Muffled Echoes

by G. K. Parks

  “I thought we got them all.” I blinked a few times. “Damn.” What was happening was beyond my comprehension. How many of Shade’s soldiers had ransacked the building? How many cops were dead because of it? Shit.

  “Agents,” the commander barked, “we’re ready to move. You’ve seen the crates, so you know what they look like. Once we get inside, I want the two of you to secure them. We don’t know if any friendlies remain inside. Two officers normally work the desk, but it’s protocol to secure the armory and evidence locker if under attack. So don’t get trigger happy. We move on three.” He looked at his team. “Fan out. Stay low. And stay alive.”

  They moved as a unit toward the doors. I watched the signals being exchanged and the positions modified. Then the doors were kicked in, and the tactical team entered two at a time. Jablonsky moved ahead of me.

  “Stay behind me,” Mark growled.

  We entered low, remaining hidden behind the counter while the ESU team continued through the metal gate into the evidence storeroom. No one fired a shot. The only sounds were the footfalls of the tactical team. The silence was unnerving. I edged along the counter, following Jablonsky through the gate. This was the operatives’ stronghold, so they must be hidden deep inside the storeroom.

  Turning, I checked behind the counter, seeing a dead police officer. Rage boiled inside of me, but I kept moving. The shelves were crammed full. The newest additions should be somewhere easy to spot. They wouldn’t have been cataloged yet, so they must be in a specific place to separate them from older evidence.

  The storeroom looked like it could go on for miles. The shelves were fully packed, numbered, and categorized based on date, case, and possibly department. The shelves went practically to the ceiling, destroying visibility. They stood at least five across, creating various paths and hiding places. How the hell were we going to find the boxes in a room this large that contained numerous unfriendlies?

  “We’ll check the perimeter,” Jablonsky whispered, reading my mind as we continued moving at a crouch.

  The tactical team hadn’t said a word as they continued to spread out, checking between the shelves for signs of the enemy. I expected gunfire, not total silence. I heard a noise behind us, and I spun around, sweeping my aim 180 degrees. But I didn’t see anyone.

  “Where are they?” I asked. “I thought this was their stronghold.”

  “I don’t like this,” Jablonsky said when we were halfway through the evidence store.

  He held up his hand to stop our procession and lay flat on the floor. At the base of the shelving was a few inches of space, and he was using that space to check the next aisle for signs of an ambush. Silently, he stood up. Holding up two fingers, he signaled that I go back the way we came while he continued forward.

  Nodding in agreement, I backtracked our steps. Coming to the opening, I edged to the corner and peered around. The men he spotted were two of the tactical team members. One of them noticed me and gave the all clear signal. Jablonsky came around and joined us.

  “Where the fuck are they?” I whispered.

  The tactical team shook their heads. “We’re looking. Have you located the weapons?”

  “Not yet,” Jablonsky said. “Any idea where you store the newest arrivals?”

  “For a large shipment like that, probably in one of the corners. It gets cataloged before getting shelved, so the evidence piles up somewhere,” the ESU guy said. “Find it and stay with it. We’ll find you.” The tactical unit resumed its sweep, leaving us to continue the search.

  We returned to the outer edge of the storeroom, continuing our check of the perimeter, but I felt eyes on me. They were here; the mercenaries that Shade recruited were close. They were watching us, probably laughing at us. Any second they’d make their presence known.

  Jablonsky stopped, pointing to a large assortment of boxes, folders, and evidence bags that littered the entire side wall in front of us. We’d already walked the other two sides of the storeroom, so this had to be it. I recognized the five crates from Pepper. We’d found them.

  The feeling of impending doom returned with a vengeance, and I studied our surroundings. The shelves across from the crates were fully stocked, leaving no spaces for an ambush. The area directly in front and behind us appeared clear, but it felt like a trap.

  “Mark,” I hissed, “wait.” He had taken a few steps toward the crates to make sure we’d found the right ones. “Something’s off.”

  He nodded, leery of the opening between the shelves a dozen feet away. Bypassing our prize, we continued down the aisle, checking for signs of the enemy. Jablonsky dashed across the opening, and we both took up corners, checking to make sure the next aisle over was clear. When no danger presented itself, we returned to the crates.

  At the far end of the last aisle, two ESU team members emerged. They spotted us, not showing any signs of having located their targets. Maybe the radio chatter had been incorrect. Perhaps the mercenaries had already ransacked the storeroom and left. It’d explain how they had been so heavily armed, assuming they hadn’t arrived with a boatload of artillery on their persons.

  In the distance, the ESU commander called out “clear”, and the rest of his team began echoing the sentiment. Jablonsky lowered his gun and reached for the crate, giving the heavy lid a shove. I heard the grenade hit the ground before I saw it.

  “Grenade,” I shouted. We dove for cover at the end of the row of crates, knowing that the rest of the aisle was devoid of protection. Thankfully, the grenade didn’t explode; it emitted thick plumes of opaque smoke. “It’s an ambush.”

  From the sounds I heard, I couldn’t tell where the enemy was coming from. But they were coming in force. Wood splintered, and the lid on the crate shifted. Through the thick plumes, I couldn’t tell what was around me. Jablonsky was at my side. His measured breaths reassured me that he hadn’t moved, but we were blind.

  Gunshots ripped through the air. They were close. Too close, like they had been fired from right next to me. The smoke was beginning to dissipate, and I cautioned a glance over the top of the crate. A man was firing from behind my cover position. I lunged, tackling him to the ground. He used the rifle to knock me off of him, but Jablonsky grabbed the barrel of his gun and tore it from the shooter’s hands. Then he swung the butt at the guy’s head, connecting with a resounding thud that put the assailant down for the count.

  “Trojan horse,” Jablonsky whispered. Visibility wasn’t ideal, which was why we weren’t returning fire. I suspected that ESU was being extremely judicious with their shots as well. “We need to get away from here to improve our odds. Let’s move.”

  Remaining ducked, Jablonsky led the retreat to the end of the aisle. Visibility greatly improved, and he turned to make sure I was behind him. In that split second, I didn’t see the shooter, but I saw the AK aiming at my boss.

  “Down,” I screamed, loud enough that shots were fired from every direction at my location. I moved to intervene behind the shelf, and the AK fired, narrowly missing Jablonsky who had hit the deck. My boss came up firing, and the impact of his bullet made a wet, crunching sound, followed by a thud. “You good?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” Jablonsky said, kicking the gun from the dead guy’s hands while we took cover at the end of the shelving.

  I tightened my left-handed grip on the thirty-eight and took a deep breath, sensing that the Shade operatives were moving in on us. They had been concealed by the smoke a few feet away, so it’d only be a couple of seconds before they found us. Jablonsky had an assault rifle in both hands and peeked around the edge.

  “ESU wanted us to stay put. They might as well have asked us to be sitting ducks,” Mark commented. “Can you handle the right?”

  “Sure.” I braced my cast against the metal frame of the shelf and leaned over. As soon as I did, gunfire broke out.

  Pulling away from the corner, I inhaled deeply. This wasn’t good. I didn’t know where the attackers had been hiding or how many we were dealing with
. So far, we’d taken down two. And with the dozen ESU members patrolling the room, the odds should be in our favor, but it didn’t feel like it. The shots were getting closer, as were the sounds of footsteps.

  Sneaking another glance, I saw a man creeping along, pressed against the side of the shelf. I spun around, keeping as much of my body protected by the boxes and corner while I stretched my left arm straight against the side and fired directly at him. The move surprised him, and I made a shoulder shot. The attacker stumbled, and someone shot him from behind.

  Not waiting to see if he had been killed by his own team, I spun back into a cover position, hearing more shots ring out. Jablonsky fired several rounds before making a move to the endcap on the next aisle. He caught my eye and signaled that three more were heading for us.

  Scooting over, I peeked around the edge where Jablonsky had been, seeing ESU perform a couple of takedowns. Jablonsky glanced back around, firing again. It was only after he lowered his gun that I realized just how loud the battle had been. There had been commands being shouted, but I hadn’t heard anything besides the gunfire.

  “Clear,” someone from ESU yelled. “Target down.”

  “Affirmative, targets down,” someone else responded.

  The smoke had abated, and near the crates were five dead and one unconscious terrorist. Or were they mercenaries? Dammit, I still hadn’t figured out exactly what these assholes were.

  More gunfire was heard at the other end of the storeroom followed by “clear.”

  “Clear,” Jablonsky added, stepping away from the men he killed. We stepped out of our cover positions, surveying the damage. Large sections of evidence had been knocked off the shelves and strewn across the floor. “They were using the evidence boxes and shelves to hide their positions.”

  “That’s fucked up,” the ESU commander said. He exchanged looks with his team. “What’s the final count?”

  “Eleven,” one of his team members responded.

  “Eleven?” I asked, and he nodded. I’d only seen these assholes move in pairs. It should have been ten or twelve, not eleven. We missed someone. I voiced my concern, but I was met with shrugs.

  “There are officers outside. If someone got past us, they didn’t get far,” the commander stated.

  Jablonsky looked uneasily at the weapons crates. “Check the rest of the crates and make sure someone isn’t hiding inside.”

  We waited while the crates were all opened and searched, but we didn’t find anyone inside. From what we gathered, they’d repositioned the boxes on the shelves and the row of crates to conceal their positions behind the evidence, not inside of it, but it didn’t hurt to check.

  The doors to the evidence room burst open, and another ESU team entered. The rest of the building had been successfully cleared, and medical teams were triaging the victims. Jablonsky and I made our way out of the room and back upstairs to the counterterrorism unit, but something continued to nag at me. I was positive that we’d missed a target.

  Thirty-three

  “Oh, god,” I said, reading through the latest count, “this is brutal.” Thirty-nine police officers had been killed, and another hundred and sixteen had been injured. I wasn’t entirely sure how severe the injuries had to be in order for them to make it onto the list, but I assumed it meant that at least a paramedic checked them out. “How did this happen? How could I let this happen?”

  “You didn’t, Parker,” Lucca insisted. In an uncharacteristic move, he stepped behind my chair and rubbed my shoulders. “This is entirely Shade’s fault. Not yours.”

  “Do you remember being at Quantico? Do you remember the exercises and drills we had to perform in the event of a terrorist attack?”

  “Yeah.” He swallowed. “We can’t always win.”

  “That’s bullshit. We could do better. We could try harder. We should have figured it out sooner. I should have remembered. I could have stopped this.” He let go of my shoulders and spun my chair around. Then he knelt down and hugged me. “Ouch,” I hissed, pushing him away. Whatever alternate reality this was, I didn’t care for it.

  He let go, and I turned my chair away from him. “This is not your fault. Blame Behr and those fucks at Homeland that dumped this in your lap without properly assessing any of it. Blame the asshole cops that arrested you and had the living daylights beaten out of you. Blame me for not reading the intel sooner and not breaking Horvat, or blame the cybercrimes unit for taking forever to hack into Shade’s website and message boards and find out they had PMCs preparing a strike. Because honestly, Alex, there’s enough blame and regret to pass around to everyone.”

  I shook my head and went back to writing my incident and after action reports. After the shooting started, everything became a blur of nonstop action broken up by brief periods of inaction. I had to recount how I’d acquired Sergeant Evers piece and precise locations of shots fired for the incident reports. The logistics to determine what happened would be a nightmare, and I wasn’t sure what agency would be tasked with reviewing everyone’s account. The paperwork would be a beast. At least that wasn’t my problem. My problem was recounting everything that happened in the last few hours in my shell-shocked state.

  Finally, I hit print, spinning my chair away from the desk. Lucca was working at his desk, but he seemed keenly aware of my movements. He stopped what he was doing to watch me retrieve the hard copies from the printer.

  “It was easier to type these things with two hands,” I said, hoping for some levity.

  “Seriously, Parker, how are you holding up?” he asked.

  “Much better than 155 police officers.” There was that dark, morbid sense of humor.

  “Jablonsky said you were shot,” Lucca said, failing horribly at keeping things lighthearted.

  “Not really. Bullets were fired, followed by a physical altercation, and then there was some blood.” I held out my report. “Do you want to proofread this for me?”

  He took it from my hand, scanning through the pages of details. “What’d the paramedics say? Maybe you’re one of the 116 on the list.”

  “Great, that narrows the count to 154.” I sighed. “You didn’t pop up for a routine checkup or anything, did you? Maybe we can knock this number down even more.”

  Lucca handed the reports back to me. “Did they think you were shot?”

  “They said it was a flesh wound.” I didn’t want to bother getting triaged with those who actually needed help, but given my recent track record, Jablonsky insisted. The paramedics cleaned it with some antiseptic, but it was little more than a scratch. “It was probably the result of the physical altercation, but they happened in such close proximity to one another that Lt. Tinsley thought I’d taken fire. Jablonsky just went with her assessment.”

  Lucca nodded. “Good, I was afraid you had sugarcoated something in your report.”

  “Now I lie in my reports? Thanks.”

  “Parker, stop.” He looked exasperated. “It’s been a long ass day. Go home.”

  “There’s too much to be done. We don’t know if another attack has been planned. Anything could happen. This is an all hands situation.”

  “And you are on medical leave,” Jablonsky said, stepping out of his office and into the middle of our conversation, “so all hands doesn’t apply to you.” He offered a mirthless smile. “You saved my bacon already today. Twice, maybe. I can’t keep count anymore. Go home before it becomes three, and I’m forced to resign.”

  “What about the men we’ve taken into custody?” I asked. “They need to be questioned.”

  “That’s being handled. The entire Bureau is on top of that.” Mark glanced around the room. “Anyone who might be involved has been taken to a black site. We’ll get answers. In the meantime, cybercrimes and our tech wizards are monitoring everything for suspicious communications. If we hear anything, I’ll call.” He studied my face for a moment. “The news story hasn’t broken yet about the attack. We’ve managed to keep the media outlets from reporting yet, but
the dam will break soon. Once that happens, none of us will be able to slip away without notice, so you should go now.”

  “Okay.”

  Truthfully, I didn’t know how any of us were still standing. Today had been devastating. I imagined it was the muscle memory from our intensive training that was keeping us going, and I marveled at the brave men and women who had endured much worse in recent years but persevered. They were real heroes.

  Despite my acquiescence, I remained at my desk. I didn’t know how to leave. This wasn’t a nine to five job. I couldn’t just call it quits because it was late, especially not tonight. Not after everything that happened. Without realizing it, I spent another two hours at my computer, reading through the initial reports and reevaluating the facts that we already had. However, my mind was shot.

  “Alexis,” Lucca said softly, “you should be at home.”

  “So should a lot of people.” The grief was setting in. “There’s gotta be something here to keep this from happening again.”

  “I hope so.” He pulled on the back of my chair. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your car. I need to stretch my legs.”

  “Eddie,” I growled.

  “Alex,” he admonished, “you’re done for the night. Even Jablonsky’s taking a couple of hours to regroup. No one expects the two of you to deal with this. You already spent several hours being debriefed and even longer writing reports.” He glanced at my computer screen, making sure that it didn’t contain anything new, and hit the power button. “Let’s go.”

  “Fine.” I grabbed my belongings and pushed away from the desk. We took the elevator down to the garage in silence, and when the doors opened, Lucca waited for me to exit. “You better find a way to put an end to Shade. This can’t happen again.”

  “It won’t.”

  “How do you know that?” I asked, feeling my emotions transverse the entire map.

  “No one here will let it happen.” He glanced around before leaning close, like he was sharing a secret. “Behr ordered a raid on Shade’s HQ. It’s going down tonight. A team has been formed and is being briefed. It looks like our agents abroad will be seeing some action soon. Keep it under wraps. This is supposed to be handled quickly and quietly.”