Blown (21 page)

A
fter an expedited briefing
, Kaplan connected his phone's Bluetooth to the wireless headset system he and Moss were using. "Alan, meet Senior Inspector Pete Moss, U. S. Marshals Service. Moss, Alan, my handler."

"Okay gentlemen," Alan said. "Let's get down to business. Eyeballs in three, two, one." There was a pause. "Whoa, what a mess. Give me second to locate your phone."

"What does he mean,
eyeballs
?" Moss asked.

Kaplan pointed to the sky. "Spy satellite, what did you think?"

"What if it was cloudy?"

"Then it would be harder."

Alan interrupted, "Pinpointing your location…and I got you. Looks like you are tucked behind some sort of heavy machinery."

"That's us," Kaplan said. "Valkyrie is out by the water somewhere. The flash I saw came from one of those loading cranes at the end of the terminal."

"Bringing the infrared online and, … there she is. She's in the far west crane. Bird's eye view says you have her cornered. Looks like her only escape is down the ladder. That will put her in the open and leave you with a clean shot."

"You're not giving her enough credit, I doubt that's her only escape. She's not that careless." Kaplan paused. "Any cover between us and the crane?"

"Three hundred meters ahead is what appears to be a rock pile," Alan said. "Six meters wide, three meters high. Can you make it there?"

Kaplan looked at Moss and nodded. Moss returned the nod. "No problem," Kaplan said.

"Two assets enroute," Alan said. "Eight and ten minutes out respectively."

"Roger that."

Moss looked at Kaplan, "On three?"

Kaplan nodded.

"One." Moss took a deep breath. "Two. Three."

Both men left the cover of the track hoe and ran for the rock pile.

Bullets peppered the ground.

W
hen the two
men appeared out of nowhere, she saw what they were running toward, a rock pile about halfway between them and her. She fired a few shots to push them back into hiding but they kept running, closing the gap.

She focused on the man to her left. He was slower than the other man. Less agile. An easier target. She zoomed in with her night vision scope—Pete Moss. Not her target, however, still a potential threat. During the time she spent with Moss while impersonating WitSec Inspector April Moore, she grew to like the man. Physically, she was attracted to him, especially his dimples and captivating smile. His voice was deep and authoritative. Somehow Kaplan had recruited him; nevertheless, he was not her target. She would not kill him unless she had to, but she might need to slow him down so she could get Kaplan without Moss's interference.

Valkyrie rotated her scope to the right and scanned for her target. Kaplan's figure ran through the crosshairs and disappeared from her field of vision. As she tried to follow his movements, he kept darting from side to side. At this zoom setting, her scope was tight and Kaplan's serpentine running style and speed made it difficult to keep him in her sights, so she quit trying, anticipated his movements, and fired.

And missed.

Shot after shot, she missed her target until he finally disappeared behind the rock pile. She rotated her scope back to the left and reacquired Moss. He was moving slow. He was huffing and puffing, his chest heaved in and out. He wasn't weaving, an easy shot. She lined up her target and squeezed the trigger.

Through the scope she saw him fall to the ground. Now she could concentrate all her attention on Kaplan.

K
aplan was breathing hard
when he dove behind the rock pile. Knowing Valkyrie was trying to pinpoint him in her scope was nerve racking and exhilarating all at the same time. Her reputation as a sniper was well known to him so he ran in random patterns and angles to hopefully throw off her aim. Valkyrie had fired at him several times, missing by a hefty margin each time. He could envision her swinging the barrel left and right trying to keep up with his zigzag route.

He turned to look for Moss. He heard the big man pounding his way toward the rock pile and saw a shadow backlit by the glow from the fire running in the darkness. Kaplan heard the suppressed shot and then Moss grunted. He watched his silhouette reach for his left calf muscle and stumble to the ground. Instinctively and with total disregard of the danger, Kaplan sprinted to Moss, seized him by the arm, pulled him to his feet, and moved them both toward the rock pile. The ground around them erupted from gunfire.

"That bitch shot me," Moss yelled as they raced toward cover.

They both fell to the ground behind the rock pile, breathing heavy, and sweating profusely.

"How bad is it?" Kaplan asked.

"I think it's just a surface wound but it burns like hell."

"I'm surprised Valkyrie didn't shoot you in the chest. As slow as you were running, she could have hit you between the eyes."

"Nice pep talk, Kaplan. It's not me she was paid to kill. Besides, I think she likes me and this is her way of showing it."

"What? Not killing you?"

"You said she was sweet on me."

"No, I said she sweet talked you. She has higher standards."

Kaplan leaned over Moss's leg, whipped open his knife, and said, "Let me take a look, we'll see how much she really likes you."

Kaplan pulled out his penlight, stuck it between his teeth, and sliced the fabric off Moss's pants open just enough so he could see the wound.

"Guess you are right, it's only superficial. She must be sweet on you. Now, take off your neck buff," Kaplan said.

"What?"

Kaplan pointed. "Your neck buff. Take it off and give it to me so I can clean your leg."

Moss pulled it over his head and handed it to Kaplan.

Kaplan took the buff to wipe the excess blood from Moss's leg. "Good news, Deputy, you're going to live. Bullet took a quarter inch size plug out of the side of your leg but it isn't too bad. Bleeding like a stuck pig right now though. No more running for you," Kaplan said. "Not until the bleeding stops." Kaplan folded Moss's neck buff and placed it back on his leg. "Here, hold pressure on it."

Moss clamped his hand over the wound.

Kaplan removed his own neck buff and stretched it around Moss's muscular calf. "Damn," he said. "Not big enough for your fat leg. Give me your belt."

"You're a demanding asshole."

"You know, Moss, I never took you for a whiner." He didn't look up while he worked on the wound. "Cut the crap and give me your belt."

"Your bedside manner really sucks."

Kaplan cinched the belt around Moss's leg, putting enough pressure to slow the bleeding but not enough to act as a tourniquet.

"Still there, Alan?" Kaplan said.

"Still here. Just watching you two Bozos. Like watching Laurel and Hardy. I still have a good heat signature on Valkyrie. Kind of surprising, but she hasn't budged an inch."

"Moss will have to stay here for a while. Took one in the leg. Bleeding won't stop till his heart rate comes down. Field dressing in place. You got a fix on my next cover?"

"Bad news, the next two hundred forty meters, you'll be in the open. There is a shed at the base of the crane. Can Moss shoot?"

"Yes, I can shoot. I took one in the leg not my trigger finger," Moss interrupted. "And I'm in range to hit the crane from here. At the very least, it will distract her. Never know, I might get lucky and actually hit the crazy bitch."

"How are you two fixed on ammo?"

"Between the two of us," Moss explained. "We have a hundred and two rounds. Three full mags each."

"I'll leave two mags with Moss," Kaplan said. "Leaves me with seventeen rounds. Moss can keep her distracted while I make it to the shed."

"It'll take me a few shots to find the right arc," Moss said.

"No wind," Alan said. "That should help."

"How do you know that?" Moss asked.

"Windsock at Newark International is flat," Alan explained. "Assets are four and five minutes out now."

"Roger that," Kaplan said. "Moss, find your arc."

Moss's first shot hit metal on the lower part of the crane. He adjusted the arc and fired again this time hitting the crane just below the platform the shooter was on.

"Anytime you're ready," Moss said.

Kaplan didn't hesitate. "Now." He vaulted toward the shed as if his life depended on it.

It did.

K
aplan felt slightly winded
from the first sprint when he ran for the small building by the crane. After pulling Moss to safety, his rest break was no more than three or four minutes before he was on the run again. The distance was shorter this time, but not by much. Still, two hundred forty meters was a long haul. Especially in the open with a sniper taking pot shots.

Two hundred forty meters.

Roughly two hundred sixty yards.

Almost eight hundred feet.

And Kaplan's energy was waning.

Halfway to the building Kaplan's pace began to slow. He no longer had the endurance he had in his twenties. The muscles in his legs were fatigued and just wouldn't churn any faster.

Moss had done his job so far and kept Valkyrie from getting off a shot that came anywhere close to hitting him. The closest she had gotten was over six feet.

Then Moss stopped shooting.

Kaplan compensated by increasing the frequency and duration of his serpentine movements. But that also increased his total running distance to the building.

He could see the muzzle flashes in the dark from Valkyrie's rifle and clearly hear the suppressed pops as well.

"Come on, Moss." Kaplan was breathing heavy. "I sure could use a little help out here."

"Gun jammed. Give me a second."

Each flash was followed by a pop and the ground near him would explode simultaneously.

Valkyrie's shots were getting closer and Kaplan's speed was slowing even more. It was only a matter of seconds before she would hit him. The pendulum had swung to Valkyrie's advantage.

"Got it," Kaplan heard Moss say through his headset and then the firing resumed at Valkyrie's position.

Her return fire was off target. Back to missing by several feet. He could hear Moss's rounds pinging off the metal structure. Sparks sporadically ricocheted off the girders.

Fifty feet and closing.

He knew Valkyrie's shooting angle had changed. She was now shooting down instead of out. The closer he got to the building, the more pronounced her barrel swings were to track his serpentine path. And the more she had to swing her rifle barrel, the better his odds of not getting mowed down by the assassin.

Moss continued firing and suddenly the assassin stopped shooting.

"What happened?" Kaplan asked.

"Don't know," Moss replied. "Maybe I got a hit."

"No, she's not hit," Alan interjected. "She's moving across the crane's lifting arm."

Kaplan reached the side of the building. It was a small maintenance shed used to support the two loading cranes at this remote end of the shipping terminal. He dropped to his knees then fell into a sitting position against the shed.

"I need a minute to catch my breath," Kaplan panted. "What's she doing now?"

"I don't know," Alan said. "She moved out on the crane's arm and hasn't moved since. At least for the past few seconds anyway."

Kaplan pulled out his weapon and scooted to the edge of the building. He took a quick glance around the side of the building and up at the crane. The tall crane structure and the sprinkle of stars in the sky above were all he saw in the darkness.

"I don't get it," Alan said.

Kaplan heard the crane's diesel engine generator fire up and noticed a large rectangular shadow lift off the loading dock.

"I do. She's raising a cargo container."

"She's what?" Alan asked.

"She's in the crane operator's cabin and she's lifting a cargo container."

"It's her escape plan," Moss said.

Kaplan could tell the deputy knew something he didn't by the confident tone in his voice. "Talk to me, Moss. How the hell is she going to escape?"

"Assets are at the terminal entrance trying to clear the roadblock," interrupted Alan. "Looks like the FBI doesn't want to let them in."

"Roger that, Alan. Now let Moss give us his theory. We're all ears, Deputy."

"My guess is she'll drop down to the spreader and use the remote operator's controls to position the container over the water. She'll lower it until she's close enough to jump."

"Moss?" Kaplan said, "What the hell's a spreader?"

"It's a piece of loading equipment on the crane that attaches to the cargo containers."

"One day you'll have to tell me how you know all this crap."

A
good assassin
always had an alternative escape plan if things went awry.

Some plans were better than other ones and this time her choices were limited. It was a bad backup plan from the onset and now, her options had dwindled and she was forced to execute it.

She had failed to kill her target tonight although she knew there would be another opportunity. And soon. The unexpected arrival of the FBI and the explosion of the warehouse were unforeseen complications no assassin could have prepared for. Now her target was back on the grid and his movements would be easier to track. And she was like a hound dog following a scent. A week, perhaps as long as a month, she would stay on his trail until another opportunity presented itself. And when that time came, she wouldn't miss.

Now, her first priority was survival. Her only escape route was the water. Crossing the Hudson River in the middle of the night was not something she relished, however it was a necessity if she wanted to stay alive. And free.

She fired up the diesel generator on the gantry crane and activated the equipment. The network of trolleys, and pulleys, and cables tightened, lifting the spreader and the attached cargo container. While the container was in transit, she spun around and used her night vision scope to locate her opponents. Kaplan was still hiding behind the shed and she could see his signature intermittently peeking around the corner. In the distance she saw Moss limping toward her. He was making a straight-line attack as if taunting her to take another shot at him. He held his leg with one hand and with the other, his pistol. She had no ax to grind with the deputy marshal; he was not part of the deal.

In the distance, she saw more emergency vehicles arriving at the shipping terminal and an increasing interest in the activity where she was. Someone had noticed them and that meant cops and helicopters with searchlights and no telling what else. Too much attention, too soon, would come her way. She needed to get away while she had the chance. Ten minutes from now would be too late.

The spreader holding the container came to a stop a few feet beneath her. She exited the Plexiglas enclosed operator's cabin and climbed out on the catwalk until she was directly above the spreader. She grasped a cable with her gloved hands, and lowered herself to the top of the spreader.

Within fifteen seconds she located the remote operator's controls and then she secured her escape kit to the spreader with a locking carabiner so it wouldn't fall.

The first control moved the spreader away from the platform itself and out along the booms of the high-profile gantry crane that extended over the water. When the cargo container was extended along the outreach as far out over the water as she dared move it, she activated another control.

She considered herself a good judge of distance and height so she estimated she was nearly two hundred feet from the gantry and a hundred feet above the water's surface. She hastened her actions at the sounds of more sirens. There was a small window of opportunity to escape…and it was getting smaller.

The container slowly lowered her toward the water.

She removed her escape kit from its tether and unpacked the equipment—a small sea scooter. If she had to cross the Hudson River, she certainly wasn't going to swim. The sea scooter had enough charge to cross the river several times. And that was more than enough to pull her to safety.

She positioned herself behind a steel crossbar that spanned the length of the spreader and took aim at the shed with her rifle while the machine slowly lowered her toward the water. If Kaplan stuck his head around the corner of the shed again, she would not miss.

K
aplan noticed
the cargo container shuttle across the outreach arms of the gantry crane until it was almost to the end. Then it slowly descended toward the water below. Moss was right; Valkyrie was going to attempt to escape by water. If, and when, she went into the Hudson, she'd already have a good two hundred foot head start.

He was a good swimmer. By most standards he would even be considered a strong swimmer. Swimming across the Hudson from New Jersey to New York would be much shorter than the last swim he had taken. That one was a nine-mile swim he had to take a couple of years ago when the bullet-riddled boat he was in sank off the northern coast of Spain. Being a strong swimmer didn't automatically relate to being a fast swimmer, which he was not. Unless Valkyrie tired, he might not be able to catch her before she reached the opposite shoreline.

Kaplan needed to get closer to the water's edge and the only way to do that was by leaving the protection of the maintenance shed to seek cover behind the massive tires on the base of the gantry itself. A thirty-yard run, minimum. The opposite corner of the shed offered more protection from the crane structure in the event the woman started firing again. If he weaved when he ran toward the crane's base, she might not have a clear shot at him. At least, that was what he convinced himself. If he was going to do it, though, he needed to move now before the cargo container descended low enough for Valkyrie to jump into the water safely.

Without any further hesitation, Kaplan made a break for it and, as he did, gunfire erupted around him. Valkyrie was pelting the ground with bullets chasing his every step.

Thirty yards to go.

Seemed more like sixty by the time he finally reached the crane. He took refuge behind one of the gantry crane's enormous tires. Bullets pinged and ricocheted around him, but even her rounds weren't going to penetrate his sanctum.

It was dark at this end of the shipping terminal, there were no ships and no lights except the dim red maritime structure lights lining the entire length of the loading dock itself, placed there only to prevent an accidental incursion with the dock.

Every time Kaplan attempted to look around the tire, more bullets fired his way. He was pinned down until the assassin made her move to escape.

At last glance, the container was still thirty feet above the water and he knew she would wait until it got closer. Then he heard everything come to a complete stop. The container had stopped and was suspended ten feet above the water. Moving across the top of the spreader was the shadowy figure of a woman.

Kaplan moved into position to take a shot when the shadow figure raised her weapon. He left his cover and was in the open by the edge of the loading dock with nowhere to hide and nowhere to run. He knew she had him locked in the crosshairs. Exposed, he was a dead man.

A shot rang out before he could fire his weapon. It wasn't from Valkyrie. He turned in the direction of the shot and saw Moss forty feet to his right with his weapon pointed in Valkyrie's direction. He looked back at the container and saw the woman stumble forward. She reached her hand out toward something, the container creaked, and with a loud metal clunk, the spreader released the container.

The spreader swayed from the sudden loss of weight and the figure on top tumbled from her lofty perch toward the dirty river below.