“Why don’t you come with me, Brian?”
Bridger fell into step with the man, the second man following them down the stairs. “I’m sorry to interrupt you fellas so early in the morning.” Bridger clomped down the stairs. “I know you guys must have a ton of real work you need to be doing.”
“No problem, Brian.” The first man led him back to the third floor and into an office. He picked up the phone and dialed the main security office. “Yes, this is Bowman on three. Do we have contractors on sight working on the security systems?”
Bridger prayed that Agent Bowman didn’t dig too deep or he was going to make a really ugly splat when he rode him out of the third floor window.
He watched as Bowman nodded then hung up the phone. “You’re supposed to have somebody from security escort you in the building.” He leaned back and crossed his arms, his brow hiked.
Bridger nodded. “I know, but they’re in the middle of shift change.” He shrugged. “We only have a few more sensors to go and me and my team have been here all night.” He sighed dramatically and slumped his broad shoulders. “I was really hoping to just wrap this work order up and get a couple hours sleep before…” He trailed off, shaking his head.
He heard the steel security door slam open and a Cerberus guard marched through the third floor. “Where is he?”
Bowman waved his hand out of his office and Bridger gave his best defeated look when the guard stepped into view. “Sorry. I was just trying to wrap this up…”
“You know better than this. You have to have an escort every step of the way.” The man glared at him then nodded to Bowman. “Thank you, sir. I’ll take it from here.”
He tugged at Bridger’s sleeve and led him to the third floor fire door.
Bobby stepped into the stairwell and suddenly squared his shoulders and stood up straight. “How the hell?”
Steve Gibbons shot him an award winning smile. “Ryan’s waiting on the road.”
“How did you get here? In that get-up?”
Steve shrugged. “Let’s just say that one of the Cerberus guards will have a ton of ‘splaining to do once he wakes up.”
“You hijacked a security guard?” Bobby’s voice bounced as he followed Steve down the stairs. “Respect, man.”
Steve pulled open the steel door and pointed to the hallway. “Jim and Deric are in there.”
Deric spotted the pair then hefted the canvas tool bag, nodding to Jim. “We’re done, fellas. Thanks for the help.” The men turned from their security escorts and walked to the door. “Call us if you have any more problems.”
Gregg chimed in across their coms. “And my attacks are done. They should have clear sailing, unless you boys royally screwed their systems.”
Steve waved at the other two security officers. “I’ll escort them to the truck.”
The two guards nodded and the four prayed that they didn’t compare notes on the “new guy.” Steve practically trotted to the loading bay doors and pushed them open. “Hustle up guys. I gotta get clear before they catch on.” The three men rushed out to the van, Steve on their tail. He patted the side of the van as he ran out to the parking lot and to the missing security guard’s car.
Steve started the car and pointed it out of the parking lot. Just as he cleared the guard shack, he slowed the car and held the portable radio closer to his ear. “Fuck…” He keyed his coms. “They know! Bug out!”
Steve twisted in his seat and stared across the growing expanse as security personnel swarmed out of the building. “Move it!”
En Route to Multan, Pakistan
MAMOON SAT QUIETLY in the passenger seat as Balil drove the stolen Toyota. More than once he had threatened him if he didn’t stop his sobbing. “Sameer is gone. That was his decision. You had nothing to do with it.”
“He was your friend, Balil. So was Tariq. How can you be so unfeeling?”
“I will feel later when we are safe.” Balil continued to stare in the mirrors, praying that they could achieve their journey without being caught.
Mamoon sighed and squirmed closer to the door. “They blame us, Balil.”
“No, they blame Muhammed. It was he who ordered the flags. It was he who didn’t show up to his own gathering. He is to blame, not us!”
Mamoon groaned. “Yet, still they blame us.”
Balil slammed on the brakes and turned to stare at his former boss. “They will NOT blame us once we get someplace safe and tell them that we had nothing to do with the deaths.”
“But I blame us. The flags came from our own hands.”
Balil reached across the seats and grabbed a handful of Mamoon’s shirt. “You cannot afford to wallow in your own self-pity! Do you hear? If you convince yourself that we are responsible, then nobody will believe us.” He pushed at Mamoon, setting him against the door. “I will not be persecuted by an ignorant mass for something I did not do.”
Mamoon turned sad eyes to him and shook his head. “We killed them, Balil. Do you not see?”
Balil blew his breath out hard and put the stolen car into gear again. “I do NOT see.” He turned his eyes to the road but his mind was already racing. He would not allow a murderous mob to take his life for something he did not do, no matter how badly Mamoon wanted to be blamed.
He set his jaw, his mind racing. Yes, he had cared for Tariq. And he could tolerate Sameer, even though he was a fat, chain-smoking slob. He used to respect Mamoon, but the man had lost his intestinal fortitude. He had been castrated; now he was willing to roll over like a dog that had been beaten too many times. He glanced at his former boss once more and knew, if he didn’t snap
