Jihad

CHAPTER 92

The shots sounded as Dean bolted across the highway. He jumped up the embankment from the road, sprinting between the parked cars as the two fake policemen came out of the room.

“Federal agent!” he yelled, dropping to his knee. He braced the Beretta in his hands.

One of the men spotted him and raised his arm to fire. Dean squeezed off two shots, striking the man in the jaw and temple. His companion threw himself back into the room.

“Get the backup people in — Red Lion is down!” Dean yelled to Rockman, as if the runner would only be able to hear him if he shouted. Dean scrambled to the front wall of the building, half crawling as he made his way toward the door. The man he had shot lay a few feet away, sprawled on the pavement, blackish red blood pooling around him.

There was a siren in the distance. The two FBI agents who’d been watching from the car had taken positions a short distance away, their faces ashen.

“Give yourself up!” Dean yelled to the man inside.

The answer was a muffled gunshot.

Dean rose slowly, knowing exactly what the sound meant.