“I’ve still got the shot, TC.”
The frustration was evident in Poniard’s tone, and Lillian couldn’t blame him. Preparing to fire, and being cleared to fire, but then having the order rescinded at the last second, was irritating. But exercising control was also an important part of being a SWAT team member.
“Bulldog One, can you beanbag him?” Carnell asked.
“Roger that, TC. Moving into position.” Lillian grinned, replacing her HK MP5 with the shotgun strapped behind her back. The beanbag round was only accurate up to about six meters, but she was within range. Its blow was designed to cause minimal permanent damage while rendering the subject immobile.
The fact that it would hurt Screaming Dad like hell didn’t bother Lillian a bit. She crawled forward. She was going to have to pull some sort of Tom Cruise roll-and-shoot nonsense in order to get into position in the quickest way possible. She usually went for much less drama. But not today.
Guy started screaming again. Lillian had had enough.
You want to dance, buddy? We’ll dance. Together.
“On my mark,” she whispered to the team. “Three, two, one.”
Lillian pushed herself from her crouched position in the shadows, twisting her body into a roll as she cleared the wall and came into the opening of the kitchen, landing in a kneel.
She saw surprise light the tango’s face. He was swinging his gun around toward her when her finger gently squeezed the trigger on the shotgun, her aim perfect.
The beanbag round hit him square in the chest, propelling him back through the air and away from the table and hostages. The gun fell out of his hand.
Less than two seconds later Lillian was on the tango and the rest of the team was filing through the door, grabbing the children and wife and leading them to safety.
Screaming Dad groaned as Lillian grabbed his hands to cuff them. “Tango is secure.”
“You’re a woman!” The man’s outrage couldn’t be more clear.
Lillian arched a single eyebrow. “Yeah? Well, you’re an idiot. Turn over.”
“I think you done broke my ribs.”
Lillian didn’t give a rat’s ass whether this jerk had a couple of cracked ribs. He was lucky Philip hadn’t turned the trigger-happy new kid loose on him. “Shut up. I’ll break more than your ribs.”
Within a few more minutes the perp was loaded into the back of a squad car and the wife and kids were handed over to the paramedics.
“Nice work, everyone,” Derek said over their comm unit. “Let’s get packed up and back to HQ to debrief.”
Lillian bumped fists with everyone as they made it back to the car. Even Saul, who was smiling like an idiot. Everybody was walking away today. No one seriously injured, even the tango.
That made today a good day.
“Beers on me,” Derek said.
That made it an even better day.
* * *
LATER THAT NIGHT after the debriefing and the beers, Damien Freihof sat in an abandoned warehouse across town, staring at “Mr. Fawkes.” Damien had made it his mission over the last six months to destroy Omega Sector, piece by piece, in payment for taking the life of his beloved wife.
Fawkes, as he so cleverly liked to be called, had proven very useful over the last few months in that endeavor. Fawkes’s inside information on Omega had been quite helpful indeed.
Fawkes still wouldn’t give Damien his real name. Damien wondered how upsetting it would be to the younger man to know that Damien had figured it out weeks ago. The man might be brilliant, but Damien didn’t work with people he didn’t know.
Damien’s and Fawkes’s ideologies were different. Fawkes looked to destroy and rebuild all of law enforcement. Damien just wanted Omega to suffer the way he did when he’d lost his Natalie. Wanted them to know what it meant to experience unbearable loss.
But if Damien could bring chaos across the country by destroying the foundation of all law enforcement, as was Fawkes’s plan, then hell, he was up for that, too.
“It’s time,” Fawkes said as he paced back and forth hardly visible beside a window, even in the full moon. “You’ll be ready, right? We only have eight days.”
Damien sat perched against a desk. “Yes, I’ll be ready to do my part in your master plan.”
“We’ve gotten rid of two of their team members completely. Another is injured and not fully up to speed.” Fawkes continued his pacing.
“It’s a mistake to underestimate the Critical Response Division, even when they’re weakened.” Damien had learned that the hard way.
“They brought in a new guy on the SWAT team. That was unexpected.” Fawkes stopped and studied Damien as he said it, as if gauging his response.
Damien knew all about the new guy. “Is that a problem?”
“No.” Fawkes resumed his pacing. “The team thinks they’re so smart, but they’re not. I’ve left a trail. It’s going to lead right to the very heart of the SWAT team. The sweetheart.”
“Lillian Muir?” Damien raised an eyebrow.
“I’ve got special plans for her. Have already left clues in the system that lead back to her as the mole I know they’re searching for.”
Damien had to admit Fawkes’s computer skills were impressive. He’d provided information that had helped Damien a great deal. Most particularly two weeks ago, when Omega had almost captured him at his own house. Without a warning from Fawkes, Damien would never have made it out.
Nor taken one of the SWAT team out of action in the process.
Fawkes might not be the easiest person to work with, but he definitely knew how to manipulate a computer system. And how to manipulate people, for that matter. People didn’t take him seriously enough, including those at Omega Sector.
Which was probably why he was trying to blow up—literally—all of law enforcement.
Or maybe he just had mommy issues. Whatever. Damien didn’t care why Fawkes was doing it, he just wanted to see Omega Sector destroyed. If Lillian Muir was going to take the fall for that, even better. Damien would do a little checking up on her himself.
Fawkes wasn’t the only one with computer skills and digging-up-info skills.
“Is there even going to be anyone left to search for the villain after you get through next week?” Damien asked.
Fawkes stilled. “I’ll be left. I will be one of the few tactically trained agents left in the whole agency. Hell, in the whole country. And all the destruction will lead right to Lillian Muir’s door. She’ll be dead and unable to open the door, but the destruction and blame will still lead right to her.”
Damien grinned. One thing Fawkes had was exuberance. “Sounds like a perfect plan to me.”
Jace Eakin stretched his long legs out in front of him in an office chair that probably hadn’t been comfortable even when it was new. Now that it was ratty and at least a dozen years past that, it was even less so. His knee was stiff from too many hours cramped in a plane, his shoulder vaguely ached from a bullet he’d taken years ago in Afghanistan. Thirty-two was too young to feel this old.
He was in an office that looked like it was out of some old gumshoe