From there, he would be able to figure out a way to get past the agents he was sure were stationed outside the house.
He watched feet slowly appear onto the top rung of the pull-down ladder.
It was Agent O’Reilly who first appeared, then Henderson after him.
Agent Henderson was a big man, so he was hoping he wouldn’t be the one heading his way. It’d take some doing to overpower him.
The flashlight beam swept across the room, and he ducked deeper into the shadows.
Aidan looked around the room to see only a cellar full of old furniture. There was a large stained tarp in the middle of the floor. A tire iron rested against one of the dressers, which also held a container of duct tape and fishing wires.
Aidan glanced at Shaun, who motioned with his eyes that he was going to look near the antique chifferobe.
Aidan tilted his head in the opposite direction, and they separated.
Henderson headed his way.
The Carnations Killer gripped the taser in his hand.
Aidan crept near the other side of the cellar, keeping an eye out for a light switch. He saw nothing except a fuse box and more fishing wires, as well as a box of tasers and smoke bombs. They continued to move slowly in order to hear better, but Aidan only heard the blood pulsating in his ears.
Henderson stopped at the chifferobe and glanced behind it. The agent’s eyes grew wide when he saw him. By instinct, Henderson raised his weapon.
“Over—”
He expertly knocked the hand gripping the gun and swept his foot against Henderson’s. He swung a left hook to the agent’s side, resulting in a soft grunt.
Working quickly, he jammed the taser against the agent’s upper arm, so he’d earn the momentum to get away. Henderson shouted with surprise as his body convulsed and he dropped both his weapon and the flashlight. The beam from the light sent rays across the cellar floor before it blinked out after banging against the wall.
He grabbed the weapon.
Agent O’Reilly had spun around but didn’t shoot—he guessed it was in case his friend was in the line of fire.
He fired a shot at O’Reilly, who ducked behind a large desk to keep from being hit.
Agents began to descend the stairs, so he fired a few more rounds to buy himself time. The results were what he’d hoped. The agents took cover, providing him enough of a chance to make his way toward the fuse box.
A second later, he flicked off the lights in the house.
Someone grabbed his neck from behind.
He swung his chin toward the ceiling so his head would knock against the agent’s, then spun to connect his fist to O’Reilly’s temple.
He sent a forceful low kick to the agent’s leg, and O’Reilly cried out as his knees buckled underneath him. He pulled off the helmet and wrapped his arms around his neck. O’Reilly tried grabbing some part of him to loosen the hold, only managing to knock off the cap. Soon, the agent went limp in his arms.
“Not today, Agent O’Reilly,” he whispered, lowering him to the floor. He dragged the unconscious agent behind the dresser and quickly removed the FBI vest. He slipped it on, tucking his hat inside. He fitted O’Reilly’s cap and pulled in a heavy breath, pushing it out.
Agents had begun to descend the stairs again, their strides slow and cautious, weapons and flashlights filling the room.
He held Henderson’s weapon in front of him and quickly, but quietly, slunk to the table with the smoke bombs. He grabbed two.
The flashlight beam began to mow in his direction, so he tossed the bomb on the ground.
Chaos erupted amongst the agents as they scurried to exit the cellar.
He used his shirt to protect his nose and mouth and made his way out, blending in as best as he could.
With the aid of O’Reilly’s cap, he kept his head lowered and exited the hatch. He tossed his second smoke bomb at the agents standing guard nearby.
They began coughing, shouting for each other to get out. One agent decided to tough it out. He squinted his eyes, tears filling the corners. The agent held his gun at the ready.
“FBI, freeze!” His voice was muffled behind his shirt.
Without a second thought, he held the gun to the agent's head. For half a second, he saw the fear in the agent's eyes.
But he didn't shoot. Instead, he knocked the agent hard on the side of his head and hurried out the back door to safety.
41
“Aidan.” SHAUN's voice was calling to his friend, but Aidan couldn’t open his eyes. The pain still exploded in his head and his knees throbbed, making it difficult to focus. He also felt his eyes burning.
“O’Reilly?”
Now it was Douglas’ voice.
Everything sounded garbled and far away. Aidan tried to bring himself to the present, but it wasn’t easy.
The buzzing in his ears was loud.
Aidan slowly forced his eyes to open. The light was blinding, but after a few blinks, he made out Shaun’s concerned expression, then Douglas, despite the burning sensation.
“What happened?” Aidan muttered.
Looking around the room he was in, he began to remember.
They were in the cellar at Thomas Blake’s house. One of the team found a trap door and Shaun and Aidan went inside. Then everything that followed happened fast.
He remembered hearing Shaun cry out.
As Aidan turned, he had seen Shaun falling hard to the ground.
Through his foggy mind, he remembered the offender rushing for the fuse box. Aidan had grabbed him from behind. The offender banged the back of his head against Aidan's before flipping the switches.
That was the last
