Chapter 56
"I've disabled the device,” Isabella said. “It's all clear.”
"Copy that," I said, breathing a little easier.
"I can't say that I'm a fan of this guy. He’s flip-flopped more times than I can count. But it looks like he's going to be around for another term.”
"Thank you. You're the best.”
"I know," she said in a cute voice.
I told the sheriff, and we hung back against the side wall and tried to enjoy the circus.
Catalina looked uneasy. She almost never looked uneasy. She sent a text on her phone, then waited, watching the senator.
He continued with his speech.
Nothing happened.
Catalina looked frustrated. She sent another text.
The senator kept blabbering.
Nothing happened.
Then the lights went out.
Gasps filled the room.
I pulled a high-powered tactical flashlight from my pocket and swept the narrow beam across the ballroom.
Phones came out of pockets and purses, and people clicked on flashlights.
"Everyone stay calm," the senator said. "I'm sure the power will be on in just a moment. It's only a glitch."
His private security staff drew close to the stage.
It dawned on me that the heist at the gala was just a trial run for this night. None of the security flaws had been addressed. I liked Carl, the head of hotel security, but he dropped the ball on this one.
My flashlight beam fell upon a waiter in a white jacket, carrying a tray with an entrée and a silver lid.
A surgical mask obscured his face. He walked in between the tables and the podium, making a beeline for the south wall.
He lifted the lid, tossed it aside, and pulled a subcompact pistol from the plate.
A suppressor was threaded to the end of the barrel.
This was Plan B.
I drew my pistol and took aim as the assailant lined up the senator in his sights.
I had a clean shot.
The shooter’s finger gripped tightly around the trigger.
So did mine.
The pistol hammered my palm, and muzzle flash lit up the darkness. That zesty scent of gunpowder wafted.
The wet thump of my bullets hitting the shooter's chest filled the ballroom.
Shrieks of horror filled the air.
By that time, Senator Bergen’s security staff had taken the politician to the ground and hovered on top of him.
"Coconut County!" I shouted, advancing to the perp with my flashlight beam spotlighting his bloody jacket. He writhed and moaned on the ground, chest heaving for breath.
Sheriff Daniels called dispatch for backup and EMTs.
As I reached the perp, I kicked the pistol away, holstered mine, then knelt down and put pressure on the wounds. His warm blood soaked through my fingers.
I didn't want this guy to die.
I wanted to find out who hired him. I shot him in the upper right quadrant. The bullets had drilled through the brachial plexus. If he kept the arm, he’d never use it again.
“Who do you work for?”
His panicked eyes darted about, his skin slick with sweat.
I asked him again, but he said nothing.
I leaned in close and hissed. “Do you want to live or die? ‘Cause I’ll let you bleed out right now.”
He swallowed hard and whispered a name.
Flashlights slashed the darkness as EMTs and paramedics arrived with more deputies.
I backed away, let the medics take over, and crossed my fingers.