Assignment- Danger A SpyCo Collection 4-6

by Craig A. Hart

  Is this Allcock fellow going to debate himself? Burke wondered. That would be something to see, for someone with his ego. How could he possibly stand to disagree with his own points?

  Burke found a seat and settled in. He would have preferred to sit in the middle of a row, to minimize the annoyance of people wanting through, but he wanted quick access to an aisle in case something went down. So he sat on the end of a row and grit his teeth to deal with the everlasting taps and murmurs of “Excuse me, might I just sneak through? Sorry, thank you.” That, along with the inevitable stepping on of toes, lowered his mood a good three notches.

  He’d hoped the lecture would be poorly attended, but nothing could have been further from the truth. With fifteen minutes to go before the commencement of the program, the hall was full and people were beginning to line the sides of the room.

  This place is going to be unbearable in twenty minutes, Burke thought. Too many hot and sweaty morons in one place. Where the hell is the fire marshal when you need him?

  In typical fashion, the event organizers attempted to distract the murmuring crowd by sending up some low-level faculty member to the microphone, who then tried to entertain the crowd by giving a history of the university. This recitation served only to agitate the assembly, already on edge not knowing who the second debater would be. By the time the speaker reached the middle of his rambling account, many in the audience seemed to be ready to storm the stage.

  “You a protester?”

  Burke looked over at an elderly man sitting next to him. “A what?”

  “Protester. You look disgruntled.”

  “Are there supposed to be protesters here?”

  “Don’t pay much attention to current affairs, do ya?”

  Burke almost laughed. As someone who was constantly at the center of global conflict, he was more attuned to current affairs than the leaders of most countries. But that didn’t mean he knew the local news for every city and burg on earth.

  “No,” he said, letting it go. “I guess not.”

  “Well, we got ourselves some moron young folks, college types, who have nothing better to do than march around with signs and be a nuisance. Heard on the news that a group of ‘em are planning to disrupt the debate.”

  “What’s their game?”

  The old man shrugged. “Guess they’re against nuke war.”

  “What a principled stance. I don’t know too many people who are for it. Do you?”

  By now, the opening speaker had given up and slunk from the stage, and the rumbling of the crowd increased. Then the house lights flickered and the noise settled a bit.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” said a deep, well-modulated voice from the overhead speakers, “thank you for joining us. As you may already know, Mr. Archibald Withers is unable to join us this evening. However, Dr. Leonard Allcock has agreed to debate another worthy opponent, and together, they will present to us all sides of the North Korean debate.”

  At once the crowd became silent, wondering who would be replacing Withers.

  “And now,” the voice said, “without further ado, I’d like to introduce—”

  The voice was abruptly cut off by a grotesque choking noise, then a thump and high-pitched, electronic squeal, as if the microphone had fallen to the floor. The entire hall sat in stunned silence, waiting in shock for what might come next.

  Two clicks sounded over the speakers and a different voice, this one a cheerful tenor, said,

  “Good evening, ladies and gents. Thank you for joining us tonight. Unfortunately, I must inform you there has been a change in programming. There will be no North Korea debate. Instead, you should all consider yourselves hostages.” Horrified cries rang out across the hall and the voice had to speak louder to be heard. “It will be better for everyone if you all remain calm. We do not wish to hurt you. We are in search of one person, who we have reason to believe is in this room. Everyone remain where you are. Do not move, do not speak, do not try to be a hero. If you do, this will happen.”

  A shot rang out from the side of the stage and Burke saw a muzzle flash.

  A scream came from the front row and a woman doubled over before slowly sliding from her seat and onto the floor. The crowd collectively gasped and a few screamed in fear and horror.

  “I apologize for the violence,” the voice said. “It was necessary to let all of you know we are serious and exhausted our supply of warnings. Disobey any order, and you will be killed on the spot. And let me say what should be obvious. Do not use your phones to contact help or transmit any information. I find that rude, so if you do, you will be killed, along with the person next to you. Remember, the faster we find who we are seeking, the faster we will release everyone else. Your cooperation will be of immense help in this endeavor. And now, let us begin the search.”

  PARK CURSED under her breath and took a quick look at all the exits. Each one was now manned by an armed guard, their faces covered in black cloth masks. This had to be about the missile technology. The heavy-handed oafs of Scorpion were making their move. But it wasn’t only about getting Allcock and, presumably, the tech. If they were there only for Allcock, they would have grabbed him from his dressing room and left without a trace, and without staging such a scene. No, it wasn’t just about obtaining the tech. It was about making sure no one else had it. They must be looking for her—unless, of course, they also knew about the SpyCo agent sitting several rows ahead of her. Park and Burke both worked for organizations with interest in the tech. And here they all were—Allcock, Park, and Burke—all in one neatly wrapped package.

  The thought of Burke caused a hitch in her brain as she slowly became aware of one very unpleasant fact. Current circumstances might throw them together, albeit briefly, onto the same team. Working together would be the only possibility of survival, and even that would be a longshot. She almost chuckled at the irony but stifled the urge. Instead, she surreptitiously felt in her jacket for her weapon. It was there: snug, compact, eager.

  BURKE SAT FROZEN in his chair, his mind racing and his pulse throbbing madly. His body longed to spring into action, but his mind kept him rooted where he sat. There was at least one sniper watching from the darkness backstage, and there could be more. And then there were the men stationed at the exits, automatic rifles held ready. Their very stances seemed to dare anyone to make a move. Burke loved a dare as much as the next testosterone-laced spy, but he could also calculate odds. And they were against him.

  As his internal struggle raged and his mind raced, looking for some sort of answer to the standoff, one presented itself in the form of a quick series of pops from the back of the hall. Each pop corresponded to a ski-masked door guard crumpling to the floor. The voice on the PA system, in obvious reaction to this turn of events, sounded slightly less cheerful. “Find that shoot—”

  Another pop cut the speaker off mid-word, and from the black curtain covering the wing at stage left, a short man in a nondescript black suit fell tree-like into view, still holding the microphone.

  Burke felt the odds shifting decidedly in his favor, but there was still the onstage sniper to deal with and he didn’t have a line of sight.

  PARK HAD no idea who had taken out five of her problems, but neither was she one to waste time pondering good fortune when it presented itself. From her seat, she had a clear view of the gunman who had fired on the front row. Park’s decision now was whether or not to reveal herself by taking the shot. She didn’t know if there were any more unfriendlies who had not yet shown themselves, but she obviously did know that Burke was in the house. If nothing else, playing her hand would mean revealing herself to him.

  Damn! Park prided herself on being able to make snap decisions in the face of dangerous situations, but there were too many unknowns to allow her to calculate a plan.

  At that moment, six people ran from backstage into the audience. Probably the searchers, Park thought. They might still make a quick attempt at finding whoever they were there for, in spite of t
he sour turn things had taken. Indeed, for a moment it appeared that was exactly what they had in mind as they fanned out, weapons in hand, and began running up the aisles.

  Then the almost innocent-sounding pops began again, and two of them fell. The other four took a quick look around, hesitated for the briefest of moments, and then bolted toward the exits, stepping over their fallen comrades in a hasty retreat. The shooting continued, and another fell before getting out.

  Hoping this would cause sufficient distraction, Park made up her mind. She pulled her weapon and squeezed off a single shot at the sniper, hitting him in the face.

  The hall broke into pandemonium as the audience abandoned any notion of remaining seated. Screams and chaotic motion turned the previously ordered crowd into a mob bent only on self-preservation. In the growing confusion, no one noticed Park still held her gun and was now looking around for any more threats. She ran through her options. She didn’t have Burke, she didn’t have Allcock, and she didn’t know for certain who Scorpion was looking for. Her best option now was to find a way out without getting trampled in the human stampede that was now unfolding. She moved to the back of the hall as the wave of humanity pressed forward. Upon reaching the back wall, she pressed against it and began moving to the side. An exit loomed ahead, and she saw that she could probably make it out safely. As she passed by the lighting booth, she saw a rifle barrel protruding but could not see the shooter. She considered trying to get a better look at the person who had saved her, even if unwittingly, but her luck had been pressed far enough for one night and Park allowed the crowd to sweep through the doors and out of the building.

  AS BURKE CONTINUED to scan the auditorium for an idea, the searchers ran from the stage and began fanning out. When they were fired on, he saw an Asian woman stand and fire a single shot toward the stage. It was Park. He reached inside his jacket for his own weapon just as the crowd erupted into motion, causing him to lose sight of the enemy agent in the confusion.

  I do not like the way this woman keeps showing up wherever I go, Burke thought, pointing his gun toward the floor.

  The lecture was clearly not going to be the way he got close to Allcock and, although Park was in firing distance, it didn’t seem to be the way he would get close to her either. The best plan now would be to get out of the auditorium intact and regroup—live to fight another day. First, however, he needed to find out who had just taken out so many unfriendlies in such short order.

  After the first shots started eliminating the door guards, he’d spotted the shooter’s nest: the lighting booth at the rear of the house. This room held not only the controls for the stage lights, but a pair of spots which, presumably, were to shine on the two participants in the debate. They were lit and, though not focused on stage, they did eliminate the possibility of seeing into the booth from the hall.

  The crowd was in full blown panic, feeding upon its own energy. Burke’s clearest path to the rear of the house was straight back, over the seats. Although the former occupants of those seats were pushing toward the aisles, their progress was slow, and Burke had to shove more than one wide-eyed innocent out of his way.

  After a scramble that left him breathing hard and sweating, he vaulted over the last row of seats and found the door to the booth. It was, of course, locked, and Burke was just about to kick it in with great style when it flew open, revealing a grinning Dot who still held an M110 sniper rifle.

  “I told you I could still castrate a fly. Get your ass in here before you get trampled.”

  Burke stood, dumbfounded. With a look of disgust, Dot grabbed his arm and pulled him into the booth, where Burke finally found his voice.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Killing rat-bastards. I told you I don’t underestimate Scorpion. They are still a force to be reckoned with, and I still monitor their comms as best I can. There was some chatter about this event, and it didn’t take a nanoscientist to figure out they guessed both you and that Korean whore would be here. They planned to get both of you out of the way and snatch up Allcock as the cherry on top.”

  “Yeah, I saw her. She took out the shooter who was on the stage.”

  “She must have been seated just right to get a clear LOS, because all I could see was the muzzle flash.”

  “Me too. So I guess I’ll have to send her a thank-you note for that.”

  “Pin it to her chest after you kill her. Now, would you like to get the fuck out of here?” Dot pointed to a door at the back of the lighting booth, and Burke opened it to find it led to a small, staff-only parking lot, which was empty aside from a powder-blue Prius and a 1971 lime green Chevy Impala big enough to house the UN General Assembly.

  “I’m guessing the Prius isn’t yours,” Burke said.

  “You’re a genius. I’ve taken shits bigger than that thing. I prefer something that feels like you have a car wrapped around you when you’re inside.” She opened the trunk and tossed the rifle in, then threw Burke the keys. “You’re driving.”

  “Gee whiz. Really? I can’t believe you’re letting me drive this showpiece!”

  “Give me the keys back. I’m going to run over your head with it instead.”

  They got in and Burke fired up the engine, which roared to life, then purred like a kitten. “This actually is kinda sweet,” he said as he put it in gear and backed out of the parking spot. He exited the lot into a scene of pandemonium. The crowd was still pouring out of the building and, to the credit of local law enforcement, there was already a full response team forming, including an armored Special Tasks and Rescue truck, out of which a half-dozen officers dressed in riot gear and holding automatic weapons were exiting. Burke was stopped by a very young-looking uniformed officer almost immediately.

  “There’s been an incident,” the cop said. “You can’t go left.” As he was speaking, barriers were already being placed to seal off the street in front of the hall.

  “No worries,” Burke said. “I’m just trying to take my grandma to the Senior Day Center for bingo.”

  “Bingo, hell!” Dot shouted. “I’m boffing the day nurse! He’s a hunk!”

  The cop blushed comically and waved them through.

  As they drove away, Dot delivered a surprisingly solid punch to Burke’s shoulder. “Senior Day Center, huh? I’m beginning to wish I really had poisoned your pie.”

  “Hey, it worked, didn’t it? He let us go without looking in the trunk, which would have been a little embarrassing under the circumstances.”

  “Me being embarrassing is what got us out of there. He looked twelve. Not equipped to deal with a dirty old lady.”

  “I feel his pain,” Burke said. “I consider myself worldly and jaded, but even I’m not equipped to deal with you.”

  “I’d guess you’re equipped well enough,” Dot said, cackling dirtily. “But if you ever want an honest opinion, just let me know.”

  6

  You’re going to have to come up with another way to get to Allcock, obviously,” Dot said as Burke drove toward her house. “I really don’t know what you hoped to achieve by attending the debate anyway.”

  “I was hoping to develop an informed opinion on this serious topic.”

  Dot looked at Burke, yet again, as if he was crazy.

  After a moment, Burke laughed. “Now I’m fucking with you! I was actually hoping to scope out Allcock’s entourage to look for a viable way to him. Besides, wasn’t my going your idea? You gave me the ticket.”

  “Entourage? He’s not a rapper, he’s a scientist. Scientists don’t have entourages. And it was a stupid idea, so it couldn’t have been mine. Turn right.”

  Burke yanked the wheel of the huge car to accommodate Dot’s last second request, squealing the tires. “Wait, your house isn’t this way.”

  “I know where my goddamn house is, Burke. Pull over here.”

  Burke pulled the car into the small lot she’d indicated. It was between a liquor store and a little apartment building.

  Burke lo
oked at the two-story housing block. He estimated it probably held probably four units. “Who are we going to see here?”

  “We’re going to see Ollie, who is going to sell me a couple bottles of hooch,” Dot said, directing Burke’s attention away from the apartments and toward the store. She was already getting out of the car. Burke followed suit.

  “I’m perfectly capable of buying a bottle of liquor without an escort.”

  “Maybe I want to buy something too.”

  “You’re a lousy liar, but it’s cute that you’re worried about me. Or maybe you’re afraid to stay in the car by yourself. I admit, it’s not a stellar neighborhood. Come on, then.”

  Burke followed her into the store, noticing a neon advertising sign in the window bearing the words “FOSTERS LAGER.” He paused at the open door as he had a momentary flashback to the first time he ever tasted the famed Australian beer. It had been at an end-of-semester block party at the university in his hometown, and he and two other friends from his high school had decided to crash it and maybe scoop up a college chick who was too drunk to worry about the fact that they obviously didn’t belong there. He hadn’t achieved that goal, but he did find a washtub full of ice and Fosters, and grabbed one, marveling at the size—it was as big as an oilcan—and at the crisp flavor.

  “You going to stand in the door all day, Nancy?” Dot asked, shaking him out of his reverie. He walked inside.

  Dot approached the counter and addressed the man behind the counter. “What’s up, Ollie, you thieving bastard?”

  Ollie was a mild-looking man, paunchy and bald, save for two tufts of curly white hair at each side of his abnormally square head. “Just the usual, Dottie, my love. Overcharging old ladies for their booze.”