The radio crackled and hissed, then Constance’s voice issued from the speaker once again. “I’m in and I see Washburn. Heading for the carousel now.”
A new voice followed. “I’ve got Mandalay. Everything’s clear.”
My head was starting to throb with a fresh round of stabs in the back of my skull. While, as usual, the chronic ache had never fully subsided, it had at least faded into the background for the most part once Felicity was back on an even keel. Now, it was returning with a vengeance.
“She’s here,” I said.
“Where?” Ben asked, scanning the distant crowd of people who were still waiting to enter through the gates. “Do ya’ see ‘er?”
“No,” I replied. “But, I feel her.”
“Fuckin’ wonderful,” he replied. “Well, at least we know she wasn’t blowin’ smoke about showin’ up.”
A handful of minutes oozed by, and the radio crackled again.
“Frye, you should be able to see Mandalay in about ten seconds.”
A female voice answered a moment later. “I’ve got her. Clear so far.”
“Who’s covering the carousel?” Constance’s voice blipped in.
“Book is on the left at the concession stand,” the earlier voice replied. “Tamm is in the seating area making like a mommy.”
“I don’t like it,” Constance replied. “Too many civilians. Especially children. Where’s our takedown point?”
“When approached, try to lead her back the way you’re coming in. We’ll move when there’s an opportunity.”
“And, if she doesn’t follow?”
A long span of silence filled in behind her question. Finally, the radio crackled again and the man replied, “We follow her.”
“Acknowledged.”
The radio hissed then fell quiet. We simply waited since there was nothing else we could do.
After a couple of minutes, Ben asked, “You still feelin’ ‘er?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “Like a hammer to the back of the head.”
“What about you, Firehair?” he queried.
“Mmhmm,” she hummed.
I turned and gave her a curious glance. She had been especially quiet for the past few minutes, and a wordless response wasn’t like her at all. She caught my gaze and simply raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Are you doing okay, honey?” I asked.
She nodded.
Before I could press her further, the radio crackled again.
“Book, you should be able to see Mandalay now,” Frye’s voice came over the air.
“Acknowledged. Okay, I see her,” a male voice replied. “Tamm?”
“Ten-four. I see her,” another woman said, her voice low against a backdrop of the calliope-like music from the carousel.
Fifteen or so seconds passed and the radio burped again.
“Heads up. We have a possible target approaching from the south,” came Frye’s voice. “Red hair… Black, full-length leather coat at my three o’clock.”
“Right on time,” Constance said, her voice also now underscored by the bright tune of the amusement ride.
“I see her,” Tamm acknowledged.
The announcement served to instantly ratchet up the level of tension in the van. Knowing how I was feeling at this moment, I didn’t even want to imagine what it was like for Constance and the rest of the agents.
“I’m on her,” Frye announced after a desperately long thirty seconds.
“Make sure you give her some room,” Book’s voice came across. “If it’s her, we don’t want her spooked.”
“Got it.”
Another half minute crept past at what seemed like greatly reduced speed. The hammering inside my skull was starting to make me feel nauseous, and I found myself wishing for an economy-sized bottle of aspirin. I waited, my ears straining to hear anything at all, as if some quiet transmission might escape my notice. I knew I was holding my breath, but I didn’t care.
“False alarm,” Constance’s voice suddenly blipped from the speaker. “Not her.”
“Dammit,” I muttered, as I allowed the oxygen-depleted air to sigh from my lungs.
I looked at my watch and saw that it was 8:04.
“The real adrenalin doesn’t kick in quite yet,” Ben offered. “Believe me.”
According to my watch, it was 8:15 before the radio crackled back to life.
“Male subject approaching Mandalay,” Frye announced. “Brown hair, blue over white jacket.”
“Acknowledged.”
“Probably some fuck gonna hit on ‘er,” Ben grumbled.
Three minutes later, the radio burped with Constance’s voice, “Subject handed me a note. He said a woman paid him fifty dollars to deliver it. He said she told him to look for someone who looked just like her waiting at the carousel at eight-fifteen and that her name would be Felicity. Sounds like our girl. I guess she wanted to size me up.”
“Did he give you a location for her?” a male voice asked over the air.
“He pointed toward the storyteller’s area back down the path, but he said that was about forty-five minutes ago. I’m looking but I can’t see her. Too many people. But, it’s a good bet she’s watching from somewhere nearby to make sure the note got delivered.”
“Frye?”
“Nothing. I’m moving that way now.”
“What does the note say?”
“It’s one of the map handouts,” she replied, her voice still muddied by the carousel music. “Display number eight has been circled.”
“Eight is the Glacier motion simulator. It’s closed for maintenance,” the male voice said.
“I guess she wants some privacy after all,” Constance replied.
“We’ll need time to move into position,” the voice came back.
“She’s sure to be watching,” Constance said. “I don’t want her to get cold feet, so I’m going to start that way now.”
The radio hissed for a moment, then the voice answered, “Don’t get in a hurry… We need to reposition. Book, you tail Mandalay.”
“Already moving,” he replied.
“Tamm, you fall in behind Book.”
“It’s not going to look right if we have too many people moving into a closed area,” Constance announced. “Keep some distance.”
“Acknowledged,” Tamm said. “Hanging back.”
A minute passed then Constance’s voice came across in a low tone, “There’s a huge crowd at the forest exhibit, and they’re blocking the path. It’s going to take me a minute to get through.”
Book’s voice burped in behind hers, but it was partially drowned out by the sound of the aforementioned crowd. All that really came through was, “Dam-t, -st Man-lay.”
“Say again?”
“The crowd,” he repeated, the transmission somewhat clearer. “I’ve lost Mandalay. She was…”
Before he finished the sentence, the muffled report of something that sounded far too much like gunshots popped loudly from the speaker followed immediately by panicked screaming.
“Shots fired!” his frantic voice fell in behind.
“Everybody move!” the other voice ordered. “Now!”
Seconds later Book’s voice was shouting across the radio again, devoid of all composure, “SHOTS FIRED!
