“Clear.”
She heard sirens approaching and figured they had less than two minutes before the scene swarmed with SDPD.
“My clothes are in the hall closet.”
“No problem. I’ll be right back. Your defensive area is the front of the house. I’ve got everything else.”
“Understood.”
Thirty seconds later Harvey returned, carrying three MP5 assault pistols, her spare magazines, clip holster, and thankfully, her clothes and shoes. He set the weapons down. “I’ll cover us while you get dressed.”
She wasted no time. Next, she clipped her service weapon holster to her belt and changed magazines in the gun. “Good to go,” she said.
“I’m going to stash these guns in my trunk. I’ll give you a warbling whistle just before I reappear. Give me about thirty seconds.”
She watched Harvey disappear down the sidewalk. Alone now, with Nathan at her feet, she reflected on what just happened. It seemed surreal, like a Dali painting. She had a difficult time believing it had actually happened. Sure, she was an FBI agent, but she wasn’t SWAT trained, and she’d never fired her weapon in anger, let alone killed anyone. Had she really just fought a vicious firefight against four mercenaries armed with submachine guns? She wanted to pinch herself. It seemed crazy. Everything happened so fast. Given the circumstances, she thought she did pretty well. It seemed little consolation. Nathan was lying on the concrete, bleeding from a head wound.
Keeping her mind focused, she kept scanning Nathan’s front yard and the surrounding neighborhood for threats. A few people had turned on porch lights. The wail of approaching sirens was much closer. She heard Harvey’s whistle and called out, “Clear.”
Harvey appeared from behind a hedge separating Nathan’s property with its neighbor to the east. He hustled up to her position. “I think you should have your FBI badge out when the cavalry gets here. We’ve got less than thirty seconds. No sudden movements. We’ll let the first officer on scene take control. Let’s put our weapons on the deck and step back from them.”
The police cruiser arrived in a big hurry with its siren howling and light bar flashing. The officer killed the siren, parked in the middle of the street and climbed out, his weapon already drawn.
“You’re on,” Harvey whispered.
Holding her badge at arm’s length, she spoke loudly and forcefully. “FBI. Special Agent in Charge, Holly Simpson, Sacramento field office.”
The officer’s response was predictable. He trained his service piece on them and closed to within twenty feet. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”
She and Harvey complied.
“We need a bus,” she added. “Blunt force head trauma. Semiconscious. Possibly a glancing bullet wound.”
“Copy that,” the officer replied, “medical is already on the way.” He spoke into his lapel mike. A second cruiser arrived from the opposite direction. Two more sirens closed in.
Holly pointed toward the house. “We’ve got three dead inside, a fourth escaped on foot. He’s armed with an assault pistol and dressed in tactical SWAT gear with a gunshot wound to his hand.”
Keeping his weapon aimed at them, he again said, “Copy,” and relayed the info.
Holly heard a second officer move in behind her.
“I’d like to search you for weapons and verify your identity.”
“No problem, Officer. My service piece is on the ground in front of me.”
He looked at Harvey, then back to her. “He with you?”
“Yes.”
The cop addressed Harvey. “Your identity, please?”
“Harvey Fontana. I own First Security, Incorporated.”
“The company with the radio ads?”
Harv nodded toward Nathan. “My business partner, Nathan McBride. The break-in set off an alarm that relayed to my cell phone. I wasn’t far away. That’s why I’m here. We’ve got a sensitive crime scene in there. This is an FBI-involved shooting. ”
“Understood. First things first. Let’s get your identities verified. Then we’ll secure and protect the crime scene. I want both of you to lay facedown on the ground with your arms out to your sides. We’ll clear this up quickly.”
She saw the officer focus on the bloody washcloth tied to her arm.
“We’ll get you medical treatment and contact your San Diego field office and let them know what happened. Just let me confirm your identities and we’ll get this straightened out double quick.”
“Thank you, Officer.”
Twenty minutes later, the paramedics were sliding Nathan’s gurney into the back of the ambulance and closing the double doors. By the time they left in Harvey’s Mercedes, at least twelve SDPD cruisers had arrived on scene, interspersed with five San Diego Fire Department engines and patrol units. Three additional ambulances had also arrived. Every house within one hundred yards of ground zero was being barraged with red-and-blue stroboscopic flashes. Two news helicopters were orbiting at a safe distance while a police helicopter used its blinding spot to search the neighborhood for the missing merc. Holly was impressed by the efficiency and professionalism of the SDPD.
She felt certain she’d hear from San Diego’s SAC tonight, probably within the hour. What a paperwork nightmare. At least Nathan seemed stable and didn’t appear to have too serious a head injury. He’d have to undergo all kinds of tests to make sure, but she wasn’t too worried. Her throbbing arm reminded her she needed some medical attention herself. Nothing some stitches and antibiotics couldn’t handle.
The ambulance pulled up to the emergency room’s entrance. Harvey killed the headlights and parked behind it. Nathan waved as the paramedics pulled his gurney out. She felt her chest tighten. Even strapped to a gurney with a blood-soaked bandage around his head, Nathan had a commanding presence.
If there had been any doubt before, it was now dispelled. She loved him. How had this happened? So this was the result of letting your guard down? Now what? Should she tell him? What then? She was being too analytical and needed to trust her own words.
“Holly, you still with me?”
“It’s just… I’ve never been in a gunfight before.”
“Sucks, doesn’t it.” It wasn’t a question.
“It’s not like the training.”
“Let’s get that arm stitched up. We can reflect on tonight’s events later.”
“How do you do it?”
“What?”
“Keep your cool. How do you do it? I’m shaking like a leaf right now.”
“Your adrenaline rush is wearing off. It’ll pass.” Harvey took a deep breath and sighed. “To answer your question, I’m used to it. I’ve seen my share of violence and death.”
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you that.”
“I’ve come to terms with my past. So has Nathan. We neither dwell on it nor sweep it under the rug. You’ll get over the way you’re feeling. It’ll just take some time.”
“I guess I’ve always known this day might come, but this isn’t how I imagined I’d feel.”
“Holly, those men broke into Nathan’s home in the middle of the night with the intent to kill or capture both of you. It was them or you. What you’re feeling? It’s normal. It’s gonna take some time, but you’ll get through this. We’ll talk about it later. Let’s take care of that arm. I’ll bet it hurts.”
She looked for Nathan, but he’d already been wheeled inside.
“He’ll be okay.”
“The gunfight,” she said slowly.
“What about it?”
