Page 5 of Shadow of the Moon

Amberly blinked, keeping her breathing steady. She’d heard things like this before, and it rarely panned out. This was likely a wild goose chase, but he had sounded determined on the phone. “Okay. I’m ready.”

Amberly knew she had to wait for him to come up with the words himself. If she pushed him too hard, he would clam up and disappear. The fact that he was here now was amazing to her, because he had been the one to make contact.

Finally, he leaned toward her, over the table. “You remember Tango 11?”

Amberly’s blood chilled in her veins, but she made sure there was no reaction on her face. No civilian should know that tag. “Everyone in the department remembers him. It was one of the worst black eyes the CIA ever received.”

Necco cackled, nodding his head. The manic way he was reacting made her think he was high, and the pinprick pupils seemed to back up that assumption. Everything he told her would have to be suspect.

“And?” she prompted, leaning back in the seat.

“And, he’s mobilizing his paramilitary group,” Necco said. “There was a small detonation outside of Bozeman. He has a new recipe, and he’s sure it will work better than anything else he’s had before. And he has new partners. Once he refines it, he’s going somewhere east. 9-11 is next week, and he’s bragging that he’s going to make an even bigger impact than that.”

Amberly sighed. “Necco, the man lives in Montana. All worthwhile targets are east of him. You’re not telling me anything.”

Necco chopped a hand in the air. “You know what I mean. He’s always had it out for Washington. But he’s not going there directly. He has wild ideas, Temple, and I’m not taking part in it. Something is going to happen next week, probably on September eleventh, and I’m out.”

“Wild ideas like what?”

Necco blinked and glanced around. “I’ve done my time in prison, so I know what it’s like to be without my family. Cole wants to steal families. He’s looking at schools and churches, bridges, even a hospital. I ain’t into that. Those people are innocent.”

Amberly blinked, wondering if Necco had actually seen plans or what? “Is this written somewhere in black and white? Or are you guessing?”

He slid a blue envelope across the table to her. Amberly was surprised because she hadn’t seen an actual photo envelope for a long time. It had the name of a big box store on the front. She lifted the front flap to find a stack of grainy photos. Some were not too bad to read, others were almost useless.

“I was in a hurry,” Necco said defensively, obviously understanding her scowl. “Cole stepped out for moments and I had to get the pics as quick as I could. Your fancy tech guys should be able to figure some of it out.”

Amberly kept the photos in order, in case it made a difference. She stopped at one name that was actually legible. “William Taft Elementary.”

“It’s some random little school outside in Fort Collins, Colorado. I don’t know why he picked it.”

She straightened the pictures and put them back into the envelope. “Okay. And who are the new partners?”

Necco glanced around again, shaking his head. “I don’t know. He talks to one on the phone all the time. Whoever this person is, though, they’re ramping him up more than I’ve ever seen him ramped up before. It’s like this guy knows exactly what buttons to push. And he has contacts with the Russians. They helped him with some of the mechanics last time.”

Great. That’s just what they needed. Some faceless secondary character even harder to catch than Regent. “You haven’t seen the individual at all?”

Necco shook his head, which meant it probably wasn’t a local boy helping out his buddy Cole. It was someone further afield.

“I need you to…”

There was a click from above them, a very distinctive click, and they both froze. Necco’s eyes went wide, and he started to slide out from the table. Amberly almost told him to wait just a second, but he was already moving.

A bullet hole bloomed in the center of Necco’s forehead and he went down.

Amberly dove for the brick floor, even as someone opened fire on her. He had to be behind her, toward the front of the restaurant. She’d had a perfect view of the hole in Necco’s head. There was probably more than one attacker, though. It was how they usually worked.

She pulled her own weapon, then stuffed the photo envelope as far down her bra as she could. Scanning the area, she tried to see where the shooter was, then she lunged out from the alcove. A line of bullet holes appeared in front of her across the bricks, sending chips flying. Obviously, the shooter was using a silenced weapon. Crawling toward the back, she prayed she didn’t get hit in the ass.

What a great story that would be at the water cooler, she thought. Shot in the ass chasing down a wild hare.

There was a door to the back, but it seemed to be locked. Of course it did. And too sturdy to break through. She swung her weapon around, praying that the envelope of pictures stayed where she’d put it. Necco was dead now, so those pictures might be the only proof she had of anything.

The doorjamb to her right splintered and she ducked, then returned fire. Her weapon did not have a silencer, though, and the shots rang loud in the Chicago restaurant. She heard people scream out in the front of the building and she prayed she hadn’t struck an innocent bystander.

Then a line of blazing heat seared down her left arm, spinning her around. The pain was stunning and chilling, and it took everything she had to keep her weapon gripped in her other hand.

Something moved on the balcony across from her, so she aimed and fired. There was a huff of air, like someone had been hit, and the movement stopped. Amberly took that moment to get out of the restaurant, escaping with the other screaming patrons. Glancing around, she caught sight of two hostiles. They were obviously watching for her, because as soon as she hit the street, they began tracking her. Even from the other side, they felt too close, and she hurried down the sidewalk, trying to hide her bleeding arm.

It was going to be obvious in a minute, because she felt the blood running down her arm. She scrambled for her phone in her hip pocket. “Fuck,” she hissed, seeing the shattered screen. Useless. She shoved it back into her pocket, praying that it wasn’t as bad as it looked, then looked around.

The taller man was gone.

One of the most important traits to being in the CIA was keeping a sense of calm under pressure. Her calm was unraveling, though, as the noose tightened around her.

Should she stay on the street or duck away? Listening to her gut, she ducked into the next alley, jogging along the length and to the back. There were doors along the way, but she was sure they were locked. One was open and a guy stood outside smoking. Avoiding his look she passed on. Glancing behind, she looked for her followers, but she didn’t see them. Maybe they were tracking her street-side.

Then she heard two soft pffts of air, one right after another. A man slumped down from between two giant dumpsters, where he’d obviously been hiding, waiting for her. She looked up the height of the building, scanning for the shooter, trying to sort out in her mind who was trying to shoot her or what the hell was going on.

Her arm throbbed as she rounded a corner, bracing her back against it. If the shooter on the roof was after her, she doubted he could shoot straight down the wall. She needed an out, though. Just then, she heard the screech of one of the L lines rumbling by. Lurching into motion, she headed for the sound. Maybe she could lose them there.

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