Chapter Eighteen #2
She went through the door and waited for it to click shut.
Quaid was in front of her, then spun her around and pressed her to a wall in the quiet hallway.
“I can’t…” His mouth slammed into hers, the kiss rough and possessive, and thrilling.
He explored her mouth, touched her body like no man ever had.
She softened against him, running her hands over his shoulders and through his hair.
He groaned and set her away from him to pace the hall.
“It’ll be all right.”
He eyed her carefully before walking back to her side. “Whit could die out there. He isn’t in good enough shape to protect himself, let alone you.”
“We can protect him, and we will.”
“You have a lot of faith in us.”
“It’s not faith. It’s the way it has to be.” She ran her hands over his arms, grateful for the strength in those muscles, the skill that represented, and the commitment in his eyes.
He grunted but took her hand. “Woman, you are driving me crazy.”
“It’s what I do best.” He squeezed her hand, a new experience for her, and her heart somersaulted into a fluttering beat. Thank God. She couldn’t fight him. She might argue with Whit, but she wouldn’t hurt Quaid for anything.
He pulled her to the elevator, keeping her close. She wouldn’t have objected if he’d kissed her again. Hell, she’d have let him go further than that, but he was always mindful about watching eyes, and stabbed the down button instead. “Let’s go practice. The better we are, the better this will go.”
&&&&&&&&&&
QM International Situation Brief: 16:30:20 PST 12/26 – San Diego HQ. All active missions verified and secure. Security Level 4 remains in effect. Utilize chain of command for information. No release to media authorized. ?
“Let’s run it again.” Mackey was not holding back, but nobody said a word.
The cargo area was exactly what they wanted.
A large, open cavern, previously used for the final stages of a manufacturing process for medical supplies, was currently empty except for debris.
They’d grabbed crates, a dumpster, metal storage units, a couple of motor pool vehicles, and anything else they could find to build a maze with one shooter hidden.
They utilized the only remaining lights to keep the empty echo of the place.
Given Quaid’s mood, Mackey’s methods worked for their situation.
His friend had been none to happy to discover the change in the setup.
Having to protect a vulnerable person was a whole different scenario than what they’d drawn out.
Thank God, Mac was former Delta. Execute, recover, and exfil, and fight all the way in and out – his skill set.
Harrison monitored. Mackey coached. Frank bitched. Hunt stayed silent and lethal. Ryker kept studying the layout. And Quaid worried about Alanna.
He and Hunt had worked together on Navy missions.
Harrison was Hunt’s former commander. They had shorthand none of them rest of them had.
Quaid had served with Mackey for several CIA missions.
It was how they met. Alanna, Ryker, and Frank’s tactics were similar.
He and Alanna had done enough together, they could adapt.
They all had commonalities and experience, but they needed more practice to merge what they had. Mac’s specialty.
How the hell they were working in Whit he couldn’t fathom.
The man had been out of the military for fifteen years and wasn’t in a physical condition to make any progress in such a short amount of time.
But if the man believed he should be here as secondary bait, Quaid wasn’t fighting Alanna on her agreement with his request.
“Weapons loaded, maze in place, targets active,” Mackey hollered at them. “Alanna point. Hunt and Quaid backup. Frank, Harrison, security. Ryker stays with Whit. Let’s go.”
Hunt raised a brow, staring at Mac. “We’re leaving your skills out of this equation?”
Mac smirked. “No, but I don’t need as much practice. I do close quarter drills all the time with somebody. Military and police.”
Alanna took point at the opening of the maze.
Hunt stacked behind her, Quaid behind him.
Mackey walked the line once, checking spacing.
“Don’t crowd the fatal funnel,” he advised.
Quaid adjusted his position by inches. None of them wanted dead in the first blast of a weapon. Reset, they stayed in place.
“This is not a military op.” Mackey moved to the front. “And it’s not a police call-out action either. We are doing both because we have no fucking idea what Mercer is going to do first. Move when I say move, slow when I say slow. Your job is to be thorough and keep Alanna alive.”
Alanna kept her eyes forward. Her shoulders tensed, but she stayed focused and stubborn as hell.
He mirrored her attitude. They weren’t firing, only practicing to overwhelm.
Besides the fact the building wasn’t built for live fire, their objective was to identify where angles, weak spots, and targets were.
“You ready, Remy?” Mackey called into the stage area.
“Target ready.” Remy was moving their objective every round. He was a canny son of bitch and was catching them off guard with unpredictable positions.
“Button hook left,” Mackey ordered. “Hunt, cross. Quaid, deep corner. Call it when you see it. Move.”
Alanna moved through and took a hard left. “Left clear.”
Hunt crossed past her to the opposite wall. “Right clear.”
Quaid moved past them both, weapon up, eyes scanning the far corner behind the stack of crates. “Deep corner clear.”
“Hall!” Mackey barked.
Hunt moved to cover. Seconds past. “Target acquired. By the fucking water fountain, Remy?”
“Time. Too slow.” Mackey checked their positions. “You hesitated Alanna. At the door. Hesitations get you killed. Don’t think. Move.”
“Noted.”
“That hallway is a death trap.” Hunt pronounced, shoving the target at Remy. “If he takes refuge in there, we are ducks in a shooting gallery. It doesn’t matter how we’re lined up.”
Harrison twisted to check the open ceiling of the building. “Would we benefit from a sniper in the rafters?”
Ryker stepped forward and studied the beams, too. “They stripped this place. There’s no where to camouflage up there.”
“We could build something like a hunting hide.” Remy could pull from his Cajun youth to do it, too.
Mackey examined the massive space again. “It’ll take too long, but a platform misidentified as an air conditioning unit might work. And let’s define our objective. Are we here to capture him or kill him?”
Quaid’s special operations and spy experience flooded his memory. “We all know where this is leading. We’re dealing with a man who is a trained sniper, and he developed all those skills along with a few unexpected tricks. Let’s borrow the idea and be unpredictable.”
Alanna moved to the hallway. “Smoke and mirrors.”
Frank followed her. “Like a haunted house.”
“More or less. We can’t go into the hallway without being picked off, but he can’t hide there either without being seen in the mirrors. Lose-lose. And narrows his options.”
“Oh boy, who is explaining that expense to Elizabeth?” Remy muttered.
“Harrison,” Quaid uttered in tandem with Mackey. Harrison made a face at both of them.
“We’re here to kill him,” Alanna stated, her quiet determination locking them all in place. “No matter how much I’d like to take him alive and make him talk about all his other victims, it’s not going to happen.” Her eyes went to Hunt. “You agree, right?”
Hunt was a study in stillness. “He won’t let us capture him. We’ve been close too many times. He’s already guessed what is about to happen. But he is sure he can beat us.”
Ryker moved to stand by Frank. “Agreed.”
Frank added a caution. “We have to make this happen with no collateral damage. I can’t explain civilians hurt or killed to the police chief.”
“The aim is only us in the line of fire.” Alanna’s grit struck him deep. He kept from pulling her to him and begging her to be careful by running Marine Corps cadence in his head.
Mackey broke the moment. “We have work to do. Quaid take point. Frank, cross, Ryker, deep cover. Alanna and Hunt, back door. Harrison gets Whit and stays back. Regardless, someone in this will have to check the halls, mirrors or not. But we’ll work that out.
I need to watch what everybody is bringing to the table, so give it your all.
The point is to move together as a smooth team, performing without hesitation, moving as one unit. ”
Three more rounds and Mackey put himself in for left, Alanna for cross, Quaid for deep cover. Frank and Ryker were on backup. Hunt remained a wild card for any shit the killer brought to the fight. Harrison would take Whit again.
As each round got smoother, Mackey’s mood settled and Quaid gathered confidence grew that they’d get out of this alive. An old saying flashed: No plan survives first contact with the enemy.
No matter what, forcing this to work their way was not an option. They had to be ready for anything.
&&&&&&&&&&
The person who said too many cooks spoiled the broth couldn’t have been more right. They quibbled about the wording on the message they were leaving in the homeless areas.
Whit had an opinion, then retired to nap. Alanna had firm ideas that defied argument. He didn’t want it too obvious. Mackey’s solution had no subtlety. It was finally Kerry who cut through all the bullshit and gave them a direction.
You keep screwing the pooch. You know how to find me. Let’s do this. “Give it to the priest to give him.”
Kerry’s suggestion, a manhunt pushing every dark corner, and a team practiced and ready should get results. The wording could be Alanna or it could be Whit. For this scenario, it didn’t matter. Whit was with Alanna. But Mercer could interpret it however his pathology required.
Kerry’s final statement on the way out the door for lunch – “He’s not playing with all his bullets loaded, so let’s quit acting like he is” – sealed it.