Lyn

Destroying biologicals often leaves a bigger trace than the biologicals themselves. Bleach not only smells, but it floresces much more easily than blood does. So, why use bleach when you can use general purpose cleaner that, while it won't completely get rid of the blood, it will destroy enough to make DNA evidence useless.

Everything had to be scrubbed down. Everything I touched. Crime scene techs had no lives. They'd dust the dust in this place if they had too.

I took the apart the containment chamber containing the baccilus inermis and stuffed it all into a larger trash bag.I needed to get rid of the finger prints on the gloves, tape, and bag but didn't know how to do it quickly.

I put on my Bluetooth and dialed Trev's burn phone, "Trev, we got a problem."

"I assume you mean other than me being a wanted fugitive of the most powerful country in the world and Australia for poaching, which I did not do. Unless Albino's are now considered endangered."

"At least you didn't blowup a beer factory."

"Oh, I did that too."

"Whatever, my cover's blown. They pulled some sort of trace from some of the explosive left behind."

"Crap. Did they get you're prints?"

"No. I'm scrubbing down the place now. Where's you're rendezvous?"

"We'll have to use code."

"Ah, come on!"

"Do it."

I looked around to make sure no one heard, and said, "nuqDaq 'oH qep Daq?"

" jIH DIchDaq taH nIH pa' Daq cha'maH."

I silently cursed both whatever geek had programmed me to speak Klingon, and Trev's childhood friend, who dared teach that psycho the same. "Free Willie" as he called him, shall die by my hand.

I continued my scrubbing.

I did a cursory check of the front lobby before heading to the counter. Seven people were in the lobby. Three were behind the desk. White shirts, red coats and ties. One in the same style dress was at the door. One man, middle age with a paunch and balding head, at the computers. Soft knuckles and chubby fingers indicate no threat. A husband and wife were checking in. the man was tall pale, as was the wife. Hawaiian shirt, bermuda shorts, flip-flops. Wrinkles around the elbows show inactivity. No threat.

I stepped out into the lobby and made my way for the front desk, keeping the front door in my field of vision. I smiled at the clerk, "Hi, I'd like to sign out. Villa suite 4?" I handed him the card key.

"Are you sure miss?" the clerk said. To be fair, he at least put a little effort into the standard response.

"Yes, please," I said. In the corner of my vision, I saw the door open.

Shit.

"Miss?" I snapped back to the clerk, acutely aware of the newcomers in the hotel, "You're credit card?"

"Oh, right," I frantically dug in my purse for it. Christ, since when have I acquired so much crap in here. I had to pull out a few things before I go my wallet and handed her one of the impressive black cards that Trev gave me. My hands trembled a bit as I kept track of the newcomers, acutely aware of the gun in my purse.

My hands trembled as I held them at my sides. My heart thundered. I mentally flexed the muscles I'd need to take down one of them, or draw my gun. Whichever was needed.

"There you go miss, and thank you for staying at the Sunburst," the clerk handed me back my card. I smiled and turned on my heel. I chose a fast pace to the door.

"Hey!"

That word gave me a heart attack. I sped up my pace to the door. I heard him protest.

He grabbed my arm. I tensed, ready to fight.

"You forgot this," the cuban cop said as he handed me my phone. I left it at the front desk.

"Oh," I felt almost painful relief. I smiled and took back my phone, "Thank you, officer."

"Haven't seen that model. New?"

"Custom," I said, "Nothing but the best."

"Alright, have a good day, ma'am."

"You too, officer-"

Suddenly, a hailstorm of bullets opened up.

Delko ducked as the staccato of bullets zipped over his head. It always seemed like the world was put on fast forward and he could barely keep up when the bullets started flying.

He saw two males, early twenties, gang tattoos, other side of street. About forty-fifty feet away. He drew his weapon. His heart hammered. A drop of sweat dripped down his neck.

He fired. Once. Twice. Thrice.

One of the shooters jerked three times as the bullets slammed into him. The second shooter leveled his weapon at Delko.

The second shooter doubled over as if he were hit in the gut.

For once, his eyes were fast enough to see everything.

Blue sedan. Parked, hundred feet away. Almost the same distance from the shooters as Delko was. And the flash. The flash that illuminated everything.

Hard, bright green eyes that almost glowed in the muzzle flash. A face that was ordinary, neither handsome now ugly. But frightfully forgettable. And the look of pure concentration, as if the world did not exist but for this one shot...

The face of Mike Pierce.

In one instant, his eyes met Delko's.

He could see the curse form on Pierce's lips as he turned and started the car.

Delko raised his weapon. He had one shot...

Bang!