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The Fog of Dreams

Page 82

by Justin Bell


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  Ryan Sandidge approached Agent Burndock as he walked towards the Strickland home, and Burndock cast him a questioning glare.

  "Aren't you off duty?" he asked.

  "Yeah, but one of the guys who Strickland offed yesterday was a buddy of mine. If he's coming back this way, I want to be here when he does."

  "Sorry to hear about Turner," Burndock said, feeling legitimately bad for what had happened to some of the freelancers during this project. In this line of work, sometimes people got hurt, and it was getting easier to cast the blame on William Strickland. Easier for some, anyway. Burndock still had a hard time with it.

  "Mostly I'm sorry for the fuck who killed him. I swear to you, boss. I will put a bullet in Strickland before this shit is done."

  "Let's hope so," Burndock replied, not really meaning it. His phone chirped.

  "Agent Burndock," he replied swiftly.

  "Burndock, this is Agent Strobl. We've been tasked with Satellite six-three-niner and are making our first pass over your area this morning." The voice was cool and calm.

  "What do we have?"

  "What we have is a single bogey moving towards your area, medium speed. Six miles out, moving towards you."

  Burndock lifted his arm and hand-signaled to a group of nearby NSA agents who dropped what they were doing and ran over, recognizing the urgency of his signal.

  "How is the bogey travelling, six-three-niner?" he asked.

  "Motorcycle, sir."

  Burndock covered the mouthpiece. "We've got him, boys. He's heading in this direction on the bike." Was Strickland that foolish? Past experience didn't agree with that assessment.

  The small group scattered towards their vehicles while Sandidge immediately ran for his own street bike, practically leaped on top of it. Burndock noticed him out of the corner of his eye and thumbed off the phone quickly.

  "Hey! Sandidge! Don't! Wait for the rest of us?"

  Before he could finish, he knew it was hopeless. Sandidge thrust his foot down, gunned the engine, and in a roar of 750cc power, the street bike hurtled down the dirt road, spraying a rooster tail of gravel. Burndock turned towards the others who had just started loading up the cars.

  "Get on the road, now! Before he blows this whole thing!"

 

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