CHAPTER 67 Sampson
Sampson
I TAP ANNA RIZZO on the arm. “Let’s go inside and see what we can find.”
“We should wait for the bomb squad,” she says.
“I thought you were the bomb squad.”
“I guess we could sneak a peek before the rest of the team gets here.”
As soon as she says it, a red laser dot appears on her forehead.
“Down!” I drop my go bag and tackle her to the sidewalk.
“What the hell?” she shouts. I cover her with my body and drag her behind a dented BMW.
“Sniper! Stay low! He had you zeroed in!” I lift my head and shout as loud as I can: “Everybody down! We’ve got a shooter!”
There’s a lot of noise, so I don’t know if any of the cops or firefighters heard me.
I pull out my service weapon, raise myself up slightly, and peer around the front bumper. Rizzo grabs my shoulder and yanks me back. “He’s got you zeroed now!”
We both flatten ourselves on the soaking-wet pavement. When I turn my head, I can see the dot dancing on the side panel of the car, inches from my skull.
“My radio!” I turn my head in the other direction. There it is. Lying on the sidewalk about six feet away.
Feels like sixty.
I look at Rizzo and push her head down. “Hold still. Don’t go anywhere.”
I get on my knees, then lunge forward and grab my Motorola. I see the red dot on the back of my hand as I pull the radio in and start talking. “Dispatch! Dispatch, this is Sampson, D-five, Sampson, D-five. I’m at the corner of Montgomery Northeast and Trenton.”
“Sampson, D-five, go.”
“We’ve got a sniper, elevated position, somewhere along Montgomery Northeast fourteen hundred block.”
“Sampson, D-five, acknowledged. Shots fired?”
“Negative. But we need to search and secure the area. Subject is armed and dangerous. Sampson, D-five, out!”
Rizzo is curled up against the side of the BMW. The red dot is gone.
“What the hell was he doing?” she says. “Taunting us?”
“I don’t know,” I say, thinking it over. “If it was the bomber, why wouldn’t he put a couple of rounds through us? He definitely had the range.”
A DC Metro Police chopper roars overhead, then seems to brake in midair, hovering over a row of buildings down the street.
“Think they’ll catch him?” asks Rizzo.
“I wouldn’t bet on it. He’s too damn good.”