[Quinn 04] - The Silenced

“Armed?”

“Hasn’t pulled anything yet, but I’m guessing he is.”

Quinn continued to blink. “And they’re just standing there?”

“Yeah,” Nate said. “Wait. The woman just took a step toward the door. Looks like she’s saying something.”

The voice of one of Donovan’s men came over the radio again. “They’ve made contact.”

“Continue holding,” Donovan said. “He may turn them away.”

Quinn blinked again, then shut his eyes and concentrated on the split second he saw the woman’s profile before the flash.

The moment he reopened his eyes, he keyed his mic. “Donovan. They’re not friendlies. The woman showed up at the last assignment I had for Wills. They also appear to be armed. I repeat, they’re armed.”

FROM THE CORNER OF HER EYE, PETRA SAW MIKHAIL reach for his gun when the light came on.

“No,” she whispered, not moving her lips. “Not yet.”

Mikhail left his hand behind his back, empty, but ready to grab his weapon if needed.

“Motion sensor?” he asked.

Petra shook her head. If there was a sensor, the light would have come on as they walked up, not after they’d stopped. Someone inside had flipped a switch.

A muffled voice called out from behind the door. “Go away!”

Petra took a step forward. “Mr. Moody?”

“Go away! Leave me alone!”

She arched an eyebrow at Mikhail. Not a denial.

“Mr. Moody, we just want to talk to you.”

“Get the hell out of here or I’m calling the police.”

His accent was not strong, no doubt tempered by years in the States, but there was still a trace of British roots. Just like Moody would have. It had to be him. Moody was alive. For the first time, she could sense a glimmer of hope. They had gotten to him first. Finally, someone would be able to point them to the Ghost.

“We’re here to help you, not hurt you. We just want to talk. Can we come in, please?”

“No.”

“Mr. Moody. Did you know a man named Ryan Winters?”

A slight hesitation. “I don’t know anyone by that name. Now leave.”

“How about Stacy McKitrick? Or David Thomas?”

Nothing for a second, then the latch clicked and the door opened an inch. It was dark inside, but the light from the porch was enough to see the shadowy form of someone standing a few feet back from the gap.

“What do you want?”

Petra focused on where she thought Moody’s eyes were. “They’re dead, Mr. Moody.”

It was as if all the wind had been knocked out of him. “Dead? All of them?”

“Yes. And if you don’t let us help you, you’ll be dead, too.”

“Positions?” Donovan asked over the walkie-talkie.

One by one, each of his men replied “Set” in the same order they had answered earlier. And again, Quinn and Nate remained silent.

“Close in.”

“Leave me alone,” Moody said. “I don’t need your help.” He paused. “Maybe you’re the ones who killed them, and you’ve come to kill me, too!”

“We’re not here to hurt you.” Petra put her hand on the door. “We’re here to help.”

“You’re lying. Get the hell off—”

There was a faint thup followed by the crunch of glass. Mikhail spun back toward the car, but Petra grabbed his arm and pulled him forward just as something whizzed through the air and smashed into the side of the house.

“Inside! Inside!” she said.

Moody tried to shut them out, but Petra jammed her foot into the opening before he could. Half a second later Mikhail drove his shoulder into the door, sending Moody flying back into the house.

They raced inside. Moody was sprawled on the floor, a look of bewilderment on his face.

“Gunshots,” Mikhail said.

Petra kicked the door closed. “I think the first hit the car.”