Aim And Fire r5-3

by Cliff Ryder

  “I’ve got one more thing to take care of. You got keys to a vehicle?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  Tracy scanned the corridor for her pistol, finding it a few yards away. “Hand them over.”

  “What?”

  “Listen, Officer, the man behind this entire plan, who almost destroyed half of the United States, is about to get away if I don’t stop him. I’d hate to have to tell my superiors—and yours—that he got away because I couldn’t get a vehicle. Now hand over those keys, dammit!”

  Stunned by her commanding tone, the officer produced the keys. “The truck is out by the back entrance to the compound. Two doors down, turn right, go past the huge room and out the back—you can’t miss it.”

  “All right. If your superiors ask, Agent Tracy Wentworth commandeered your vehicle. If they want to make an issue of it, have them contact the FBI. Who’s your commanding officer, so I can let them know who to expect to hear from?”

  “Lieutenant Marcus. Uh, ma’am, shouldn’t I accompany you, for reinforcement?”

  Tracy was already trotting down the hallway. “Thanks, Officer, but you’ll probably be in enough trouble as it is.”

  Besides, I’m not planning on capturing him alive, she thought.

  Following the officer’s directions, Tracy quickly made her way out of the main building, flashing her badge at any SWAT or Border Patrol agent who even looked at her.

  Another minute brought her to the armored vehicle, which was being guarded by another officer.

  “You Collins?” she asked, reading his name tag on his shirt pocket.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Tracy showed her DHS badge again. “Your commanding officer, Lieutenant Marcus, is here. He wants to see you inside. I’ll keep a watch out here.”

  “Thanks.” He jogged inside, and as soon as he was out of sight, Tracy got into the truck, turned the key, strapped herself in, flicked on the headlights and gunned it into the desert.

  The trip through the barren land was much like the first one she had taken only a few hours earlier, but now Tracy drove without hesitation, without any fear at all. The events of the past twelve hours had changed her in some fundamental way—shattered her preconceived notions of how things operated in the field. What she had seen had reshaped them profoundly. Everything she had seen and done, from the illegals to the break-and-enter to the assault on the compound, had altered her view on a lot of things, and it was all about to culminate in the next few minutes.

  The truck dipped and bounced as it bulled its way across a rutted desert plain, carved out by a flash flood thousands of years ago.

  Her phone rang, and Tracy risked taking one hand off the bucking wheel to flip it open, leaving it on the seat beside her. “Yeah?”

  The cell automatically went to speaker. “Tracy, it’s Stephanie. He’s almost at the end of the tunnel, and will be reaching his truck soon. We’re sending a helicopter to back you up.”

  “They already shot one down, but I’m almost there—just give me another minute. He’s not getting away this time.”

  “Remember, take him alive if you can—he’ll be a wealth of information if we can interrogate him,” Kate said.

  “That bastard just killed a Border Patrol agent, almost killed me and came within a hairbreadth of wiping out much of the East Coast, and you want me to go easy on him?”

  Stephanie’s calm voice almost soothed Tracy out of her plan. “I understand you’re upset, but you have to look at the bigger picture. Al-Kharzi is a link in a bigger chain, connected all around the world. The people who took that bomb and sent it to his people in Texas, and the people all across the world who funnel them money, those are the people that we’re trying to stop. The ones behind all of this.

  But we need the people who know them, who can tell us who they are, to get to them.”

  “Well, I’ll see what I can do. I just found him.” Tracy pressed the accelerator to the floor, and the truck leaped forward, its headlights illuminating an unarmored pickup truck. A startled face looked at her from the driver’s-side window. “Yeah, you better look surprised, you prick.”

  “What was that?” The phone bounced on the seat, and Tracy thought Stephanie’s voice might have taken on a concerned tone. She smiled grimly. “Have sighted suspect and am in pursuit. Will call after apprehension is made.”

  Tracy flipped the phone closed and tossed it on the floor, removing the last distraction from the chase.

  There was a small ditch separating the road from the desert, and she didn’t hesitate, pushing the truck as fast as it would go to clear the obstacle. The plain she was on was higher and she cleared the trench and landed on the road with a bone-jarring crash, feeling the stiff suspension bottom out for a moment. Tapping the brakes just enough, she forced the truck into a bootlegger’s turn, slewing it around ninety degrees and ending up facing the direction al-Kharzi had gone. The steering felt looser, and she thought she’d totally fucked up the alignment, but the truck was still moving forward, and that was all she cared about.

  Stomping the pedal to the floor, Tracy shifted into two-wheel drive and raced after the fleeing terrorist. No doubt he was heading for the border, but if he thought he’d be safe there, she had a big surprise for him. Tracy had already made up her mind; she’d chase him all the way to Mexico City if she had to.

  The modified Ford F550’s powerful V-10 engine roared as it ate up the miles between Tracy and her target.

  Although the road was narrow and winding, her driving skills made all the difference as she navigated the dirt lane, gaining on the truck ahead of her with every passing minute. It helped that the terrorist was having a hard time controlling his vehicle, having to sacrifice speed for safety.

  Tracy powered around a final turn and her headlights lit up the back of the fleeing truck just as it sailed down a small hill. She followed, gaining enough speed to draw to within inches of his rear bumper.

  Okay, now what? Tracy frowned as she realized she had been concentrating so hard on catching him that she hadn’t thought out much of a plan beyond that. The road was too narrow to pull alongside and force him off the road.

  Shooting at him was also out of the question; not only would it be a wasted attempt here, but she needed both hands to control the steering wheel. That left only one thing to do.

  Flooring the accelerator again, Tracy crept up to within a yard of the other truck’s bumper, then surged ahead, tapping the lighter truck with her much heavier vehicle.

  The pickup slewed from side to side as the terrorist fought to regain control.

  One more oughta do it… Tracy pulled up and rammed the rear bumper just as they were about to head into a turn.

  The additional force kept the first truck going in a straight line. It crashed into the desert scrub, destroying trees and brush as it plowed across the land.

  While Tracy had hoped to overturn it, she wasn’t about to miss her advantage. Dropping the SWAT truck back into four-wheel drive, she followed the trail of destruction into the plain, scanning the hardpan for any sign of him.

  About twenty yards ahead was the pickup truck, its driver’s side facing the front of her truck. Al-Kharzi was trying to get back to the road. Every detail was highlighted as if the truck were parked in daylight, from its dust-caked fenders and windows to the face looking through the window at her.

  Tracy grinned and crushed the accelerator to the floor.

  She surged ahead, aiming squarely at the midsection of the truck. Frozen between driving away and running, Sepehr made a halfhearted attempt to move the truck out of her path, then ducked out of sight a second before impact.

  The big truck slammed into the pickup’s side with a tremendous screech of crumpling metal and broken glass. It sent the smaller vehicle skidding across the ground with enough force to flip it over, crushing the roof of the cab as the truck completed its roll and landed on its side, the undercarriage facing her.

  Thrown into the seat restraints by the imp
act, Tracy gasped in a breath before extricating herself from the straps and getting out. Her ribs ached each time she inhaled.

  Drawing her pistol again, she approached the wreck, every sense alert, waiting for him to pop out and try something.

  A part of her hoped he would.

  Leading with her weapon, Tracy came around the twisted and dented hood, covering the passenger compartment first.

  Sepehr was lying there, half in and half out of the truck. He had smashed out the shattered safety windshield, which lay in one huge, fragmented piece on the ground in front of him, but he hadn’t gone any farther. His face was a mask of blood, and one leg was twisted under him.

  Tracy aimed her pistol at him as he stared back at her.

  For a moment, the agent and the terrorist looked into each other’s eyes.

  Then Tracy lowered her pistol slightly. “Sepehr al-Kharzi, you are under arrest on the charges of intent to commit a terrorist act against the United States, conspiracy to commit a terrorist act against the United States and illegal possession of nuclear materials and a weapon of mass destruction. And by the time we’re done, I’m sure the U.S. government will have come up with plenty more charges to pile on you.”

  Through the blood and broken teeth, Sepehr began to chuckle, then laugh. Tracy let him, figuring he’d let her in on the joke soon enough.

  “Stupid American cow. There is no more American government. It has been destroyed. Washington, D.C….

  New York…all burning now…”

  Tracy shook her head. “I thought you might say something like that. But you’re wrong. We stopped your rocket, brought it down in a lake in Illinois. That bomb never got the chance to take out those cities or anywhere else. In fact, we’re recovering the warhead right now. It’s over.”

  The terrorist pushed himself up on one arm. “You… lie…you’re lying…”

  “I don’t have any reason to lie. You’ll see that your mission has failed soon enough.” Tracy produced a pair of handcuffs. “There are some people back in D.C. who can’t wait to talk to you.”

  “No American woman is going to arrest me!” The wounded man grabbed the window frame of the truck, seemingly oblivious to the pieces of broken glass that sliced into his hand. He hauled himself to his feet.

  “Stand right there and raise your hands over your head.”

  Tracy adjusted her stance and aimed at his chest.

  “No American whore is going to arrest Sepehr al-Kharzi!” Biting his lip, he took a step toward her.

  “Stop right where you are!” Tracy ordered, lining her pistol sights on him. “Stop or I will shoot!”

  Sepehr took another step, and as he did so, he brought his left hand out from behind his back, bringing up a small black pistol. Tracy squeezed the trigger of her SIG Sauer twice, the bullets entering the terrorist’s chest and making him collapse against the hood of the truck. He tried to raise the pistol, and Tracy fired once more, this one carving into his neck. Sepehr al-Kharzi slid to the ground.

  Tracy holstered her pistol. “No, but an American woman killed you, you psychotic fuck.” She took a deep breath and walked back to the truck, spotting lights from the rest of the Border Patrol in the distance. Opening the passenger’s door, she picked up the phone and flipped it over.

  “Stephanie? It’s Tracy. I’m afraid you’re not gonna like this.”

  Tracy sat on a park bench, watching Jennifer play on the wooden equipment. Paul played with her for several minutes, until she joined a larger group of children on a merry-go-round. Then he let her run off, and walked back to Tracy. But every few seconds, Jennifer looked over, making sure she was still there.

  Her return flight had touched back down in D.C. two days earlier, but Tracy still wasn’t used to being back. The humid dampness seemed oppressive after the dry, hot desert, and the buildings and corridors of power no longer held the same interest for her. Even as she watched Jennifer laugh and run and play in the summer sunshine, even as she smiled and waved back at her near stepchild, her mind was more than a thousand miles away, at an abandoned barn in the middle of the Texas plains.

  “Tracy?”

  With a start, she realized that Paul stood next to her and had said something. “I’m sorry, Paul, I was—distracted.”

  “Yeah, much like you’ve been ever since you returned.

  Look, I know you asked me not to pry but…is there anything you wanted to talk about? Anything at all?”

  Tracy looked at Paul, secure and comfortable in his short-sleeved shirt and L.L. Bean chinos, with leather deck shoes on his feet. Oh, Paul, there’s so much I want to tell you—and so much you’re not going to understand, she thought. She shifted her position on the bench, wincing a bit as her sore shoulder twinged.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, Paul.” Tracy stared at Jennifer, her blond hair flashing in the sun, and tried to imprint the image in her mind, to take with her when she began her journey. “I resigned from DHS today.”

  Paul’s eyebrows flew up in surprise. “What? When did you decide this? Why didn’t you talk to me about it?”

  She turned to him, about to retort, but simply smiled sadly. “Because it wasn’t your decision to make—it was mine.” She left out the part about Gilliam blocking her requested transfer to the Border Patrol, telling her she was far more valuable back in D.C. He had made vague noises about the transfer to Virginia, but she saw, with startling clarity, that he was never going to let her go. She had pulled out the second piece of paper from a folder and placed it on his desk and walked out.

  “This is great! Let me make some calls, and I’ll see about getting you an interview. I’m sure my company will snap you right up—what?”

  Tracy had laid her hand on his arm, halting his plans for their future in midsentence. “Thanks, Paul, I appreciate your offer, but I’m not interested in pursuing a career with Globeview. In fact, I’m not interested in pursuing a career in Washington at all.”

  His brows dipped into a frown. “Not in Washington?

  What do you mean? Are you thinking of heading to Langley, joining the Agency?”

  “No, Paul. I want to go back down to Texas, to the border. I want to work there and try to help find a solution to what’s happening there.”

  Paul stared at her, his mouth slightly ajar as he tried to fathom what she had just said. Well, I guess I finally stumped you, Tracy thought as she waited for him to reply.

  “Okay, let’s talk about this.You mean temporarily, right?”

  “I’m afraid not, Paul. I’m thinking about staying there for several years. The situation there isn’t going to change overnight. It’s going to take committed people who are willing to stick around and get the job done.”

  “Jesus, you’re really serious about this. So, where does that leave us?”

  “I…don’t know. This is my choice, and I can’t ask you both to pick up everything and move there with me. That’s not fair to you. But this is something I feel that I have to do. I’ve enjoyed my time with Homeland Security, but I always felt like I was sort of spinning my wheels and not getting anywhere, bogged down in the bureaucracy. Those people on the border are trying to accomplish something, and I want to be a part of it.”

  “Tracy, excuse me for being blunt, but you actually want to patrol the wasteland of the border and get shot at and save people who just want to sponge off our nation? I’ve been to those border towns—it’s like stepping back in time. If you want to accomplish something, at least take a look at Globeview. They can station you around the world if you want to travel, and place you just about anywhere—even Mexico, if that’s what you really want. But you’d have more flexibility in your schedule, be making a hell of a lot more money and, most importantly, we’d still be able to be together, as well.”

  “That’s sweet, Paul, but you were already worried enough about me when I was in Texas. How would you feel if I took a two-year assignment in Mexico City, or the Philippines or in Colombia where wom
en get kidnapped all the time?”

  “GSS provides the best protection money can buy— you’d be safe at all times. They take care of their people really well.”

  “And also insulate them from the men and women that need help the most. That’s not how things get done.”

  “What are you talking about? That’s the only way things get done, by going to the top, by talking to the people who make the decisions in government, in politics. That’s the only way to change anything down there or anywhere else.”

  Tracy smiled again, unsurprised by her fiancé’s naiveté.

  “The only problem with that is those people tend to let the power they wield go to their heads, and spend too much time trying to extend or protect it, all at the expense of the people they’re supposed to be serving. No, Paul, my mind is made up.You and I have different ideas of how to get things done.

  I’m tired of sitting on the sidelines and watching other people take the risks. I want to get in the game.”

  Paul ran a hand through his hair. “And there’s no reason you can’t do that at Globeview.”

  Tracy slipped her hand into her purse and brought out the engagement ring Paul had given to her eighteen months ago, and which she’d taken off on the flight down to El Paso and hadn’t put back on since. She held it out to him.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Paul stared at it, seeing all of their shared plans and dreams disappear through the circle of gold. “There’s nothing I can say or do to change your mind?”

  “Only if you wanted to chuck it all and come with me.”

  Her bright smile was forced, but she pasted it on nonetheless.

  Paul met her gaze for several seconds, truly thinking it over, and Tracy found that she loved him even more for that. But then he dropped his head and looked back out over the playground. “I can’t. I can’t uproot Jennifer from school, her friends, to haul her halfway across the country.

  The divorce was hard enough on her, I couldn’t subject her to that, not now.”

  Tracy placed the ring in his hand and folded his fingers over it. “Your daughter is strong, Paul, just like you raised her to be. I love you, and I love her, as well, but this just isn’t the place for me right now.”