The area around the bank was a war zone. Torsten Dahl began to feel right at home. This was his stage, at last. He quickly threaded his way through a dozen haphazardly parked cop cars until he reached the front line.
A cop stared at him. “Who the hell are you?”
Dahl whipped out the brand new I.D.
“SPEAR?” The cop shook his head. “What will they come up with next?”
“Do you have a situation report, sir?”
“Yeah. We have fourteen hostages in there, a dead guard and a crazy perp. Damn bitch is shooting every few minutes. Situation’s going straight to hell, man. That’s my report.”
Dahl rocked back on his heels. “The shooter is a woman?”
“Yeah. Of the female variety. ’Sup, you don’t get ’em back in Blighty?”
“I’m not English.” Dahl related his findings through his throat mic.
“Special Tactics are here.” The cop pointed to a newly arrived vehicle. Special Tactics were DC’s equivalent to SWAT.
“You want me to handle this?” Dahl asked Hayden. “Or leave it to SWAT?”
The cop considered him more closely.
“We need the shooter alive.” Hayden’s voice crackled in Dahl’s ear. “And preferably the person she came to shoot. Whoever that might be.”
Karin’s voice then joined the connection. “One thing’s clear — the person she came to shoot is still alive. Otherwise, she’d have killed herself by now.”
“We have to get in there, Dahl.” Hayden decided. “Now.”
The Swede just nodded. He didn’t have to check to know Alicia had his back. When he turned back to the cop, the man actually backed away. “I ain’t going anywhere with you, bud. You both got that crazy in you. My ole bud, bless his soul. He was the same, plain—”
Alicia shushed him. “Listen, bud. How did you know?”
The cop pulled a face. “What?”
“That this bogus bank robber acted the same way as Turner’s shooter?”
“I was there, miss. I saw it all. A lot of us did.”
“But how have you seen her.” Alicia gestured at the bank building.
“Oh. She’s been wandering about the place. Staring out the windows. Checking rooms and offices, according to the spies in the sky. Who knows what else? Seems like she’s searching for something.”
“Someone,” Dahl corrected him. “When’s the last time you saw her.”
“Before you got here. Maybe ten minutes.”
“This is a rescue mission,” Dahl said. “Check with your lookouts now. Do they see her?”
The cop took out his radio and looked up at the surrounding buildings. “You guys. You seen any activity in there?”
“Not a damn thing.”
“Negative. Been a while—”
A shot rang out from inside the building. The Special Tactics team looked like it was gearing up for action. Dahl didn’t wait. He vaulted the police car, sprinted the hundred yards to the front door and pressed his face to the glass. Alicia kept pace.
Inside, the bank was a scene of desperation and confusion. Several people were knelt with faces to the floor and hands on heads, others were standing hesitantly, still more were walking uncertainly toward the doors.
Dahl wrenched them open. “Move it. Get out of here!”
He pushed inside with Alicia. The Englishwoman stopped the first group. “Where’s the crazy bitch?”
A young man with slicked back hair pointed in the direction of the open offices and interview rooms. “Back there.”
“She with anyone?”
The man nodded, a guilty look flashing across his face. “Chased Michelle back there a few minutes ago.”
“Who’s Michelle?” Dahl said as he tore off.
“Just a teller,” the man said with bewilderment. “She’s just a bank teller.”
Dahl crossed the open floor in seconds. At that moment, he saw movement ahead — a woman stepping into the open and holding a gun as if she knew how to use it. Dahl launched into a forward skid, feet first, bringing his weapon around as he flew across the polished floor and placing a few pounds of pressure on the trigger.
“Stop!”
But the woman fired reflexively. The bullet flew past, striking a nearby desk. Dahl hit the woman’s shins at speed, knocking her legs out from under her faster than she could think. She hit the ground even as he shot by and he grabbed her — going for her hands and the gun.
She twisted like a dervish, pulling away, and delivered a solid strike to his temple that made him see stars. She had been trained, this woman, no doubt in his mind. As he shook it off and went in again, she rolled away from him, three, four times, until she’d gained a little distance.
Brought the gun up in front of her…
… and then turned it toward her heart and pulled the trigger.
Dahl clicked his tongue angrily. When he looked around, Alicia was emerging from the room back there, her face a cheerless mask.
“One dead body in there,” she whispered. “Nametag says ‘Michelle Baker.’ Shot in the head at point-blank range.”
There was the sound of someone choking, and then bursting into tears. Dahl looked up to see the man with the slicked-back hair standing a few feet away.
“That bitch hunted her.” He sobbed. “She wasn’t interested in the bank or the money or any of us. She knew something. She came here hunting for Michelle on her first day back from vacation.”
Hayden made her way over to where Dahl and Alicia seemed to be comforting one of the bank tellers. A bit odd, but then you never knew what those two were going to do next. She reached the conversation just as Alicia was querying as to the dead clerk’s recent holiday destination.
What?
But the broken down man answered immediately. “Atlantic City. That’s where she always goes. Saves her money up for a whole year and then hits the best east-coast casinos. One big blowout.”
Hayden looked around. The bank hadn’t been damaged in any way. A bank teller? She whipped her head around as one of the lead cops said: “You won’t believe this.”
His colleagues looked over. The cop indicated the dead body of the assailant, hand still wrapped around the barrel of the gun she’d turned on herself.
“She still has her ID. Name’s Leanne Prowse. A registered nurse.”
With the mystery deepening and no clues forthcoming, the team took their leave of the scene and headed back to HQ. Ben and Karin were already scrutinizing the backgrounds and lives of both Michelle Baker and Leanne Prowse. Dahl and Alicia were explaining how the woman, a local nurse, had fought, albeit briefly, like a highly capable, trained operative. Hayden was fielding calls from Sarah Moxley and, more importantly, Secretary of Defense Gates.
The minivan behind them went unnoticed. Its blacked-out windows concealed a wealth of surveillance equipment, some of which had been put to good use at the bank, and some of it right now.
Track carefully and don’t engage, were the instructions from on high. And locate their HQ. The plan is going well. No one knew where this new covert team sprung from, but they needed to know everything about them.
The new team was becoming more famous by the minute.