standing in front of the plate-glass window of Four Courts with no protection in sight, nothing at all to stop the rounds that were about to tear into me. I knew my best bet was an alley to my rear about thirty feet away, but from the time of the first round until now, I computed that I wouldn’t make it there before I was hit.
The man was still spraying rounds on full automatic, the bullets shattering the plate glass to my front, stitching toward me like a sewing machine. I saw the man’s gun hand begin to lose control from the recoil, giving me a sliver of hope. The car continued forward at a slow rate of speed, only fifteen feet away.
Jerking upward, I tried to rip the MP5 out of the man’s hands, the weapon cycling with the rounds blasting skyward, inches from my head. The man fought me to regain control, and almost succeeded, when his driver decided to accelerate, causing the weapon to be wrenched out of his hands. The car hurtled forward with its tires squealing again.
I watched the vehicle race away, then scanned for any other danger. I caught movement over my right shoulder and trained my weapon on the threat. A man was exiting the alley I had passed on my way to the pub. The same alley I had been going to use for cover. He had a pistol in his hand and was looking for a target. I let loose with the remaining rounds in the MP5’s magazine, chipping the bricks around him and forcing him to retreat back down the alley.
The air was split by the sound of sirens approaching. I looked at the couple shot earlier, seeing the man sitting up holding his shoulder. The woman lay on her back, rolling left and right, her abdomen sprouting a red stain, dripping on the concrete. I knew I should help them, but had to make a hard choice. My conscience screamed for me to stay, but the man in the alley told me this wasn’t random, and that I was the target. I decided to leave the scene. I dropped the weapon and took off at a dead sprint back to the Metro station across the street.
74
Two blocks away, Lucas was on an encrypted radio trying to get a handle on what had occurred. “What’s the status? What happened?”
Mason came through first. “The target came alone. The girl wasn’t with him. He didn’t give me time to set up. He came out of the Metro at a dead run. I didn’t have time to give the mounted team a warning order. By the time I called, he was almost at the pub. The mounted team was forced to rush, alerting the target that they were coming before they could engage.”
The mounted team cut in. “The psycho didn’t run for cover like you said. He ran right at us. He grabbed my weapon right out of my fucking hand. We were forced to exfil.”
Lucas cursed. If they were lucky, Pike would think it was a random drive-by. That would be a break, but wasn’t assured. The hope was crushed by the next call.
“This is shooter one. I saw what occurred with the mounted team. I tried to get a clean shot but was compromised. He suppressed my fire with the weapon from the mounted team.” Shooter one’s clinical description broke down. “He came close to fucking killing me. I didn’t get off a shot.”
Lucas dropped his mike in frustration. Pike definitely knew it was a setup now, and that he was being hunted.
“Lucas, there are about five hundred hotels next to Metro stations. There’s no way I can neck it down without more information.”
Kurt tore out of the Four Courts pub, trying to ascertain what had occurred. Seeing no sign of Pike, he moved immediately to the wounded civilians, honing in on the woman as the most seriously hit.
“You’ll be okay. Help’s on the way,” he said, conscious of approaching sirens. He began initial first aid, checking her airway and putting direct pressure on her wounds as an ambulance screamed to a halt beside them. Paramedics leapt out to conduct triage.
Kurt told them what he knew, then walked away before he got tied up by the police. He pulled out his cell phone and called Pike’s number. At the sound of a woman’s voice, he was about to disconnect, thinking he had a wrong number. Then he remembered.
“Jennifer?”
“Yes. Who’s this? Where’s Pike?”
“This is Kurt. I don’t know where Pike’s at. Where are you? You’re not with him?”
Jennifer voice grew alarmed. “No, I’m at the Embassy Suites. Pike left to meet you alone over forty-five minutes ago. What did you do to him?”
“Me?” He was shocked by the question. “For Christ’s sake, why would I do anything to him? Jennifer, listen to me. Get out of the hotel now. Don’t even bother packing. Get out — go somewhere safe. Do it now. Write this number down”—he read out his cell number—“call me when you’re safe. Let me know where you are.”
It took several more attempts before she took him seriously, testing his patience. “Get out, Jennifer,” he repeated, “every second is dangerous.”
“But Pike—”
“Leave him a note that only you and he would understand. But get out.
Jennifer’s voice grew cold. “I hear you. I’m leaving. I’ll do as you say, but if you’ve done anything to Pike… if he’s hurt… I’m going to fucking
Lucas had regained control of his team, reconsolidating in an empty parking lot eight miles away from the failed hit. He was running his options through his mind when his phone rang.
“Yeah, what do you have?”
Jerry was breathless. “They’re staying at the Embassy Suites in Old Town Alexandria. The girl’s there now but was just told to leave. Pike doesn’t have his cell phone. The girl has it. He doesn’t know she’s been told to leave. I’m sure he’s headed back there, but he only has the Metro. If you hurry, you can get both of them. Worst case, you’ll only get him.”
Lucas grinned, immediately barking out commands. “They’re at the Embassy Suites in Old Town. Mounted team go there immediately. Stake out the lobby and try to find the girl. She’s probably already gone, but it’s worth a shot. You other four head to the King Street Metro station. Pike’s headed back. Pick him up when he gets off the Metro. Once you have him in sight, call the Embassy Suites team. He’ll be headed that way. Close on him and finish the job. We can find the girl later, if necessary.”
Riding back on the Metro, my mind was running nonstop, trying to figure out what had just happened. I could come up with only one answer: Dr. Evil did exist and his name was Kurt Hale.
Earlier I had decided that didn’t make sense, because Kurt wouldn’t kill Ethan. I then realized that I didn’t even know if Ethan was dead. All I knew was that Kurt had said so. Now it looked like he had said it to keep my mind occupied on Ethan’s death instead of looking for threats. Every other fact pointed to Kurt.
Only one person knew where I was going, and that was Kurt. In fact, it was Kurt who had set the meeting up. Kurt had said he needed to straighten out some things because of Ethan’s death, but if Kurt really had set this up, then Ethan was alive, and Kurt had used that time to set up his trap instead.
The thought sickened me to my core. The Taskforce was an anchor I had placed my entire trust within. If Kurt could do this, then there was no such thing as good. The world was just a mess of gray. I knew that Kurt wasn’t inherently evil, but nothing else explained what had occurred. It wasn’t a bunch of amateurs who had attacked me, but guys who knew what they were doing. I had to have been under surveillance to trigger the drive- by, surveillance that I had failed to notice because I was conveniently thinking about Ethan’s death and the meeting with Kurt. The shooter in the alley was the final touch. It was clear that the drive-by shooter was simply the
