The Kill Order (30 page)
Washington, D.C.
C
harles Gilroy telephoned Parker Kane the moment he arrived at the ATLAS safe house. “We’re here,” he said, then waited to hear what Kane wanted him to do.
After a long stretch of silence on the other end of the phone, Kane finally spoke. “You’re sure this is the right place? The girl is there?”
Gilroy looked at the apartment building through the binoculars. “We believe so. I assume the orders are the same?”
“There’s been a change of plans,” Kane said. “The president has rescinded the kill order.”
Gilroy could have told him that would happen. Election year. Last thing you want out is that you’re killing U.S. citizens. Especially young ones. “That makes it easier for us, then. We have the same goal as the military.”
“Actually it changes things. I can’t take the risk that the military finds her first. Kill her before they get to her.”
“What about Stiles? And the program?”
“If I’m arrested, Stiles is going down. I’ll make sure of it. Don’t call me until she’s in a body bag.”
Gilroy rubbed at the bridge of his nose, tired from the long day’s surveillance and constantly looking through the binoculars. If he had his way, he’d force entry into the building. It was a ten-story structure, bordered by an alley along the back, and on the sides, a mix of old office buildings that were being gutted and converted to condos and lofts, at least according to the billboard advertising the possibility of future sales. The target building was accessed with a security key in the front, which opened a set of glass double doors, and a side door. There was an entrance in the back at the alley, a wrought-iron rolling gate, accessed by remote, but apparently it wasn’t used except on Thursdays when the trash was picked up. Right now he had visual of the front and a partial view of the side. Enough streetlights kept the area lit up so that they didn’t need night vision goggles.
“They’re leaving the apartment.” The transmission was from Jeffries. He was parked down the street opposite Gilroy and had a better line of sight to the front doors, where a delivery van was currently parked, blocking Gilroy’s view.
“As in all of them?” Gilroy asked.
“The two agents.”
Gilroy adjusted his binoculars. Damned delivery van. “Is the girl with them?” he asked.
“Doesn’t look like it. Should we make entry?”
He was parked about four hundred feet away, just down the street, and when the vehicle came into view, he watched the pair through his binoculars, trying to decide what steps to take. “Doesn’t make sense . . . Has to be someone there with her.”
“Who?” Jeffries asked. “The two agents leaving the building look like the ones in the surveillance photos from Venice. Unless it’s a trap.”
The possibility certainly existed, but he doubted that they’d leave her alone. She was too valuable an asset. “Jeffries, follow the car. Halford, likewise. I want to know where they’re going. Make sure the girl’s not in the car with them. Do
not
lose them.”
“Copy.”
The vehicle pulled out, then drove south. A moment later, Jeffries’s car followed, then Halford’s. Unfortunately that left only Shipley, who was on the opposite corner.
The apartment was on the third story, the windows facing the front. What if she wasn’t in there? The curtains were pulled, and he couldn’t see a thing, he thought as a familiar-looking SUV drove past, then on into the apartment parking lot. “Shit. Tell me that vehicle doesn’t belong to one of General Woodson’s men?”
“What vehicle?”
“Black SUV, just pulled in the drive.” He focused on the plates. Government issued, military. “Definitely one of Woodson’s guys.”
“Military? Here?”
Gilroy ran his hands through his hair. “Shit!”
“You said that already.”
“That’s because they’re under orders to bring her in. Our op has changed. We are no longer bringing her in alive.
We
have the kill order.”
“Sir? The military vehicles?”
He focused in on the vehicle, saw it contained two men. He thought he recognized the passenger. Their presence all but confirmed that the girl was there. At least they were acting on the same intelligence. “Engage them,” he told Shipley. “Go up, pretend you live there, whatever the hell it takes.”
Halford came on the radio. “They’re driving into a shopping center. Parking . . .”
It took him a moment to switch gears. Halford. Following the two agents. “Stay on them.”
“They’re both getting out of their car, walking into the store.”
“Check the car,” he said, keeping his eye on the SUV, wondering what the hell they were up to.
“She’s not in there.”
A movement from the third floor window caught his eye, and he aimed his binoculars that way, only to see the curtains dropping, as though someone had been looking out. When he turned his attention back to the SUV, he realized one of the men had gotten out, was pointing up.
Shit. They were going to get her first.
“Shipley. Get on that SUV. Ask for directions, bump it, do whatever it takes.”
A burst of static hit the radio as though Shipley’s transmission was cut short. But a moment later, he was back on the air again. “Someone’s coming out the side door.”
Gilroy turned his binoculars that way, catching Shipley’s car as he drove to the front of the building. Gilroy didn’t have visual of the door, since it was inset. There was a narrow cement walkway that led through the landscaping of rocks and low shrubs and a few patches of gray snow where the sun never hit. But a moment later, he saw a hooded figure exiting. Female. Every nerve in his body screamed that she was the one. “I’ll check it out. Get on that SUV.”
“Copy.”
He pulled forward, slowly, watched the girl looking around as though waiting for someone. A bit of dark hair was just visible beneath the hood—short, dark hair, and when a gust of wind blew, catching at her hood, he saw a flash of pink. It was everything he could do not to hit the gas and race over there, spooking her, alerting the military and anyone else in the area. She stood there a moment, then started walking toward the alley. Finally, something working in his favor.
“It’s her,” he said.
Shipley radioed back. “You want me over there?”
“Negative. You keep them engaged. I do not want them coming this direction.”
“Copy.”
“Halford, Jeffries, forget the two agents. Get back here. Now!”
He watched as she strolled toward the alley, her hands in her pockets. And then he glanced toward the front of the building, where Shipley was pulling up to the SUV, hopefully drawing their attention. Last thing he needed was for them to discover the girl. Or discover him. He’d be dead, and she’d be in custody.
He wasn’t about to let that happen.
A car approached from the street adjacent to the alley as he was about to make a right turn, and he wondered for an instant if someone else was on the hunt. Didn’t look like a military vehicle. Green compact sedan. When it kept going, the driver, a blond woman, not even noticing the girl, he relaxed, made the turn, cruised slowly toward the alley.
The girl turned into the alley, and he pulled his foot off the gas pedal, letting the car idle.
This was going to be beautiful. There was no one back here. He reached over, unsnapped his holster, then steered in. She looked back, saw him, her eyes going wide, and then she bolted.
Gilroy stepped on the gas, was nearly to her when she darted to the right, through a catwalk between two brick warehouses under construction. “In the alley,” he called on the radio. He hit the brakes, screeching to a stop, threw the door open, ran after her. Damn, she was fast. When she reached the end of the catwalk, she turned left. Out of his view. Her footsteps echoed between the buildings, then suddenly it was quiet.
Gun drawn, he emerged from the catwalk, and realized why the sound had stopped. There was a chain-link fence blocking her from going farther.
Gilroy stopped where he was, a mere twenty-five feet away from the prize. She stood there like a cornered rabbit—no, like a cornered little punk rocker, her back to the fence, waiting for the inevitable.
He smiled, aimed his weapon at her. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said.
“Then why do you have a gun?”
“There’re some other people around here I don’t trust. They do want to hurt you. Kill you, in fact. Trust me. We want you alive.”
She took a step back. “I don’t care. I’m not going with you.”
“Not an option. You’re trapped.”
“And what if I start screaming?”
“You scream, or make any noise in general, and they’re gonna spray this area with bullets and kill you. Me? I’m wearing a ballistic vest, so I might survive. It’s a chance I’m gonna have to take. You? Not a good option.”
She glanced behind her, then up, probably assessing if she could make it over the chain-link fence. “I think I’ll take my chances.”
The last thing he wanted was for her to make any noise, or the military would be killing him. “Not a good choice.”
She simply stared at him.
He didn’t like that look in her eye. The deadly calm. And for a moment, he was actually worried. “You think you’re some badass, because you’re all dressed in black? I’m really going to enjoy this.”
Her hand came up quicker than he realized, and just when his mind registered that it was moving, that he should do something, he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. He stumbled back, dropped the gun, vaguely aware that she was approaching him.
“I might not be a badass,” she said as she walked over, picked up his gun, aimed it at him. “But I’m good with a knife.”
And it was only then that he realized this girl was much older than the one he was looking for.
Not the same girl at all.
L
isette kept the gun trained on her would-be killer as he gripped at the knife wound in his arm, the blood seeping through his fingers.
“I wasn’t really going to shoot you,” he said.
“Then you shouldn’t have pointed your gun at me,” she replied as she dug her Bluetooth out of her pocket and tucked it on her ear. “Did you copy all that?” she asked Marc. The Bluetooth had been on the entire time.
“A bit muffled, but yeah. Where are you?”
“Took the catwalk to the construction site.”
“Why there?”
“He got here a little faster than I was counting.”
“We’re on our way.”
She eyed the man on the ground, recognized him as one of the fake U.S. marshals. “What’s your real name?”
“Charles Gilroy.”
“You’re the guy who pretended to be WitSec.”
“I’m bleeding all over the place. An ambulance would be nice.”
She looked down at his arm. “Hold it tight. It’s not arterial.”
“You a medical doctor, too?”
“If I wanted to kill you I would have aimed for the throat.”
“Aren’t you just the super-duper agent.”
“Don’t make me regret restraining myself,” she said as Marc drove up. He got out of the car, walked over. “What took you so long?”
“Had to take care of the tail. We better hurry. Those operatives from the military are about to make entry into the apartment. Pretty sure we don’t want to be around when they figure out she’s gone. And boy wonder’s working his magic from a new spot.”
Marc leaned over, grabbed Gilroy by the arm, pulling him to his feet. Lisette kept her weapon aimed on him as Marc patted him down, then walked him back to the car, using his keys to pop open the trunk. “Get in.”
“You serious?”
“About not getting blood on my upholstery? Yes. There’s a rubber mat in the trunk. So much easier to hose off.”
Gilroy stood there, not moving. Marc leaned in closer. “Either get in or I’ll put you in. And unlike my partner, I am not likely to restrain myself.”
Gilroy climbed into the trunk.
“You should put some pressure on that wound.”
“Go fu—”
Marc slammed the lid closed. “Your funeral.”
Lisette slid into the passenger seat as Marc got behind the wheel, started the car, made a three-point turn, then drove out. She looked over at him. “Everything else go okay?”
“So far, so good.”
“What are we going to do with him?”
“Get him patched up for starters. Why the knife?”
“He was pointing a gun at me.”
“I mean why didn’t you shoot him? You had a gun.”
“He said he was wearing a vest. And I thought we didn’t want any noise.”
Marc sped off in the opposite direction as the apartment building, putting plenty of distance between them and Gilroy’s men.
“What happened to the tail he put on you?” she asked.
“The car they were driving in was reported stolen. Apparently there was a computer glitch at the Department of Motor Vehicles.”
“It happens.”
“As do anonymous calls to the police.”
She leaned back in her seat, smiling, wondering what else Izzy had up his sleeve. Finally, something was going right.