by P. A. DePaul
“Not really satisfying, is it? Let’s cut the bullshit and meet once and for all.”
Griffin racked his brain. How could he manipulate this development to his favor? Bastard was right: He didn’t want to play Victor’s game anymore. He wanted Cappy to suffer as much as possible. How, he hadn’t decided yet. Don’t give in too quickly. He didn’t want to come off overeager.
After a sufficient pause, he sneered, “So I can waltz into an ambush? No thanks.”
“I’m going to make this easy for you. I’m going to be sitting near the waterfall staring at the pedestrian bridge on the Canal Walk near Ohio Street in one hour. My team is with me right now so you know they’re not out there waiting to put a bullet in your head. Delta, sound off.”
“Wraith.”
“Romeo.”
“Magician.”
“Talon.”
Each operative said their name.
Griffin could see the possibilities of Cappy’s throwing the gauntlet. “What’s to stop me from putting a bullet in your head?”
“Nothing,” Malone retorted. “But I don’t think you will. You have something you want to say to me, and I’m curious enough to risk it.”
Asshole. True, he did want Malone to know he still lived, but to be that brazen about it rankled.
“Bring Michelle and make it thirty minutes.”
“No. She stays out of this.”
“Then I guess we continue to play the game.”
Griffin hung up and tapped the device against his chin. He held up his prosthetic and closed one eye, squinting at the TV through the hole in his palm.
Malone may think he was slick with his wording, but Griffin hadn’t missed the way the operative mentioned everything in the present tense. The man never promised the team wouldn’t set up the minute they hung up the phone.
He’d have to be on the lookout for Wraith. Had she gotten lucky or was she really as good as the rumors said?
Chapter 64
“Zones now, people,” Cappy barked, jumping out the SUV. “Ted, you recording?”
“Uh,” the genius said, tapping on his tablet from the middle bench seat. “I am now. Can everyone say something?”
As if scripted they all repeated, “Something.”
“Oh, ha ha.” Ted jabbed at the keyboard’s buttons. “Whatever. Everyone’s comms showed up in the feed . . . except Michelle’s. Can you try again?”
Cappy froze adjusting the Velcro on his Kevlar vest hidden underneath his Indy 500 sweatshirt. “Excuse me? She doesn’t need a mic.”
“I’m off to work in a few laps and get the lay of the land.” Grady waved, putting his “headphones” on and disappearing down the steps to enter the Canal Walk area.
Talon and Isis slid from the SUV, and in a twist rarely executed, Talon had donned a business suit. Cappy figured if the assassin was Victor’s, then he had probably studied the team’s usual dynamic with blending in and covering an area.
Talon adjusted his tie and Cappy had to admit his operative could clean up nicely when he wanted to. Of course, the bruising on his face detracted from the overall image, but if Talon didn’t open his mouth, he’d fool everyone into thinking he was the perfect catch. Isis had already showed up in a lovely dress, so she got to stay as-is. With the South and East zones consisting of government buildings, they couldn’t exactly slum it like the rest of them.
Isis slinked her arm through Talon’s, rubbing her body against him as if she planned to whisk him to a hotel instead of indulging in a walk. Talon’s emerald eyes hardened and Cappy swore he heard a crack emanate from the man’s locked jaw. Talon pushed out with his elbow, forcing some space between them, and muttered something about “biting off the heads of her mates,” before he stiffly strolled away with her.
Wraith and Magician had been dropped off when the team first arrived to cover the West and Southwest zones.
“Uh.” Romeo hopped out of the driver’s seat. “I’m not needed for this, so I’m heading for the North side.” He gave them a two-fingered salute and ambled toward the steps.
Romeo and Magician also had a nice change of pace. They got to trade in their suits for leisure wear. Romeo stuck with a loose-fitting matching nylon ensemble, but Magician was going to cause more than a few sprained necks. A pair of black spandex pants and fitted zip-up jacket covered her athletic form.
“Omph.” Riiiiipppppp.
Cappy whirled to see Michelle practicing some sort of contortionist move involving the upper half of her body twisting to face backward. She fiddled with the Velcro on the Kevlar vest strapped over her black turtleneck, played with a wire, then straightened and adjusted her earpiece. “Can you read me now?”
Ted studied his screen. “Yep.”
“Cord was caught,” she stated by way of explanation.
The Senator shifted on the seat beside Ted and peered at the tablet. “This will be encrypted, right?”
“Absolutely,” Ted answered, still typing. “No one will be able to steal the transmission or listen unless I want them to.”
Michelle clomped on the step running beneath the back doors and balanced against Cappy’s shoulder.
“What are you doing?” he asked, trying to stop her from—
Damn. Her shoes hit the pavement.
She pivoted and bent forward, stretching to reach across the first bench. His eyes instantly glommed onto her ass. The way it spread and wiggled at just the perfect angle for him to—
Oh dear God. Never in the history of assignments had he sported so many hard-ons than this one.
She sprang up and clutched her gray sweatshirt.
“Michelle.” Cappy took the material from her hands and clicked his mic off. “Listen to me. I know you think going with me is going to help, but it’s not. I refuse to risk you.”
“He said he wouldn’t show if I wasn’t there.” Michelle tried to take her sweatshirt back.
“If that’s the case, then we move to a new plan. Your safety is the priority.”
“I’ve already told you that’s my call to make,” her voice hardened and he could see the frustration in her eyes.
“Actually, it’s mine,” Cappy replied with a touch of steel. “As leader of this mission, it’s my job to assign who goes into the field and who stays back as I see fit.”
Her entire body stiffened.
“I know I’m going to pay for this, but I’m no longer talking to you as Jeremy. Listen to me as Cappy, CO of Delta Squad. This moment is not about us as a couple but about the assignment. I’m telling you to stay in the truck with Ted and the Senator.”
Her chin lifted so high, she was in jeopardy of breaking her neck. The set of her jaw spelled so much trouble for him later. Fuck.
He kept his expression blank and continued to hold her stare, letting her know without words he wasn’t backing down.
She snatched her sweatshirt out of his hands and climbed back inside without a word.
Ted’s face was bright red and he resolutely stared at his computer. The Senator’s expression bore something akin to sympathy, but before Cappy could see more, the door slammed closed in his face.
Oh yeah. He just jumped to numero uno on her shit list.
Game face, Cappy. Worry about that later if you live through this. He breathed in and forced his mind to clear. To catch this asshole he needed to be attuned to every detail and study every face, not worry about Michelle’s hurt feelings.
He flicked his mic back on and waited until a couple passed by, then fell into step behind them. As if he was out for some fresh air, he casually wandered toward the stairs to the Canal Walk.
“Everyone in position?” Cappy asked, his gaze roving, memorizing every person he saw as he walked down the steps.
“Checks,” and clicks let him know they were set up and ready to roll.
When he reached the bottom of the steps, he scanned the entire area. To his left above, cars streamed by on Ohio Street. The canal, which only spanned anywhere from about twenty to forty feet in width meandered in front of him and continued to cut through miles of downtown. Overlarge sidewalks framed the waterway and allowed people to pass underneath the busy roads that crossed over the canal.
The sun beat down on his head, making him wish he didn’t have to wear a turtleneck, Kevlar, and a sweatshirt. He’d be sweating in no time.
About fifty feet to his right, a quaint footbridge made out of cement and wrought iron with ornamentation carved into its side arched over the water. Trees and bushes lined the sidewalk at just the right intervals to have the scene look straight out of a painting. On the other side of the bridge was the wall of mini waterfalls he planned to wait beside. He chose the spot for a number of reasons. The area was the bottom corner of a jagged L the canal formed, giving him the vantage point of being able to see large portions in both directions. The rushing “falls” themselves were only about ten feet high and the area above them, on street level, was an open grassy promenade outside one of the government buildings. Less chance the killer could approach him from behind without being spotted by Isis or Talon. The only other entrance to the canal within that vicinity was directly from the government building.
It was about as secluded in the open touristy spot as Cappy could manage.
Grady jogged by on the other side of the canal, close to the falls. “It’s a little over a three mile jog,” he reported, barely winded. “I should be able to make quite a few laps with no problem.”
“Keep ’em slow if you can,” Cappy replied, not looking at his newest operative. “He’s probably not going to show on time.”
“Check.”
Cappy glanced at his watch. 10:39 a.m. He still had about twenty minutes before the supposed deadline. No sense in coming off too anxious and putting a target on his head before he had to. To minimize his exposure he strode to a spot just underneath Ohio Street and leaned his back against the cement. The shade of the bridge would help keep him cool while still providing him with a full view of the waterfalls.
“Raymond.” Michelle’s voice filtered into his earpiece. “Or should I say Romeo. I can’t just sit here, and I don’t want to talk to Cappy right now. I’m told you like romance novels.”
A bark of laughter blasted in his ear. “Unrepentantly guilty. Love ’em.”
“Let’s talk books.”
Cappy bowed his head. He was really going to piss her off now. “Actually—” He had to pause and wait for a female runner who was doing her best to change her shape to something other than round, “The channel needs to remain clear. When we’re in the field we keep the chatter to a minimum and focused on the assignment.”
Dead silence greeted him. Yeah, he’d be lucky if she didn’t remove his balls tonight when he slept.
Chapter 65
Griffin lifted his head from his rifle scope and picked up his spotting scope. He needed to see more than just that narrow view.
Starting with the south he panned the scene across the street and five stories below him. Trees with their fall leaves dotted the idyllic area and caused a few sightline problems but nothing he couldn’t handle. Bright yellow and blue plastic pedal boats bobbed in the water offering two or four people a ton of fun if they didn’t mind pedaling their asses off to go ten yards. And not to be discriminatory against the single folks, a row of kayaks were moored alongside, ready to be used.
Quite a few runners made use of the scenic setting to keep up their physical fitness. More than he anticipated, in fact, for a Tuesday morning. Guess the sun and upper-sixty-degree weather had a few playing hooky from work. He was impressed with one guy in particular. The jogger must be training for a marathon. Every now and then, the large blond man would walk, but he kept at it.
Moms pushed strollers, couples roamed, and tourists pointed at the landscaping or the activities they probably wanted to participate in.
So far, he hadn’t spotted anyone from Delta but he could just feel their presence like an ominous warning. No way would Malone be here without them.
Across in the east, the designated footbridge remained clear of pedestrians, but that could change any second. The five waterfalls thundered and the area was shaded due to the tall government building adjacent to the canal.
And on the middle of the ledge sat Malone. Alone.
Griffin gnashed his teeth. His finger stroked the trigger of his sniper rifle but he forced himself to hold back. He didn’t need to rush this like he had yesterday. Today was about success and feeding his vengeance.
He continued to scan toward the north. A copse of trees impeded his ability to see much before the Canal Walk disappeared underneath Ohio Street.
Damn. Malone really hadn’t brought Michelle.
Griffin checked his watch. 11:32 a.m. Thirty minutes beyond the initial meet time.
“Don’t lose your patience,” he muttered, trying to calm his racing pulse. “He wouldn’t have left her unprotected.”
He pulled his ratty backpack closer and snapped open the side pocket. The bulky enhanced phone felt clunky in his hands, but it did the job.
He hit Redial and placed the phone to his ear.
After two rings the connection opened.
“Hello, Senator,” Griffin greeted, knowing his voice was being digitally altered.
Pause. “Why are you calling me?”
Griffin peered through his rifle scope at Malone. The man’s posture stiffened and a frown took over his face.
“I want you to listen to me very carefully. I have a rifle trained on our mutual friend by the waterfall as we speak. If you do not follow my instructions exactly, he will die next and the flash drive with all your dirty secrets will be released.”
“How do I know you won’t—”
“Silence,” Griffin snapped, watching Malone’s mouth move as he stood, confirming Delta was, indeed, here.
“I see you have an open line of communication with our friend. Tell him to stay put, but not another word out of your mouth beyond that or I pull the trigger.”
“Cappy, don’t move.” Pause. “That’s an order,” the Senator snarled.
Cappy’s posture went completely rigid and he openly scanned the area.
“Very good. I’m not stepping foot inside the kill box you’ve established without a little insurance. I want you to call off Delta Squad. Everyone but our friend must leave the area. Tell them to take a walk. There’s a hotel a few blocks up Ohio Street between Illinois and Meridian with a restaurant in it. Have them order lunch. Someone inside will notify me when they’ve completed the action. And just to be clear, they can’t order lunch then leave. They all must stay there a whole hour.”
Griffin paused to see if the Senator would say anything, but the politician remained quiet. Smart man.
“You will escort Michelle to our mutual friend’s spot and ensure neither one leaves the area. Press a button so I know you understand these instructions.”
Griffin pulled the phone away from his ear and chuckled quietly when an annoying tone blasted from the speaker.
“Ten minutes. Delta must be seated in the restaurant and you standing beside our friend with Michelle within the next ten minutes. Clock starts now.”
Chapter 66
Michelle kept her hand over her mouth so she wouldn’t make a sound. The Senator had blanched after answering the phone, then held his finger to his lips.
Fear and anger rolled off the man, making her heart pound against her chest. Jeremy? Was he okay?
The Senator had barked at Cappy to stay put, but why? Had one of the other members of Delta run into trouble?
Bob Harris hung up and swiped a shaking hand over his face. He glanced at his watch and Michelle couldn’t take it anymore. “Who was that?�
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“What’s going on?” Cappy snarled. “Does that bastard have me in his sights?”
Oh God. She held back her cry at the thought. No one needed her falling apart.
“Senator, talk to me, goddamn it.”
“That was the blackmailer,” the Senator stated after taking a breath. “He’s giving us an ultimatum. Delta Squad leaves the area or he’ll put a bullet in Cappy’s head and release the blackmail Victor has on me.”
“Son of a bitch,” Grady uttered between breaths.
“I need you to recite exactly what he said,” Cappy commanded. “Don’t deviate a word.”
Michelle couldn’t breathe. The killer had the man she loved in his crosshairs.
A gentle touch on her shoulder startled her and she jumped. Ted withdrew his hand and sat back against the middle bench.
Before she could respond to his attempt to soothe her, Bob Harris recounted the entire two-minute phone call.
Spots dotted her vision. All the bravado she had blustered earlier fled. She no longer wanted to step outside of the SUV. In fact, if she lived through this, she planned on doing whatever sexual thing Jeremy wanted to thank him for being strong enough to make her stay behind in the first place.
Nucking Futs. This was real. Earlier she had a healthy sense of denial that something bad would happen. Now she had no illusions.
“Delta, clear out,” Cappy ordered, snapping her out of her spiraling horror.
“No fucking way,” Talon bit out.
Thank you, SCK. You tell him.
“Do it. We have two things to our advantage.”
Her head snapped up. They had an advantage?
“One, he doesn’t know about Isis and Grady, and two, if he wanted to put a bullet in my brain he’d have already done it without all the theater. It’s what I suspected: He wants to talk to me.”
Too many of the operators spoke at once for her to follow, but the consensus was they weren’t leaving.
Oh God. She was so torn. They had to leave or Jeremy would die, but if they did, then he’d only have Grady and Isis as backup. A new member and a borrowed member. Not the people he’d trained with.
