackness. If not for the fact that she held Owen Salizar in front of her with an arm around his neck, she would have been all but invisible. Her hostage’s white shirt stood out like a beacon in the gloom.
Snow did not see Agent Crosby, Salizar’s guards, his brother, or the Homeland Security team that had been tasked with securing this floor anywhere nearby. He did see the lights of the FBI helicopter heading toward them through the window.
“We meet again, Mr. Snow,” the assassin said.
“I told you we would,” Snow countered, buying time for back up to arrive. “By the way, I never caught your name,” he said.
“Do you really think I’m going to make it that easy for you?”
“Hey, I told you mine…”
“Rather foolish of you, wasn’t it?” she said.
“Not at all. I’m rather a fun guy when you get to know me.”
“I did enjoy our first date,” she said.
Salizar grunted something that Snow couldn’t understand with her arm digging into the thick flesh of his neck.
“Shut up,” Vanessa told her hostage.
“You heard the lady,” Snow told Salizar. When the hostage fell silent, he turned his full attention back to her. “It’s not too late to end this.”
“My employer wouldn’t see it that way. This only ends with either me or this piece of garbage dead.”
“There might be a third option,” Snow said.
“Do tell.”
“We can arrest him.”
The shooter laughed. “If you had any evidence against him you would have done that already,” she said. “As he’s strutting around right in front of you, it’s a good bet you’ve got nothing tying him to anything.”
“But I’m guessing you do. Or at least your client does. Come on, we can help each other and all walk out of here alive,” Snow said. “Nobody has to die here.”
“Would you please just shoot this bitch?” Salizar croaked.
“Shut up!” Snow said, even as the shooter tightened her grip on the man’s throat.
“You make a tempting offer, but like I told you, I’m a professional,” she said. “I’ve got a reputation to uphold. Letting people live after I’ve taken the contract isn’t good business.”
“I can protect you.”
“No. You can’t.”
The gun bucked slightly as she pulled the trigger.
Snow threw himself to the side, and her shot missed, but only by centimeters, smacking the wall behind where his face had been seconds earlier.
Salizar struggled against her grip, breaking free with a shove. The shooter regained her composure quickly, turned, and fired at the fleeing figure. Salizar screamed in pain and crashed into the couch, falling over the back before rolling to the floor.
Before the shooter could take a second shot, Snow made his move. He ran at her full speed, slamming into her like a linebacker. They impacted the wall hard enough to crack the glass.
Vanessa reacted quickly. A knee to the gut took the wind out of Snow, and he fell to the floor gasping for breath, the gun falling from his hand. She took advantage of his weakened state and kicked him in the side.
Snow gasped and rolled with the kick.
She came at him again, but this time he was ready. He grabbed her by the ankle and twisted, knocking her off balance and dropping her to the floor. He leapt atop her in an effort to pin her down, but she was hard to hold on to, and they rolled across the floor before they broke contact.
Snow fell hard to the floor, his chest tightening. Not now, dammit! his inner voice shouted. Not now! He saw his gun nearby and reached for it.
The shooter recovered faster than he did. As Snow crawled in the opposite direction, she stood, walked over to where he gun lay and scooped it up.
Snow reached his gun first.
He popped back up and fired twice.
The first shot caught the shooter’s shoulder. The second hit her center mass, slamming her backward into the thick glass of the window, cracking it further on impact.
She dropped to the carpet, leaving a trail of blood behind her on the broken glass.
Snow moved to her side, kicked away the gun, then knelt next to her to check for a pulse. It was weak. She was weak, but alive, although barely. She tried to speak, but the words came out as barely a whisper. He toggled the radio mic.
“All clear,” he called into the radio. “We’re going to need medics up here a.s.a.p. I’ve got two people down.”
“Copy that, Snowman,” Mac’s voice filtered back to him. “FBI chopper touching down on the roof now. We’ll be on site in one minute.”
“Roger that, Mac.”
Snow pulled himself up, holding onto the table for balance. He fumbled for a switch on a nearby lamp. The room came into full view as the light replaced the darkness.
“Salizar? You alive?”
“Yes,” a pained voice called out.
Snow walked over to the couch. The businessman lay bleeding on the floor from a wound in his shoulder. Based on the blood leaking into the carpet, it looked bad, but it wasn’t a fatal wound.
“It hurt?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Where are your guards, your aide?”
Salizar tried to point toward the bedroom, winced, and tried to bite back a scream of pain.
Snow went to the door. A chair had been wedged under the handle. It made for a crude but effective doorstop. “Is everyone okay in there?” he called.
“Yes. We’re okay.”
He was relieved to hear Brad Crosby’s voice.
“St
and back,” Snow said then opened the door. “If you’ve got a weapon, I suggest you leave it in there. You come out armed and you’re going out of here in cuffs.”
Erich, the angry bodyguard, was the first one through the door. He ran to his employer’s side to tend to his wound. He sported a bruise to the side of his head that was beginning to purple. Snow would have been surprised if the man had gone down without a fight.
Jamal was next and also ran to his brother’s side, but his eyes were focused on the downed shooter.
Crosby was the third one out the door. He was uninjured. Snow had been worried that the shooter would have taken him out after using him to gain entry into the suite. He was happy to see she hadn’t.
“Medics are inbound,” Snow informed him. “ETA is…”
“FBI! Agent Snow?” The call came from outside the door.
“All clear,” Snow said.
The lead agent stepped in, fitted head to toe in body armor, weapon at the ready. “We’re secure,” he said once he was inside. Lock down the corridor.”
Snow pointed to the bleeding Salizar and shooter.
“We’ve got two bodies down, both require medical attention.” He listened as the response came through his ear piece. He looked at Snow. “Medics are thirty seconds out.”
“Thank you,” Snow said.
“My pleasure, Agent Snow. Agent MacClellan would like a word with you outside, please.”
“Understood. It’s all yours.”
Snow stepped out into the hallway and let out a breath.
“You okay?” Mac asked once they were alone.
“Peachy.” It was a lie, and they both knew it.
“Was it our friend from earlier?”
“Yeah,” Snow said. “It’s her.”
“I guess she didn’t take your warning to heart, huh?”
“I guess not.” He looked back toward the suite.
“You kill her?”
“No,” snow said, shaking his head. “Came close though. Any idea who she was or who hired her yet?”
Mac shook his head. “Not yet. She’s good, so we may never know. At least now, we can get her prints. That will help.”
