His sister said, “Eddie! No!”
“Enough people have died because of me, Kel. No more. Nobody else. Especially not a little boy.”
“They told me you had a big brain, Roy,” said Harkes. “Just right over here, please. Bunting, you too.”
They watched as Bunting and Roy stepped forward. On a nod from Harkes the men released Megan, who stumbled toward Sean and Michelle.
Sean’s gaze had not stopped moving. He had gone grid by grid, reaching far away with his gaze and then pulling it back in, step-by-step, like casting a fishing line and slowly reeling it in, looking for threats. It was like he had never been away from the Secret Service. He had pulled post on the Mall many times while with the Service. What to look for and how had been drilled into his mind until there was no difference between conscious thought and instinct.
As soon as Megan joined them Sean saw it. A man who was paying them a little too much attention while trying very hard not to seem to be. His hand went to his pocket. An optics flare followed as he took aim.
Sean leaped, his body parallel to the ground.
The shot was fired.
The round hit Sean squarely in the chest. He grunted once, hit the grass hard, and slid.
“Sean!” screamed Michelle.
The men who had been on either side of Riley suddenly went down fast, before they could pull their guns, their bodies writhing in pain. Men swarmed them, held them down, the glint of gunmetal flashed in the sunlight.
“Where’s the shooter?” one of them screamed.
In the face of the shot, the crowds on the Mall acted like a wave gathering strength. This stampede built speed and mass, and soon the wave was beyond control.
James Harkes was on the move. He dropped two men with his weapon. They fell to the grass out of the fight. Harkes kept going, his gaze darting in all directions. He didn’t know who had fired the shot, but it had severely messed up his plans. His carefully arranged tactical positions were now being swept away.
But all he could do was keep going, keep striking.
Michelle knelt next to Sean.
“Sean!”
He struggled to his knees. “Go. Go. Finish the plan. I’m okay.”
She looked at the rip in his body armor where the slug had hit.
“Are you sure?”
He grimaced, one hand pressed against his chest. “Michelle, just get them out of here! Now!”
She squeezed his arm, leaped up, grabbed Megan and Roy by the wrist, and shouted, “With me, now.”
They raced off across the Mall, fighting their way through the screaming crowd that was now running flat-out in all directions.
Harkes finally spotted her and tenaciously fought through the crowd to get to the woman.
Kelly Paul’s broad back was to him. He was inches away.
“Paul!”
She turned, saw him, raised her gun, and fired.
The man behind Harkes grunted once as the rubber bullet hit him smack in the chest. He fell forward, and the gun he was about to fire at Harkes slipped from his hand.
Paul joined Harkes. He looked down at the fallen man as FBI agents ran up and cuffed the injured fellow.
“Thanks,” Harkes said.
“I think he spotted you taking out Quantrell’s boys and realized what you were really up to.”
She pointed to her left. “I got two more of them. The FBI has them as well.”
Harkes nodded and held up his Taser. “I got two. Plus the two with Riley. That’s five more to go, then,” he said. “We’ve got the Mall locked down. They can’t get away.”
“Where did that first shot come from?” she asked.
“No idea. But it didn’t help us a damn bit. Your brother? Riley?”
“On schedule. Where’s Bunting?”
He pointed across the street where two FBI agents had escorted the man to safety.
“Good job,” she said.
“Been after these folks a long time. Things could have blown up at any point along the way.”
“But they didn’t.”
“Good working with you again,” said Harkes.
“Couldn’t have managed it without you, Jim.”
Michelle, with Megan and Roy in tow, pushed and clawed her way through the panicked crowds. She finally saw a sliver of daylight and pulled them through it.
Roy shouted, “Look out!”
It was an unnecessary warning. Michelle had already seen it coming. She let go of his arm, twisted her body in the air, and laid the attacker out flat on his back with a thunderous kick, breaking his jaw.
“My God,” said Roy, staring down at the fallen man who weighed about two-fifty. “How did you do that?”
“I’ve got brains in my feet,” she barked. “Come on. Move, move!”
They sprinted across the Mall. A few seconds later, they reached the van. Michelle fired up the engine and slammed it into gear.
Edgar Roy looked back at the chaos on the Mall.
“Didn’t go exactly according to plan,” he said.
“Almost never does,” replied Michelle as the van sped off. “But we’re alive, that I’ll take.” She glanced in the rearview mirror. “Megan, are you okay?”
Megan sat up in the seat and pushed her ratty hair out of her eyes. “I am now. I didn’t think I was going to make it.” She rubbed at her swollen wrists. “They beat the crap out of me.”
“I know. We found your sweater with blood on it.”
Megan touched her shoulder. “Knife,” she said simply.
“But you’re okay?”
“They just needed some blood to leave behind to make sure you knew they were serious. And I got really toughened up over the last few days,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry about Officer Dobkin.” She drew a long breath. “It was pretty damn awful. They kicked in the door and just shot him. He never had a chance to pull his weapon.”
“I know. But at least you’re safe,” said Michelle.
Megan looked at Roy. “I’m glad they got you out.” She held out her hand. “Nice to finally meet you.”
Roy shook her hand and said shyly, “You too. Sorry about before. Not communicating with you and all.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Megan. “All I want right now is a hot shower and some clean clothes.”
“Got just the place and it’s close by,” said Michelle. “Be there in five minutes.”
Megan looked behind them and said in a panicked tone, “Michelle, I think there’s someone following us.”
“There is. FBI. They’ll provide perimeter security at the safe house. Later, when everything is over, we’ll go to WFO. They’ll need detailed statements from you, Megan.”
“More than happy to give them.” She smiled. “But can I have the shower first?”
“You got it.”
They drove on. The black SUV tailing them sped up and drew closer.
CHAPTER
85
QUANTRELL’S TWELVE MEN were all subdued, cuffed, and hauled away in FBI transport vans. The
