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  The doors hissed closed. Another volley of gunfire ripped into the cabin. The lift moved. She tucked the gun into her waistband, jumped for the access panel, pushed off the side wall, and pulled herself into the interior of the elevator shaft. She launched herself off the steel purlin support, found the lip of the fourth floor footrail.

  She glanced below her. The cabin stopped at the third floor. She swung one arm behind her, grabbed the pistol and aimed toward the access panel of the lift. She saw no one enter through the opening. The lift descended to the next floor.

  She replaced the gun, adjusted her grip on the footrail, found a footing for her boot, pushed herself up and wedged her left leg against a structural beam to the side. One hand at a time, she pushed her fingers into the rubber seal of the doors, and climbed up to a standing position.

  At the bottom side of the doorframe, the emergency release button glowed in the dim light of the shaft. She kicked it, hard. The doors hissed open. She stood there, on the edge the shaft for a moment, pulled the gun from her waistband, and stepped into the foyer.

  The gunmen were gone. The man she had fought with, gone.

  She ran for the emergency stairwell door across the foyer.

  13:29:59

  Adam shook the haze from his mind. He was being dragged backward down the stairwell. He heard his team shouting to him. Agent Dean had his left arm, Scott, his right. His feet clunked heavily on the concrete steps as they raced him down each flight.

  He saw movement a few floors above. A shadow. Had he seen anything at all? He shook his head, his vision still blurred.

  Blood splattered across his face. Scott stumbled; there was more movement above. Scott fell.

  He heard Dean screaming into his mic, saw him pull back against the side wall and draw his weapon, saw him search the floors above them.

  Disoriented, he crawled down the concrete stairs to Scott’s bloodied body. He was still alive.

  “Scott! Hold on! You’re okay!” Adam moved over his body, found his gun. Rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his palm, looked up at Dean, looked up into the stairwell.

  Dean pointed to him. “Adam. Go. Now. I’ll cover you. Go. Go. Go.”

  He crawled to his knees, crouched, tested his legs, grabbed Scott by the collar, and dragged him down to the next landing. Dean followed closely, firing his weapon in short bursts.

  A bullet ricocheted off the railing, another thudded into the floor a foot to his left. He pulled harder, moved faster. One more floor to go.

  He tugged at the concealed microphone on his lapel. “Mobile 1! We’re coming in hot! Ground floor. Access door. 30 seconds. Confirm.” He saw Dean eject another magazine, slam a full clip in, and fire. “Mobile 1! Confirm.”

  “Confirmed. Relocating now. We’ll be there.”

  “Dean, how many clips you got left?”

  “Last one.”

  “Swap at the door. Get Scott into the truck.”

  Adam slammed into the bottom access door before he saw it. He glanced down at Scott; he was still alive. Dean rushed past him, pushed the door open and grabbed Scott. Light filled the dank lower landing. He heard Scott being hustled into the control van, saw movement one floor above, let loose a short volley of gunfire, felt one of his team grab his shoulder and pull him backward.

  “Adam, we’re set. Let’s go.”

  On the street, the sun blinded him for a moment. He blinked and ran to the front passenger side of the van. Dean closed the back doors from the inside. The van took off before he could sit down. They were safe. He looked into the back of the van and saw Dean working on Scott. Lilly, his tech assist, was on the phone. He turned to the driver.

  “Ian, hospital, fast as you can.”

  “Safe house is twelve minutes away. Medic is en route. ETA twenty minutes.”

  “Scott won’t make it. Protocol can wait. Hospital now.” He turned back to his team. “Dean?”

  “Through and through. He’s losing a lot of blood.”

  He watched Dean shake his head and understood.

  “Lilly?”

  “Hospital has a Resus team ready. Briefed. Want me to report back to The Office?”

  “No.” Adam glanced at the agent bleeding to death in the back of the van. His friend. “We get Scott sorted first. Then I’ll call them.”

  He saw Ian glance at him, “What the hell happened up there?”

  Adam twisted in his chair, reached into the glove box, and pulled a fresh pistol and magazine from inside it’s modified compartment.

  “Shirin Reyes happened.”

  13:34:47

  Shirin stomped her foot down on the accelerator hard. The stolen hatchback was little competition against the heavy, re-enforced van, but it was fast and maneuverable. She ducked in and out of the traffic and sped toward the van ahead.

  13:35:21

  Adam stared at the rear vision mirror on his side of the van. “Ian, blue hatchback. Can’t see the driver through the glare.”

  “Can’t see it.”

  Adam toggled the side window controller and adjusted its angle. “Moving back to the inside lane.”

  “Got it. It’s moving fast.”

  “It’s her. Keep her behind us. The rear doors are bulletproof. Do not let her get adjacent.”

  Adam twisted in his chair to get a better angle, unclasped his seat belt, and readied his weapon.

  He saw Ian’s side mirror shatter. “Shit!”

  “Ian, left. Now!”

  “Adam, I can’t see her. Where is she?”

  He shifted to his side, peered through the window, couldn’t see her, moved forward, checked over Ian’s shoulder.

  “Adam, where is she?”

  “Can’t see her.”

  Ian’s window splintered. The whack was deafening. The laminated layers held, but the glass frosted over in micro-splinters. They couldn’t see through it. They were blind on one side.

  “She’s coming up your side. Go left. Run her off the road! Ian!”

  Another whack. Blood sprayed the front windscreen. Ian slumped forward. Wind whistled through the gaping hole of the driver’s window.

  “No!” Adam grabbed the wheel, nudged Ian’s limp body back in his chair, and fought to control the van. Ian’s leg pinned the accelerator to the floor; he couldn’t reach the brake. He veered the van sharply to the left, crossed the lane, swerved behind a car in front, jumped the curb, then raced down the pedestrian walkway.

  The side of the van scraped against shop-front glass and brick. It careened toward an intersection ahead. Adam yelled in an effort to pull the van back onto the road. He kicked at the pedals but couldn’t reach the brake. The accelerator remained wedged to the floor.

  He didn’t know where Shirin was, couldn’t see out either side of the van. Had to assume she was approaching the other side of the van for the kill shot.

  Lilly screamed his name. “Adam, look out!”

  The van jumped off the walkway onto the road at the intersection. Cars flashed by. He braced himself. A dark shape rushed at the edge of his vision. A car. Thump.

  The back of the van shook, crumpled, and spun wildly to the side. Adam lost his grip on the wheel, was thrown to the far side of the front cabin, and slammed against the passenger door. Ian’s limp body fell sideways, held awkwardly by the fastened seat belt.

  The van stalled in the centre of the road, horns blaring in the background.

  He glanced back. “Lilly?”

  “I’m okay.”

  He scrambled across the front bench seat, unclasped the seat belt around Ian, pulled his body out of the way, jumped behind the wheel, and twisted at the ignition. The engine sputtered to life.

  “Dean?”

  “Gone.” Lilly’s voice broke as she spoke. “Scott’s gone too.”

  “Fuck!” he slammed his hand into the steering wheel. “Dammit!” He hit the steering wheel again, and again.

  “Adam! She’s coming! Ad
am!”

  He stared ahead, saw the blue hatchback heading straight for them. He slammed the gear into forward and gunned the engine. Nothing happened. Shit. He pulled the stick back into reverse, felt it engage and stomped on the accelerator. The van replied instantly.

  “Lilly, open the back doors. I can’t see. The mirrors are gone.”

  13:38:11

  Shirin controlled the wheel with her forearm, slammed the fresh magazine into the Glock, gripped the steering wheel with one hand, and readied to fire from the open side window.

  13:38:16

  Adam twisted in the seat, looked over his shoulder and pulled at the wheel one-handed. The van scraped the side of parked cars along the side of the road. Crushed metal and shattered glass sprayed in his wake. The whack of a bullet colliding with the front windscreen shattered it. Another bullet whipped past an inch from his ear and shredded the headrest.

  “Lilly. When I stop, jump! Grab the go bag.”

  “I’m not bailing on you.”

  “Do it. Use the crowd. Disappear. Meet me back at the safe house. Report back to the Office. We’ll need them to track her.”

  He maneuvered around a traffic light post, smashed through a mailbox. “Hold on!” Slammed the brakes. “Now! Go!”

  He rose in the seat, extended the barrel of his gun through the hole in the windscreen and emptied his clip into the onrushing hatchback. He glanced back, saw Lilly slip out the rear and vanish into a shop front among other panicked onlookers. He dropped back in the seat, stomped on the accelerator, adjusted the steering wheel, and sped dangerously down the hill in reverse.

  13:39:44

  Shirin ignored the shattered glass on her lap. Her windscreen had disintegrated under the gunfire. None of the bullets had found their mark. She aimed through the space over the steering wheel. The man was low, protected by the front end of the van. She aligned the barrel on the front wheel.

  13:40:21

  Adam grunted as the steering wheel pulled violently to the side. The front tire had blown out. He fought the pull with both hands, straightened up, adjusted, pushed the accelerator to the floor and glanced back.

  The van lurched backward. He felt the collision and knew Shirin had rammed him. He had no control. Steering was gone. He could hear the scream of the hatchback’s engine. He jumped up, aimed through the damaged windscreen, and fired into the front of the hatchback. The windscreen splintered around him. He shielded his face and ducked lower in the front seat. He was pinned down.

  Wind whistled in through the open rear doors. He crawled through to the back cabin. He saw the bay ahead. She was going to drop him into the lake. When he came up for air, she’d shoot him. Trapped.

  He searched the cabin for something, anything. The van bounced up, then down. They were on the esplanade. The van smashed through the barrier fence, airborne, tilted up, down, the impact, the water, rushing, sinking, darkness.

  13:40:57

  Shirin stepped from the ruined hatchback. She reloaded the Glock as she walked.

  She stood on the stone block retaining wall of the bay and stared down into the dark water.

  The van had disappeared; large bubbles of air floated up.

  She stood, gun ready. Waiting. The bubbles slowed, then stopped. The water settled into a quiet stillness. Behind her, she heard the chaos and sirens getting louder.

  Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She answered. It was Marcus.

  “Shirin. I found him.”

  CHAPTER 2

  “For some, there are many deaths.”

  THE BOOK OF SEEKAY

  13:40:58

  Adam pulled himself up into the front cabin of the sinking van. His eyes stung from the cold water. He followed the rising bubbles. They bounced off the dash and disappeared far above him. A small trail of air leaked from under the seat and pooled at the foot space of the passenger side.

  The angle was sharp. He struggled to wedge himself far enough for his face to reach the pocket of air. He twisted pulled, and pushed himself up using the seat back for leverage. Air! He gasped in deep shaking breaths.

  The van thudded at the bottom of the bay. It groaned and fell backward onto its roof. He took a deep breath before the air slipped away from the pocket.

  The sounds of the twisted metal settling onto the lake floor echoed hauntingly through the dark water. Debris floated around him in a slow motion, defying the urgency he felt. The lifeless bodies of his colleagues drifted and bumped against him.

  He swam into the back of the cabin and searched frantically for anything he could use to survive. Nothing was as it should be. The darkness was almost complete, a glimmer of light filtering down from the surface.

  His hand found the edge of the scrap bin. It was plastic. Air tight! He emptied it as he swam out through the back door. At the right back wheel, he pulled the survival knife from his belt clasp, extended its blade and thrust it into the side of the tire. He twisted the blade downward, and positioned the bin upside down over the escaping air. It filled quickly.

  His lungs burned. The urgency to inhale consumed him. He wedged his foot under the fuselage to fight against the pull to the surface, thrust his head inside the air filled bin and gasped in deep rasping breaths.

  It was a short reprieve, but it was all he would need.

  13:43:24

  Lilly burst into the toilet stall puffing. The door slammed against the dividing wall and bounced back. She locked it, threw the heavy Go-Bag on top of the closed toilet seat, riffled though it, withdrew the encrypted sat-phone, punched in the access code, and dialed the emergency number. It was answered on the second ring. She identified her code name and clearance code, waited to be connected to the team case manager. He came on line in less than twenty seconds.

  “Secure?” His voice sounded robotic, no emotional inflection.

  “Secure.”

  “Your status?”

  “Clear.”

  “Compromised?”

  “Uncertain.” She fished a SIG Sauer pistol from the bag, checked its magazine. Full. “Adam is in trouble.”

  “The team?”

  “Dead. She killed them.”

  “Hold.”

  She heard the line click. She was being transferred.

  “Agent. This is Deputy Director Zelig. What the hell is happening?”

  “Sir. Shirin Reyes. She must have known we were coming. She was ready. We have one operative still in the field. We have to help him. She’s all over him.”

  “I decide what we have to do. Not you. You’re referring to Agent Dark?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “He’s not your concern any longer. Stay where you are. A team is on the way to pick you up. Stay put.”

  “Sir. Adam—” She heard the line click dead. Asshole!

  13:45:48

  Zelig threw the sat-phone onto the ground and shouted at the shattered pieces as they scattered across the concrete floor of the underground situation room.

  He turned sharply on his heel. His trusted aide, Agent Lipski, looked at him expectantly. “Did you want the team to debrief her on site?”

  Zelig looked away, “No. She won’t know anything. Get rid of her. Make it look like Shirin killed her.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then get me the best tracking team the Agency has. I want Shirin Reyes found. I want her dead! And I want it before the end of the day.”

  “Yes, sir. And if we can locate Agent Dark?”

  “He didn’t survive. Be sure of it.”

  “Of course.”

  13:47:23

  Adam thrust himself up and out of the water. His fingers gripped the outside edge of the stone retaining wall. He pulled himself up quickly and peered over the top of the wall.

  He’d swum to the side and followed the distinctive underwater formwork of the esplanade above, as far as his lungs would let him. He hoped to be out of pistol range.

  Police had arrive
d at the scene. The blue hatchback was still there. No sign of Shirin Reyes. Police had formed a barricade to keep the gathering crowds away.

  He pulled himself up, rolled off the wall, and landed on his feet. His shoes squelched as he walked away from the lake. He looked at his watch; Lilly would have reached the safe house by now. Help would be on the way.

  13:48:45

  Lilly zipped the bag closed, flung it over her shoulder, and left the toilet stall. At the sink, she stared into the dirty mirror. She looked how she felt: shaken.

  She splashed cold water across her face, adjusted her hair, leaned closer to the mirror. In the reflection of her eyes, she searched for something. For what she knew was hidden there.

  She couldn’t leave Adam behind. Just couldn’t.

  She stormed from the store bathroom.

  13:49:04

  Shirin stepped into the taxi and sank into the back seat. She closed her eyes and imagined the face of Harry, her husband. His smile. His laugh. His touch.

  She missed him. She ached for him. But with each day that passed, her memories of him blurred. Like a ghost, he was there, she could feel him, and then he was gone. Instinctively, she reached out to him.

  Her eyes darted open; she looked at her hands, her fingers. She couldn’t feel his skin, couldn’t feel his hand holding hers, couldn’t remember the feeling of his beard stubble against her palm while they kissed. Her fingers running through his hair…a sensation she could never forget. Faded.

  Her eyes blurred. They had taken everything from her.

  She wiped the tears away, looked out the window, felt the gun at the small of her back, and glared. She would take everything from them. One by one.