~XIII~

From his vantage point behind the shrub hedge, Lee kept a watchful eye on his quarry.  Walters had stopped by the low, stone railing, one arm still securely around Carrie as his eyes searched the shadows. Lee ducked a little lower; the man was clearly looking for something . . . or someone. A partner, perhaps? That made sense. What other reason could a man obviously bent on flight have for hanging around?

The air was oddly still. Below, he could hear the relentless surge of the powerful river, above, the occasional cry of a night bird. Gritting his teeth, he absently patted his hip. He felt strangely naked, and he cursed himself again for not bringing a weapon this weekend.

He could remember a time when he'd always been armed. Of course, he'd been a field agent then - a different life. Now, firmly entrenched behind the administrative barricades, like Billy Melrose before him, he kept his gun safely locked in his desk. 

At least the territory was familiar, he thought with a sigh. That gave him some small advantage. He had walked this same path, paused at that exact spot with Amanda just . . . what . . . a few short hours ago? The night was much darker, he noted with consternation, the moon that had shone so brightly earlier now partially obscured by clouds.

He frowned slightly. How had Carrie ended up in the middle of this mess? She should have been in her hotel room with Joe, safely out of harm's way. And where the hell was the Agency? He said a silent prayer that Phillip had followed his orders. That surprising flicker of Amanda he'd glimpsed in the boy earlier was starting to make him extremely nervous.

The response shouldn't have taken this long. After all, his agents were supposed to already be watching Walters. He'd ordered alpha priority surveillance shortly after dinner. Around the same time the erstwhile professor had dropped out of sight, Lee thought grimly. Damn, the man must have known he was being followed. That would make him doubly desperate.

Leaning forward, Lee strained to hear the conversation, but he couldn't make anything out. Although, he really didn't need to, the pair's body language told it all; Carrie standing tense and straight as a board, Walters' foot tapping impatiently on the concrete walkway. Something was about to pop.

Taking a deep breath, Lee made his decision. Zipping up his jacket, he quickly turned up the collar, hunching down inside.  Not much camouflage, but it would have to do. With a little luck, Walters would be too distracted waiting for his meet to notice little details.

Stooping, he affected a limp as he slowly started towards the pair. Don't make eye contact, he reminded himself, fighting the urge to look up. Keep him feeling safe.

He was halfway to the railing when he heard it, the sharp popping sound just over his left shoulder. Instinctively, he dropped and rolled, even before the strident "Lee, look out!" reached his ears.  Startled by the shout, Walters straightened, stepping away from Carrie, the bullet meant for Lee catching him squarely in the right shoulder. Crying out, he lowered his gun arm, and Scarecrow reacted instinctively. Springing from the ground, he tackled Walters around the midsection, pushing him over the small stone fence. They rolled down the slight embankment, both struggling for Walters' gun as they headed for the river.

It was over as suddenly as it began, the distinct discharge of a weapon abruptly curtailing the scuffle. He could hear a commotion somewhere above him, more shots fired, a woman crying – Carrie, most likely – then the familiar voice he'd recognized a few minutes earlier calling to him from the top of the wall.

"You okay?"

He gave himself a cursory check as he rose. He didn't think he was hurt, but that was the thing about bullet wounds and adrenaline – sometimes you didn't feel a thing. No, he was okay. The gun they'd fought for had only fired once, and the shot had found another mark.

He looked up, his partner's face illuminated by the intermittent flashing of a blinking light. "Yeah, I'm fine," he stated tersely.  "You?" He knew the answer before he asked. Amanda looked coolly professional and positively vibrant.

"I'm fine, too," she assured him calmly. He watched her stance relax, her weapon falling harmlessly to her side. "The Agency backup arrived. They took out the shooter up here."

"Good," he grunted, grateful that she hadn't had to discharge her weapon. He looked at the inert form at his feet. "Looks like our pal Walters is out of commission, too."

"Wounded?" she inquired, her voice unruffled.

He knelt down, his practiced fingers searching for the carotid artery. "No," he answered curtly. "Dead."

TBC