Event

his shoulders as if he were warming up for something.

Everett sized up the tall, unbearably thin man and decided he wasn't much of a threat.

'Looking for someone,' Collins said, leaning forward a little, noticing the slight bulge the man had under his own jacket. He was definitely armed.

'Have a name, cop?' the man asked, pegging them immediately as some sort of law enforcement.

Collins said nothing; he just looked at the club's proprietor. After a moment he produced a small wallet-sized photo that Mendenhall had given him earlier in the car. It was Reese, the picture having been taken last year for his Event Group ID.

'His name is Reese, he may have been here last night or earlier this morning,' Collins stated.

Elvis hunched his shoulders, then popped a toothpick into his sneering mouth.

'Man, you know how many people come in here a day?' he asked, eyeing the other three men on either side of Collins.

The major looked around the empty club and smiled as the Moody Blues' haunting melody was still playing to an empty house. 'It must be a bitch with all these people here to notice one man.'

The Elvis wannabe just smiled and looked at the floor, not saying anything.

'You mind if we have a look around?' Everett asked.

'Not without a warrant, my friend,' Elvis said, looking up, the smile now gone.

'Ah, we paid the cover,' Everett said, smiling, 'can't we take an itsy-bitsy look around, pretty please?' He held his right index finger and thumb about an inch apart.

'Fuck off, cop.'

The four soldiers exchanged amused looks. The man saw this and became a little unsettled. Collins brushed by him before Elvis knew what was happening and walked farther into the club.

'Hey, fuckhead,' the man started to protest, then felt a hand slip quickly under his jacket and deftly remove the gun from the hidden holster. 'Hey! I have a permit for that!'

Everett effortlessly punched the release button and ejected the ammunition clip, then pulled the slide back and allowed the chambered round to fall to the floor.

'I'm sure you do, I just don't feel comfortable with Elvis and firearms, call it silly,' Carl said.

Collins was walking toward the stage, looking around at the cheap decor of the club. He fingered some dust off the platform of the stage, then suddenly the darkened room filled with the bright flashes and sharp reports of gunfire. Collins threw himself to the floor, crawling around the base of the stage. He pulled his sidearm and was pointing it to where he thought the shots had come from. The noise was deafening in the empty lounge. Two more loud explosions rang out, and this time he saw the muzzle flash. It came from the same curtain the woman had disappeared into earlier. Collins rolled but knew the shots hadn't been aimed at him.

'Anyone hit?' he shouted to his men, with his gun pointed and his eyes still on the curtain.

'We're alright, but Elvis took one in the head,' Everett called out.

'Shit! The curtain, there's gotta be a door. That's where the shots came from.'

'You lead, we'll cover,' Everett shouted, coming to a knee with his own weapon already drawn and aimed at the shoddy curtain.

Mendenhall was already duckwalking toward the major, using the booths for cover. Everett and O'Connell stood as one and ran toward the side of the curtain with guns held up in the air. Everett nodded and Collins ran for the curtain, coming to his knees. At that moment three quick shots rang out and echoed from what seemed like considerable distance. The two men looked at each other and Collins pointed his finger at the door, then pointed down.

Everett mouthed the word basement to O'Connell.

The music on the jukebox went suddenly silent. They looked over at the black army sergeant; he was just dropping the cord he had yanked from the wall. He stood there with his gun pointed toward the curtain in an area in the center between the two officers.

Other distant shots sounded, echoing until they faded away, erupted again and then stopped.

Farbeaux was furious. The fool he had sent up the stairs from the basement to check on their visitors had obviously panicked and opened fire. He didn't like admitting it, but he had become used to the professional way the company's Black Teams operated, not like these goons the club had on staff. Now he calmly waited for the man to reappear so he could shoot the incompetent fool. He quickly turned to the other two who were standing by the card table and put two rounds into them, just as the closest one turned and fired. The round missed the Frenchman by two feet, but caught the unfortunate Reese in the head.

'My apologies, Mr. Reese, I'm afraid circumstances have prevented me from keeping my promise,' he said as he quickly turned for the door that led to the alley behind the club.

As the door opened, he saw several things at once. First was an older man who was coming toward him while reaching for something behind him, probably a weapon. The second was, Farbeaux assumed, the old man's younger companion, who was turned and looking at three men in black who were approaching from the lot. They had already drawn their weapons and opened up, making the younger man hit the asphalt and roll under a car. Then they turned their weapons toward the old man himself. That man had turned at the sound of gunfire behind him, then suddenly flailed his arms and fell as Farbeaux opened fire with his silenced weapon, making the old man's assailants all dive for cover. Farbeaux made his way for the fallen man and saw he had been hit in the upper chest. He grimaced and fired twice more toward the three men in black as he used his own cover fire to sprint from the rear lot.

Gianelli had regained his composure and started firing toward the men who had taken cover behind the parked cars. They returned fire and broke for the alley toward the running man Gianelli had seen exit the club, then the marine noticed that Gunny was down.

Let's go,' Collins said.

He burst through the curtain first, followed by the taller Everett. They were at the top of a stairwell that descended into what had to be a basement. The paint on the walls was peeling and the stairwell looked as if it was seldom used. Collins, Everett, and O'Connell started down. Mendenhall placed himself at the top of the stairs with his nine-millimeter pointed outward into the club.

One minute later, a very long one minute of creaking wooden stairs, Collins stepped onto a concrete floor. The only door was five feet in front of him. He knew he was a sitting duck to anyone who wanted to plug a couple of rounds into the door from the other side, but he felt the urgency of what was happening. He glanced back at Everett. They both started forward and placed themselves on either side of the door. The major motioned with his finger, pointing upward for Everett to go high, then used the same finger pointing down, indicating he would go low. It was a classic police maneuver he had learned in terrorist training at Fort Bragg. The lieutenant would kick the door in, then Collins would dive and quickly roll, bringing his gun to bear on anything in front of him. Then Everett would come in high, and in theory the odds of both of them getting hit were low, and that was why policemen and military people used it all over the world.

What Collins saw after finishing his roll was bizarre to say the least. The topless girl from upstairs was now dead. She was propped up against a man that lay against a far wall with a perfect round hole between her eyes. As she had tried to follow Farbeaux outside, a stray round had ended her flight. A small trickle of blood had run down between her sagging breasts.

'Jesus, Major, what the fuck happened here?' Everett whispered.

Collins said nothing; he just looked at the body of Robert Reese, still seated in the swivel chair in which he had died. One of his white shirtsleeves was rolled up, indicating he had probably been drugged.

'Jesus,' said Mendenhall as he stepped around Everett and into the room.

Collins made a shushing gesture with his finger to his lips and looked around at the two men lying by the card table. He could see they had been dispatched at close range. Then Jack saw the notebook lying on the blood- covered floor and quickly realized that it was filled with notes about the Event yesterday, penned in a neat hand that hadn't been hurried to say the least. Jack frowned when he saw notations on Operation Purple Sage. Then question marks after it.

Suddenly, the doorway was filled with a form and Jack raised his pistol.

'Major!' a familiar voice called out, hollowly echoing off the basement walls.

'O'Connell?' Everett called, the handgun now pointing toward the doorway.

'Yes, sir,' the marine answered. The others watched as O'Connell, holding up a severely wounded Gianelli,