It was insane. Not to mention dangerous.
She looked over her shoulder to where Emily had sat, a hand over her stomach.
Maggie couldn’t say anything that would help Emily.
But she could do something.
Making the first of two phone calls she would need to make, Maggie dialed the number before she changed her mind.
“Mags.”
“Ashton, I need your help.”
Chapter 13
What am I doing? Maggie thought for the hundredth time since making up her mind.
It was the bracelet that sparked this insane idea of hers. Maggie made sure to put it on Emily back inside the consulate, but she never thought she would need to use it for this.
The tracking device concealed inside the bracelet traced Emily to Downtown Brooklyn.
Maggie and a team of Ashton’s contacts in the city crossed the Manhattan Bridge. Night had fallen and the city lit up like a constellation of stars, the Empire State Building rising into the sky in a beacon of brilliant light. The cloak of darkness would give Maggie and her cohorts some much needed cover, but it also meant Emily was running out of time.
Danielle said a doctor would arrive that night to kill Emily by lethal injection. A fate that only the worst of America’s criminals received. At least in some states. Emily was no criminal, and Maggie refused to sit back and allow her life to be taken from her before it even started.
“Thank you for helping me,” Maggie said to the driver, who appeared to be the one in charge of the rest of the crew.
The gruff man, who refused to tell Maggie his name, chewed on his cigar and blew out a puff of smoke. “I’m only doing this because I owe Ashton a favor.”
Maggie didn’t ask Ashton many questions about the ragtag group he assembled for her. If he trusted them, it was enough for her. Even if most of them firmly resided at the opposite end of the law.
Ashton hadn’t revealed much more than the basics of the situation to his contacts, but from the looks of their faces in the back of the van, they knew enough to know things were about to get dangerous.
None of them were happy about Maggie’s no gun policy. While she may be about to go against her colleagues, and her government, that didn’t mean she wanted any of them dead. Murder was strictly off the table, at least at their end. Danielle and her team would be on the defensive, knowing what was at risk if they lost Emily from their clutches. Maggie could live with betraying her own side, but no one was about to die because of her. Not even Emily.
Rain began to plummet from the heavens and battered against the windshield of the van. Above the gray clouds were thick and blotted out the full moon like a bad omen of things to come. Good thing Maggie wasn’t superstitious.
The baton she stole earlier lay across her lap and she gripped hold of it with her gloved hands, focusing on her breathing. On what she was about to do.
Maggie didn’t make a habit of committing treason. While she may commit several illegal acts during any given mission, that particular crime was never one she partook in. Until now.
Then again, it would only be considered treason if she got caught. And Maggie had no intentions of letting that happen.
There were six in the back of the van, three women, three men. Including Maggie and the driver, that made them a team of eight. Danielle would have more than that at their location, but Ashton assured Maggie his each of his contacts were worth two normal agents. She only hoped he was right.
They got off the bridge and headed to the New York Naval Shipyard. The NYNS had been decommissioned in the sixties and had since reinvented itself as commercial property, catering to a wide scope of industries from farming and manufacturing to entertainment, home to the largest set of production studios outside of Los Angeles.
The tracker Emily wore had her inside an abandoned warehouse at the edge of the yard which looked out into the East River from Wallabout Bay.
Maggie’s phone buzzed in her pocket.
“Do you have everything you need?” Maggie asked, forgoing hellos.
“Yes,” said the voice.
“Good. Meet me at pier K in one hour. Don’t be late.” Maggie hung up and turned off the phone. She’d done all she could.
The unnamed driver approached one of the yard’s entrance gates and spoke briefly with the guy manning it. From the tone, Maggie assumed they knew each other. The driver passed the man a small pile of dollars and winked at him before continuing inside.
“Let’s abandon the van here,” ordered Maggie. “I want the advantage of surprise.”
Danielle’s crew would be on the lookout for trouble, knowing the Russians would still be searching for their lost witness.
If Maggie’s plan worked out, none of them would see Emily Wallace ever again.
Ashton’s band of mercenaries got out the van in silence, all of them dressed head to toe in black. Maggie pulled the balaclava over her head, making sure to conceal her hair, and secured a pair of night vision goggles over her eyes. Concealing her identity was vital at the best of times while out on a job; tonight most of all.
Motioning with hand signals, Maggie led her temporary troops forward into the rain soaked night and approached the abandoned warehouse.
Wind whistled across the bay and sent shivers down Maggie’s spine like iced fingers clawing at her skin. The night air was warm, but still Maggie’s teeth chattered. Clamping her jaw down, she pressed forward until they reached the entrance of the warehouse.
The crew split into prearranged groups, leaving Maggie on her own the way she liked it, and they slinked into position like phantoms in the night.
Waiting for the signal, Maggie leaned down on her knees and hid between a rough outcrop of bushes and tall grass. Through her goggles, the world was shades of green. Two of Danielle’s agents made rounds of the perimeter, guns in hands and eyes watchful.
Not watchful enough.
The unnamed driver and his partner aimed their guns at the agents from their spots behind a SUV. Their aim was on point and struck both guards in the thigh, the little darts protruding from their flesh long enough for them to realize what it was.
The second pair of Ashton’s mercenaries appeared from the darkness and caught the agents before they could fall with unceremonious thumps. Dragging them out of the picture and around to the side of the building to sleep it off, the mercenaries narrowed in from all angles and began their assault of the building.
Maggie waited until the first pair breeched the entrance and a blast sounded from a smoke bomb before moving. Most of the windows were boarded, blocking an indication of light from inside. Emily could be anywhere.
Yelling and gunshots echoed from inside and travelled through the whipping wind.
Circumventing the entrance, Maggie sprinted to the back of the warehouse. Like the front of the building, the windows at the back were boarded too. Using her baton, Maggie wedged the weapon between the wood and the frame of the closed window and yanked it with all the strength.
The nails slid out without much fuss, the damp wood rotten with age and the elements.
Maggie risked a look inside to make sure the coast was clear. The familiar grunts of fighting reverberated through the bare brick walls, but the coast was clear. Sliding in, Maggie closed the wood back over the window as best she could and scanned her surroundings.
A two-story warehouse, Maggie found herself in a hallway at the foot of a set of stairs. No fighting appeared to be going on up on the floor above. She fiddled with her goggles and listened, the whole place pitch black thanks to one of her teams succeeding in shutting down the lights.
A crick in the floorboards creaked behind her and Maggie lashed out with her baton. The assailant dodged the attack and came in with one of his own. Maggie took the blow, a meaty fist striking her in the shoulder. Her arm rang with pain, but she held on to her baton and parried a right hook with it. As much as she would like to stand toe to toe with the big brute and let off some steam, Maggie had a job to do and it
couldn’t wait.
The opponents circled the little hall and squared each other up. The agent didn’t seem impressed with what he saw, but Maggie was used to that. It gave her the advantage when her adversaries didn’t expect much.
The man’s assumptions turned out to be his downfall when he barged towards her like a rugby player, going in for a takedown. Maggie twirled on the balls of her feet and spun, bringing the baton down like a whip, and bludgeoned the agent in the back of the head.
It had worked for her and Emily back in the subway, and it worked for Maggie now. The agent fell to the floor and never got back up.
Maggie kicked him to make sure he was out, going over the options in her head. The fighting still raged on beyond the set of doors to her left, where Ashton’s contacts were hopefully gaining the advantage.
Strategically, it didn’t make sense for Danielle to place Emily anywhere near the entrance in case of an attack like the very one going on now. No, she would want Emily as far away as possible. Somewhere they could keep her while they contained the breach.
That didn’t leave many options, and Maggie ascended the steps on light feet, holding her baton close.
Upstairs wasn’t as big as the lower level. From what Maggie could tell, it took up a fraction of the space, and she passed two small offices as she crept down the hallway. Mold covered carpet lined the floor, squishy under her feet and spotted with frayed holes and dark stains. A rat scurried at the sight of Maggie, but she didn’t squirm. She had bigger vermin to take care of tonight.
Only one more door remained. Unlike the others, it was closed, and a moving light shone from under it.
Counting from three, Maggie took a deep breath and rushed the door. Leaping into the air, Maggie kicked the wood and it flew open, breaking from its rusted hinges. It was a foreman’s room, larger than the other two offices with a wide, one-hundred-and-eighty-degree window that overlooked the shop floor and the fighting going on below.
Maggie’s heart leapt as she spotted Emily on the office table.
But she wasn’t alone.
A man fumbled with a flashlight and aimed it at Maggie. In his free hand, he held a needle, filled with a clear substance. A vicious rage bubbled inside of Maggie. A few more moments and it would have all been for nothing. It would have been too late.
Liquid spurted from the end of the needle as the doctor dropped the flashlight and made for Emily on the table.
Maggie bounded in, crossing over the fallen door, and yanked the man back with the scruff of his shirt. Taking her baton in both hands, she scooped it over the doctor’s head and caught him by the neck, pressing the weapon against his windpipe.
The doctor wriggled in her grasp, but Maggie held on tight as he started to fall into unconsciousness.
His attempts to break free made the process quicker, expelling his oxygen until it became too much for his body. With eyes rolling to the back of his head, he slipped under Maggie’s arms and splayed out on the ground.
“Sorry, Doctor, but your services will not be needed tonight.”
Maggie didn’t check on him. The doctor would live.
Instead, she went to the table where Emily lay.
Maggie’s heart stopped as she got close.
Emily’s eyes were closed and she wasn’t moving.
Chapter 14
Maggie tapped Emily’s face as panic welled inside her. Was she too late? Had the doctor already administered a dose of something else? Something lethal?
“Emily. Emily wake up.”
Emily didn’t move.
“Emily,” Maggie said again, louder this time.
Nothing.
Sliding out of one of her gloves, Maggie placed the back of her hand above Emily’s lips and waited with bated breath.
Maggie released a deep sigh when she felt it. It was shallow, but Emily was breathing. She was still alive.
Digging into her pockets, Maggie brought out a small vial and unscrewed the cap. She placed the smelling salts under Emily’s nose and waited.
Emily’s eyes shot open and her body jerked away from the smell. Maggie secured her by the shoulders as she came too, her clouded brain trying to catch up with where she was. They must have drugged her again after questioning.
Bastards.
“It’s me,” Maggie whispered, wiping Emily’s clammy face free from her braids. “Can you sit up?”
She groaned as Maggie hoisted her into a sitting position, holding a hand to her head. Maggie knew the feeling. Emily was in for a killer headache.
“Do you think you can walk?” Maggie asked. They couldn’t hang around any longer than necessary.
Emily’s eyes widened, peering over Maggie’s shoulder. “Watch out!”
Maggie spun in time to see Danielle striding towards her from the hallway. She shoved Emily back and stood her ground, ready to come face to face with the woman whose botched mission caused all of this.
“Come on!” Maggie yelled in fluent Russian, springing forward to meet Danielle.
The women clashed in a collision of fists and anger.
Maggie evaded a kick aimed at her stomach and thrashed out with her baton. Danielle leaned back to dodge the swing, but it clipped her on the nose and she reeled back, swearing as blood oozed from her nostrils.
“You’re not taking her,” Danielle rasped, her Russian flawed and rudimentary.
Charging for Maggie again, Danielle flogged Maggie in the face with an open palm. It caught Maggie off guard, assuming the agent was coming at her with a kick. Danielle used the delay in response to swipe her leg under Maggie’s ankles and send her to the ground.
Maggie careened back and slammed into the floor. The baton slipped from her hands and rolled out of sight.
The fall was awkward and knocked the air from Maggie’s lungs. Before she had time to suck in air, Danielle was on her, falling towards her with her arm reaching back and ready to plant a fist square in her face.
Rolling to the side, Maggie missed the attack and rushed to her feet on shaking legs. Danielle was back on her feet, too, just as fast as Maggie.
“Bitch” Maggie swore, her tone lower than normal and gruff to ward off any suspicion of her identity. Danielle would be expecting Russians, and that was what Maggie gave her.
With a cry, Danielle shot forward again and lashed out with a foray of jabs. Maggie took the brunt of them, each one sorer than the other as Danielle began to build momentum.
Danielle was good. More than good.
But Maggie was better.
Letting Danielle believe she was gaining the upper hand, Maggie stumbled backwards, inching closer and closer to the foot of the stairs at the end of the hallway. Danielle twisted her hips and raised her leg into a kick.
Spotting the opportunity needed, Maggie choreographed herself with the kick and scooped Danielle’s leg into her arm. Maggie pulled the leg towards her in a death grip and reached forward for Danielle. Her fingers wrapped around the collar of the woman’s jacket and Maggie pulled her forwards.
With her leg pinned, Danielle was unable to do anything but go with it. Maggie stepped to the side as Danielle fell out from the top steps and she shoved the agent forward.
There was nothing but air at the top of the stairs, Danielle flew forward with the forced momentum and plummeted down the stairs. Maggie watched as she bumped down every step until reaching the bottom where she landed in a crumbled mess of limps.
A few broken ribs, maybe a fractured bone here or there in her arms and legs. Nothing that wouldn’t heal in time.
Certain Danielle wasn’t getting back up, Maggie ignored the guilty rumblings in her stomach and returned to the office.
“Maggie?” Emily asked, uncertain.
Maggie took off her balaclava and knelt by the table Emily was using to keep herself standing. “It’s me. Are you okay?”
“I think so,” Emily said, her voice sluggish from the drugs. “Are you?”
The fighting had stopped below on the works
hop floor and Ashton’s contacts were rallying up the fallen agents and binding their hands with plastic zip ties. That would keep them busy for a while once they came to.
“I’ve had worse,” Maggie said, holding Emily by the waist and wrapping the girl’s arm over her shoulder. “Now come on, let’s get you out of here.”
The agents may be down, but Maggie and Emily weren’t out of hot water just yet.
Chapter 15
Maggie said her farewells to the nameless driver and the rest of Ashton’s contacts. They fought well, and refrained from ending any lives like she asked, but Maggie would see the final part of her mission through alone. The less people who knew, the better.
The van drove off and out of the old shipyard, leaving Maggie and Emily in the pouring rain. Above the sky rumbled, the waves beyond the bay crashing amid a coming storm.
“Why aren’t we going with them?” Emily asked, teeth chattering.
Maggie took off her jacket and wrapped it around Emily’s shoulders. “We have somewhere else to be.”
It wasn’t too far from the warehouse, but it took longer than Maggie liked, thanks to sedatives still coursing through Emily’s veins.
They arrived at pier K with minutes to spare, and Maggie’s racing pulse relaxed once she spotted the vessel tethered and waiting for them. The captain of the RBS-11 was an ex-marine and a current member of the US Coast Guard. His face matched the photo Ashton sent along earlier that night for confirmation, a stern looking man with a weatherworn face and a thicket of salt and pepper hair. If anyone could get the Wallaces out of the city, it was him.
A woman in a dark trench coat spotted Maggie and Emily walking up the pier and ran to them.
Emily was a young clone of her mother, a beautiful woman in her forties with high cheekbones and a regal heir to her movements. She collected Emily in her arms and cried a wail into the wind
“My baby.”
“Mom,” said Emily, closing her eyes and snuggling into her mother’s embrace.
Ms. Wallace looked up to Maggie with glistening eyes. “You did it.”
The Witness Page 8
