Chasing Gold

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

Alicia knew every plan changed once enemy contact was established, but that didn’t mean they could just wing it. Research told them that a suite of low-key, private conference rooms sat below the entertainment level near the top of the Stratosphere tower. Alicia and Russo weighed the odds of trying to iron-fist their way into the casino with guns and ammo, perhaps asking the guards to call Agent Merriweather, but decided it wasn’t worth the risk. The other parties would be in the same boat, Alicia decided, and it wasn’t as though Russo and she weren’t weapons themselves.

In the end though, surprisingly it was Merriweather that finally came through. Aware of their destination he’d called ahead and warned the casino and its security detail, expressing the importance of the mission but not the objective. Guns were agreed upon by a very nervous management committee.

Caitlyn would join them to a point, as would Austin. FBI agents were also in attendance; although, again, Merriweather had erred on the side of caution — too much police presence would draw attention.

It was a dangerous, taut and narrow line that Merriweather walked.

They took the elevators to the correct floor and headed for the only conference room that was known to be occupied at this time. The double doors were closed, so Alicia waited until everyone got into position.

“Ready?”

A tap on her shoulder signified the affirmative. Alicia had no idea what she might find on the other side of this door, but fervently hoped the scenario would involve Michael Crouch.

It all came down to this.

Taking a breath, steadying herself, she gripped her handgun and reached for the door handle.

It was wrenched open from the inside and four men came rushing out. Somehow, they had been warned. She recognized two immediately as mercenaries she’d already tangled with. The view beyond was blocked by their bodies. They weren’t armed, so she couldn’t fire on them, but they hit her bodily and bore her to the ground. The men behind her were struck too, falling this way and that, trying to shrug off the attackers.

Alicia rolled against the far wall, bent her legs into it, and pushed off. Her momentum rolled her attacker back and she tumbled right over the top of him. Another pair of legs brushed her face, shins striking her cheekbone and making her grunt in pain. From this vantage point she saw back down the corridor to where Caitlyn and Austin waited halfway to the elevator bank.

She scissor-kicked her legs and jumped up, landing on both feet. Her opponent was rising so she brought an elbow down hard onto the back of his neck, sending him down in a heap on the floor. The doors to the conference room were wide open now and she edged inside.

The room apparently ran the length of the entire floor, but could be partitioned off. She saw a half-raised partition to the right and then another; also doors flung wide open that were built into the fake walls. Mercenaries were hurrying underneath and through; she saw Omar and two more she recognized and then a whole bunch of others that had to be the terrorists taking charge of the banner. The flag itself wasn’t in sight, but she saw Crouch and Terri far to the right.

“Hey!”

Nobody acknowledged her. She didn’t fire on fleeing, unarmed men, but she did put her head down and run in pursuit. A couple of FBI agents were at her side, but Russo appeared to have been caught up in the corridor tangle.

She slid under the first partition, letting the highly polished floors do the work, regaining her feet a moment later. Three more strides and she was behind the last man, leaping and delivering a flying kick to the small of his back which sent him tumbling forward into the next two men in a bone-clattering game of human skittles. Alicia leapt over them all, momentum taking her clear, and sped after the next in line.

Even now, she was chasing Crouch.

Ahead, she saw more mercs and then the tall man who appeared to be their leader. Crouch and the two thieves were just in front of him, running among mercs and terrorists. Alicia saw small things catching the light in the hands of her enemies and assumed they were makeshift weapons, ready to kill at a moment’s notice.

She caught the next man up within seconds, who turned as he saw her arrival in the glass reflections to his left, then lashed out at Alicia. Still running, she caught his wrist, snatched it down and then backward, coming in close to ensure she broke the limb. The man screamed and fell away, one more in her wake. A quick glance behind showed that several FBI agents were tending the injured, or securing them, as three more tried to keep up with her. Russo was visible now too, his forehead smeared with blood.

Alicia slid under a second partition, veered her run toward the glass vista to her left, and hooked a boot in front of another man’s running foot. This sent him sprawling headlong whilst she bounced off the floor and continued her sprint. She saw him reach desperately for her as she rushed by and narrowly missed stamping on his fingers.

You can’t win ’em all.

This time she leapt through a door, sensed a man awaited her on the other side, and threw her body forward. The dive caused his quickly lowered weapon to slice the back of her jacket rather than her face, but she was forced to halt and confront him.

He hacked at her with a box-cutter, constant jabs which she deftly parried. Two thrusts sliced her skin, making the blood pour. Alicia treated him with respect, knowing this was a mercenary and had to have had some training, but the first time he overreached she caught his wrist, snapped it and then broke his nose before jamming the box cutter into his chest.

He went down, groaning.

Alicia spun and took stock. Half and fully raised partitions lay ahead all the way to the side of the tower. Most of the terrorists, along with Crouch, the thieves and two mercenaries, were already close to that edge and Alicia knew exactly why.

A staircase, leading up or down.

If all went as planned then, their adversaries would have only one way to go.

She turned again, yelling at the following FBI agents to get the top floor evacuated as quickly as they could. Returning to the chase, she saw the mercenary leader yelling to another tall man that appeared to be ordering his terrorist minions left and right. At that moment Crouch also swiveled his head around.

Alicia waved.

Behind she heard Russo’s grumbled, outraged comment and realized the big man had caught up. Crouch turned away, running along with the two thieves.

“He didn’t wave back!” Alicia sulked out loud.

“Neither would I,” Russo panted back, “if I saw you.”

“Out of shape, Rob?”

“Saving myself.”

“Believe me,” Alicia put on a spurt of speed, “she’s never gonna love you.”

Russo growled at her back. Alicia counted six terrorists, three mercs, Crouch and the two thieves disappearing into an unobtrusive door built into the side of the tower. A green sign showed a man climbing a set of stairs. She dived to the side as one of her opponents flung a full-size chair at her.

The legs struck her shoulder, then rebounded away. Pain shot through her, but only served to energize her entire body. She jumped over, picked up the chair, and sent it flying straight back at the merc. It struck the top of his shoulders and then bounced away down the stairs.

Alicia wrenched open the door and leapt through.