Black sighed. “I’m just afraid it’s going to be too late by that point. They’re sliding pieces around like this is a game of chess, and we don’t even know how to move or who we’re playing.”
“Look, I know you just wanna shoot somebody. It’d probably make you feel better for a few minutes, too. But this isn’t like our typical assignments. Obsidian feels like this virus that’s spreading its tentacles everywhere so it can squeeze at the right time, choking out its hosts and assuming total control. And as long as Obsidian thinks it’s in control of everything, it won’t see the need to squeeze just yet. We just need enough time to find the person calling the shots.”
“Like I said, that’s what I’m afraid of. We’re going to run out of time.”
“Chin up,” Hawk said. “We haven’t done that yet. Obsidian thinks we’re playing Whack-a-Mole as we try to catch some of the lower-level operatives. But I have a hunch we’re close to a big break.”
Black chuckled. “Your hunches have gotten us into trouble plenty of times lately.”
“But we’re still fighting, aren’t we?”
Black turned the radio on as he continued to drive toward the area Hawk identified. A news anchor delivered details of the White House bombing in a somber voice, introducing a report from a woman claiming to be on the scene. She described the destruction and speculated on what happened and who may have been behind it.
“She thinks some extremist terrorist group is behind this?” Black asked, shaking his head.
“Must be her first assignment,” Hawk said. “Any veteran reporter would know that this is either an accident or an inside job. No terrorist would be able to get close enough to the White House to attack the president’s personal living quarters.”
Hawk and Black continued to dismantle the proffered theories but were interrupted when Alex called.
“Are you there yet?” she asked.
“Almost,” Hawk said. “We’re about a block away.”
“Good. I found something for you.”
Hawk shifted in his seat and put the call on speaker. “Black can hear you now too. What did you find?”
“Almost all of the warehouses in that area have been rented for a long time or are vacant . . . except for one.”
“What’s the address?”
Alex gave him directions to the warehouse before launching into an explanation of what she found. “This particular facility had been unoccupied for several years, and then six months ago it was leased by someone you might remember: Milton Reese.”
“He had to be higher up in Obsidian than we realized,” Black said.
“Or they were just using him as their patsy,” Hawk said. “Whoever’s behind all this is setting up layers of people to insulate them from the real action.”
“It’s smart,” Alex said. “I feel like we’re a one-legged duck swimming in a circle on this one so far.”
“You’re starting to sound like Blunt,” Hawk said as he winked at Alex. “But don’t worry because that’s all about to change.”
Their car came to a stop along the street just outside the warehouse. According to Alex, the previous owner used it as a direct mail sorting facility. But there wasn’t anything she could find online or filed with the city about what Reese intended to do with the building.
Black killed the lights and the engine before both men slipped outside.
“We’re here,” Hawk said. “I’ll call you when we know something.”
“Just be careful, Hawk,” she said before hanging up.
Hawk and Black stayed together, scaling a chain link fence to get inside the property. In the center was a large cinderblock building with an aluminum roof. It was as simple of a structure as anyone would find in this part of the city, which was heavily commercial peppered with a few mixed zones of residential and retail.
As they neared the building, Hawk noted a pair of security cameras positioned on the corner but no motion sensor flood lights. A pale streetlamp humming just outside the gate provided all the light in the area.
“You got your silencer on you?” Hawk asked
Black nodded. “I’ll take out that light.”
A few seconds later, the perimeter fell dark with only ambient city lights enabling them to see.
“Good work,” Hawk said as Black returned.
“How do you want to do this?” Black asked. “Guns blazing? Or come at them from two different directions?”
“I think we need to stick together on this one,” Hawk said. “We don’t need to get isolated and pinned down.”
“Agreed,” Black said.
A row of small windows lined the exterior, set about three-fourths of the way above the ground at about fifteen feet. Hawk shimmied up a drainage pipe so he could peer inside. Most of the building was dark, but there was what appeared to be a small set of enclosed offices in the far back corner. A faint beam of light streamed from beneath one of the doors. He looked near the rollup door and saw an ambulance.
“They’re here,” Hawk said. “Come on.”
He wedged his knife between a rubber sealant strip and the window to open it. Wriggling his way through the small opening, he eased down until his feet touched on a support beam running along the outer wall. He waited for Black and whispered instructions so they could get to the floor as stealthily as possible.
Once the reached the ground, Hawk took the lead as they approached the office. When they were about five yards away, the light turned off.
Hawk turned to Black. “They know we’re here.”
“Look for some cover,” Black said.
Hawk looked over his shoulder toward the area that served as the staging for the direct mailers. He darted toward a slew of tables scattered haphazardly in one corner of the room, and Black followed. Before they reached safety, a shot echoed off the building walls. They scrambled behind the tables before gunfire erupted.
The shooting lasted for less than a minute before the two combatants were hit and crumpled to
