Dangerous Mine
Chapter 20: Envy
Author's Note: I think this is the penultimate chapter. Crazy. Thanks so much for reading and coming along with me as this story unfolded!
-/-
"No!" Ezra cried, whirling on his heel as Hunter began to collapse, heart jumping into his throat. He crossed the distance between them in three quick steps, setting the gun aside as he knelt next to her. She was on her knees, body slumped against the wall, chest knuckled over. "Of all the stupid…"
"Seriously," she wheezed, eyes pressed shut, "You're pissed at me for this right now?"
"You shouldn't even have been here," he said, though in truth he was saying it more to himself than her. And it was true. He shouldn't have let her come.
"Well I am here and dear God, get these damned cuffs off me," she grit out from between her teeth. Ezra obliged, sliding the cuffs off slender wrists with a few deft motions of his shim. With a groan, Hunter brought her hands forward and let herself settle to the floor on her butt. She pressed her right hand to her side, over the wound. Blood welled in the spaces between her fingers before spilling over, slow, trickling waterfalls over each ridge in her hand.
"Let me see," Ezra implored. He peeled her hand away from her side. Right side of her belly, lower quadrant, a couple inches above her hip bone. As gently as he could manage he pulled her shoulders away from the wall, supporting the weight of her torso with his own. The fact that she let him didn't make him feel any better. "No exit wound," he told her.
"Well that's less than ideal."
He lowered her back to the wall. Her breath hitched and the muscles on her neck corded. The movement increased the blood flow momentarily and it sheeted over his hand. Hunter hissed and closed her eyes again momentarily.
"No more moving okay?" she said. She swallowed heavily, "moving sucks."
Ezra shrugged quickly out of his jacket, folding it into a square for a pressure bandage. Hunter batted at him with her left hand as he moved it toward her side. "No. Not your new coat," her voice held a small whine, her eyes glazed and unfocused.
"Oh for the love of… Hunter," Ezra gently grasped the hand pushing him away, thumb running over the back of it, "I do not care about the coat," he told her softly. When she stopped pushing against him, he released her, lifted her right hand from her side and pressed the fabric firmly over the wound before putting her hand back over the top and his on top of that. "Keep pressure on that."
"No shit."
"As for moving, it is unfortunate that getting you out of here is going to necessitate…." he trailed off at the shake of her head. "What?"
"Not we. You." Her chest rose and fell heavily with the effort of speaking. "You've got to go." Sweat marred a gray face, but her eyes were back in focus. Pain was like that. It would leave you woozy and out of it one minute, and bring terrible clarity the next.
Now it was Ezra's turn to shake his head. "Forget it. I'm not leaving you." Fear kept him rooted. And it wasn't fear of confronting Walker or his men. He'd be leaving her alone, bleeding, maybe worse. His stomach clenched. His heart clenched.
"You've got to catch him," she breathed. "Warn the others. Save Mary. Do that hero shit you and the others are so damn good at." She smiled thinly then. "He's only a few minutes ahead of you. You can catch him." The southerner shook his head again, tightly, even as the rational part of his brain told him she was right. But he didn't want to leave, didn't want her to be alone if….
"I'll be fine," she assured him with more confidence than she felt, squeezing his hand in her free one. "You're gonna get shot in the gut, this is the place to do it right? Your girlfriend has terrible aim." She shot him a small grin which almost immediately turned into a grimace.
"Seriously, the worst sense of humor," Ezra chided, but there was no force behind it.
"Yeah yeah, everyone's a critic." She rolled her eyes. "Ez he's gonna kill everyone. Go." She pushed weakly at his hand that pressed onto her wound. Grudgingly, he released it. He rocked forward onto his toes, sliding his hand around the back of Hunter's neck and pressed his forehead against hers. "I'll get help here as soon as I can," he promised. She gave him a shallow nod.
"You better." Pain had brought tears to her eyes, both physical and other. So she shut them, and leaned into Ezra. No matter the face she put on it, part of it felt like saying goodbye. And it was terrifying. But she swallowed it, because if he saw it he wouldn't leave. And he had to.
Still reluctant, Ezra rose, taking the gun with him. He broke out the glass of the window, reaching through to unlock the door. In the doorway he paused, torn. And then he was gone.
Ezra bolted for the table in the middle of the warehouse floor. His phone, which Walker had relieved him of, was still there and still no signal. Unfortunately, his keys were not. There was also a sat phone. It must have been what Walker had used to call Chris earlier. Sat phones weren't effected by cell jammers. His eyes moved to the stairs leading to the basement. Navarre tunnels it was then. But first, he dialed Chris's number.
-/-
The Governor was on stage, doing his best on camera rendition of a caring politician. He spoke passionately about his reverence for law enforcement, while throwing in the odd comment about necessary police policy reform. Chris shook his head slightly. It was a real talent, talking out of both sides of your mouth. He'd have been more amused, if it didn't feel like electricity was coursing through his body. They were almost out of time. Then his phone buzzed in his hand.
The number was now familiar, etched in Chris's brain. His lips thinned as he answered it. "No need to do a check in Walker, I'm going to….. Ezra?" Around him, five sets of eyes swiveled in his direction. "… He's going to do what?… How long?… Do you know where?… Yeah…. okay. And Ezra? Run fast." Chris slipped the phone back in his pocket.
"Walker's coming," he told the Team. "Ezra says he's probably a only a few minutes out. Getting us to resign was a misdirect. He don't care. Ezra says he's got men. Heavily armed. And they're coming from some sort of tunnel system."
"Just tell us where you want us pard," Vin said.
"Ezra's not sure where the tunnel comes up, but they'll likely have to funnel through the kitchens or that hallway." Chris pointed at the door leading back to the restrooms. "So let's be ready for them. Vin, get high." Larabee jerked his chin toward the mezzanine. Vin nodded and quickly crutched his way toward the elevator.
"Should we start evacuating?" Nathan asked. "Get the civilians clear?"
Chris shook his head grimly. "Ezra said there's explosives set in some of the cars in the parking lot. People get out there, they panic, try to leave. Can't risk it. Nathan go talk to the police working security. Let them know what's up. Quietly. And have them set a perimeter. Don't need some panicked socialite getting blown sky high in their Benz. Josiah, help Nathan start rounding up the guests. Get them together, as far back in the room and behind the bar as you can. And get them down." The medic and the profiler nodded and took off, Nathan heading for the doors, Josiah to the front of the room to start playing herding dog.
"JD," Chris pivoted to the Team's youngest member. "Get everyone out of the kitchens and back with the other guests." JD took off at a sprint toward the stainless steel swinging door to the back.
"Buck, you're with me." The lanky, mustached man nodded. He was always with Chris, always had been, and it wasn't about to change. Chris turned and marched sharply toward the stage. A low murmur had begun to rise up from the crowd, and the Governor had trailed off. The politician's personal security stepped between the slightly pudgy man on stage and the two federal agents approaching. The governor looked more peeved than concerned.
"What's the meaning of this?" the man demanded, leaning away from the podium, covering the mic with one hand.
"We have it on good authority that there's an imminent attack coming," Chris said plainly, ignoring the beefy man in a dark suit that stood before him.
The governor scoffed. "First I've heard of it. And besides gentlemen, we have ample security to handle…"
"All due respect sir," Chris cut him off. "You don't."
-/-
Ezra descended the stairs at the West end of the warehouse floor. He had Vanessa's confiscated gun at the ready, his senses keyed. He moved slowly, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dimmer light. Three steps. Five. Ten. The darkness swallowed him, the only illumination coming from above. The sweltering July air cooled the farther he went. He paused on the twelfth stair, digging his phone from his pocket. He switched on the device's flashlight and held it up next to his weapon. It wasn't much, but it was something. Ezra stepped down off the last stair onto a concrete floor mostly covered in packed dirt. Not three yards ahead of him, a section of wall was gone.
Walker hadn't been kidding. It was obvious by the marks on the now missing section of foundation that this warehouse building had not been part of the original Navarre tunnel system. This tunnel was narrow and smelled of newly turned earth and fuel. Gouges in the walls around him were obviously made by modern machines. He tread down it quickly, head on a swivel, cat's paws for feet. The newly excavated tunnel ran for some 20 yards, before it intersected with another.
Ezra paused at the T of the two tunnels. It wouldn't do to barge blindly forward, only to get his head blown off in the process. Carefully, he peered around the corner. The tunnel was eery pitch black. Ezra used his phone light to illuminate it as much as he could before rounding the corner. This tunnel was older, obviously one of the original Navarre tunnels, the walls smooth and slick from years of condensation. The air smelled stale, like moisture and mildew. The click of his heels on the hard pack reverberated against the walls. It made his skin crawl. Gun still raised, he set off. He couldn't manage much better than a jog in the dark, but he pushed it as much as he dared.
The tunnel curved, dipping in some spots before rising once again in others. At one point, Ezra was fairly certain he heard cars rushing overhead. He'd gone maybe a third of a mile when the tunnel split. He dropped out of his run there, shining his light down first the right branch, then the left. At first, neither gave a clear indication of which way to go, and with no reference points, Ezra was unsure which headed toward Mile High Station. So he paused, held his breath, waited.
To his left, the faint tap of hurried feet met his ears. Vanessa. She too, must have traversed the tunnels rather than fleeing in her vehicle. Ezra's lips pulled downward. You will know the pain of losing every member of your little adopted family, one by one…. Running would have been smart. But she wasn't interested in running. She wanted to ruin him, to destroy what he held most dear. His Team. His brothers. Briefly, his thoughts turned to blood and concrete, to Hunter who'd he abandoned. His chest twisted. No more. He was putting an end to it. He set down the left corridor of the tunnel, as fast as he dared.
-/-
They'd had even less time than Ezra or Chris had counted on. Not three minutes after Chris had set his men to task, the first fireball erupted outside the venue. A white Cadillac Escalade, parked close to the doors, vanished in a giant ball of flame. Someone screamed. People scattered. The Governor's security yanked him bodily off the stage. Chris, Buck and the others, drew their guns, all that had been hidden under suit coats. Everyone else's attention was drawn outward; they looked in. The police security was instantly occupied trying to corral the guests.
Two more explosions followed in quick succession. A blue BMW coupe in the other parking lot on the far side of the glass garage doors behind the bar. And another not far from the Escalade. Flames licked high in the air, though the giant rolling black cloud of smoke was obscured by the inky night. But Chris could taste it on his tongue, feel the acrid burn of smoke in his nose, even inside. And it wouldn't even draw help, not with fireworks booming in the sky and every neighborhood in Denver.
The guests that Josiah and Nathan had not yet managed to wrangle into a herd fled anew, in all directions. It was chaos, in the form of forty or fifty panicky civilians. Exactly, Chris suspected, what Walker had counted on. Then, the door into the back hallway burst open with a rapid spate of gunfire. Chris and Buck both dove for cover behind the stage. Three men emerged from the doorway, fanning out as they passed into the main hall. The man in front jerked once and fell to his knee as the sharp retort of a gun filled the air. Vin. Chris glanced up at the sharpshooter positioned on the mezzanine. He had his crutches set aside, belly down to take aim from beneath the wrought iron guard rail, like he might with his rifle instead of a handgun.
The other two raised their weapons, firing indiscriminately upwards towards Vin. The Texan flattened himself on the floor, pushing slightly back from the edge. The man he'd struck rose slowly to his feet, one hand reaching up to press on his chest where Vin's bullet had found its mark. Chris scowled. Body armor. Well that was just perfect. The three men advanced, keeping a steady barrage of bullets. Two guests fell. One cried out. One made no sound at all.
Stone faced, Chris rose from behind his cover long enough to fire twice. The man in the lead jerked as the bullet caught him in his exposed temple before collapsing bonelessly to the ground, dead on impact. The other bullet struck the second man in his armored shoulder. He whirled, firing toward the stage. Chris ducked. "Headshots!" he bellowed out over the tumultuous noise. "We gotta put 'em down!"
More gunfire erupted from the back, in the kitchens. Buck found Chris' eye. JD. He hadn't come out yet. Chris nodded, grim. He was aware, but pinned down as they were, no one was in a position to go help the youngest member of Team 7. Buck tensed, raising up out of his low crouch like a sprinter on blocks. "No!" Chris barked. Out of pure reflex, Buck stopped, but the anguish on his face was evident. "Can't help JD if you get yourself killed," the blonde leader told his friend. "We'll get to him," he assured. Lips thin, Buck nodded once, then turned his attention back to the men advancing on the floor.
-/-
JD wound his way through stainless steel tables and storage racks. He'd already sent three terrified servers and a dish washer running for the protection of Josiah, Nathan and the other police officers. The kitchen was little better than a maze, prep stations for meat, fish and poultry, bisecting two rows of gas cooktops. Then there were the sinks, ovens, areas for expediting and the refrigerators. The sound of explosions outside had made the staff hunker down. And Walker was coming, with men, according to Ezra. He found two line cooks cowering in a small space between a industrial stand mixer and a set of rolling metal tray racks. They flinched, clutching to each other when they saw him.
JD kept his eyes peeled past them and waved them up. "Get out of here, get behind the bar. There are people there to protect you. The two men stayed where they were for a long moment, staring at him wide eyed. "Well go!" JD exclaimed.
Hesitantly, they rose. The first edged past JD and then bolted. The second paused. "Sherry, our pastry chef and Karl, the chef de cuisine, are still in back," he told JD, eyes darting from the back of the room to the doors that led out.
JD nodded. "Thanks. Now go." The man was only too happy to oblige.
Off to his right and out of his line of sight, a door hinge squeaked as it was pushed open. Footsteps followed. JD forced himself to take a breath and listen, pushing the sound of his own hammering heart to the back of his consciousness as he strained to hear how many came through the door. Like Vin had taught him. Three set of feet. Not the worst odds, but not any he cared to play. He stooped, gun ready and moved with light, quick steps.
There was a gunshot, and a scream. JD flinched. Then footsteps were hurrying toward him. JD took what cover he could find, at least so his entire body wasn't out in the open. A middle aged man with a sagging belly came around the corner, a woman's arm looped over his neck. She limped, an ugly red stain growing on the back of her jean clad calf. When they saw JD the woman shrieked again. Before JD could open his mouth to say anything remotely reassuring, another man appeared in their wake, this one clad in black, carrying an automatic.
JD had always been quick on the draw, and this time was no different. He had his weapon up and aimed past the fleeing chefs before the scream could die from the woman's lips. He fired twice. The bullets found their mark, both center left on the man's chest. He jerked backward at the impact, throwing an arm out onto a nearby table to save himself from falling. The two chefs found more speed and sprinted away.
But the man didn't go down. The table and his arm stopped his descent, and he righted himself. JD's jaw clenched. Body armor. Great. The man shot JD a leering smile, bringing both hands to his weapon once again. "Shit," he muttered. Without another thought, JD leapt over the nearest prep station, his left hand grabbing the lip as his hip slid over the top, scattering bowls and cutting boards as he went. As he dropped to the other side, his grasp of the table edge flipped it with him, offering him a four and a half foot tall stainless steel shield. Unfortunately, as soon as he hit the ground, he saw a second man out of the corner of his eye. So JD let the momentum carry him into a roll and he got up running, firing blindly behind him to give himself some cover. Three against one. Again, not bad odds, if you were playing cards. This was a little different. And he hadn't even seen the third guy yet. Shit.
-/-
Back out on the main floor, Buck and Chris rose from cover together. Two of Walker's men swiveled in their direction. Chris fired, striking one near the top of his collar bone. Headshots were a bitch to hit while under fire and less than a second to aim. Buck fared no better, his shot flying just wide. Thankfully, however, their distraction had given Vin more than a second. And that was all the sharpshooter needed. Chris' thug dropped like a stone, Vin's bullet finding home between his eyes.
The police officers that had been handling security traded fire with the third man, who had made it more than halfway down the length of the forty foot bar. But they'd managed to stop him there. More gunfire erupted from the kitchen. Then the doors opened and a fourth shooter emerged, on the other side of the barn, with too much cover for Buck or Chris to get a clean shot. "Vin!" Chris yelled up, thrusting a finger at the man. Vin took aim. It was all it took. The man never even got the chance to fire before he was down. Chris glanced at Buck and nodded. "I'll cover you!" he yelled over the din. That was all the prompting Buck needed. He was off like a flash. Chris took aim at the two remaining men on the floor and fired.
Chris could see Josiah set out after Buck. And Nathan had come forward to add his aid. Chris's eyes swept back to the door to the hallway. Where was Walker? And with that, where was Mary? Walker hadn't joined the fray, which Chris knew meant nothing good. A quick appraisal of the situation told him Walker's men would go down, and quickly. Ezra had told him there were only six. Buck, JD and Josiah could handle the two remaining in back. He found Vin's gaze and jerked his chin toward the hall door. He was going after Walker.
-/-
Bullets pelted into the wall that JD had taken cover behind. He ejected one spent clip from his gun and slid home another. His first exchange with the two gunmen hadn't slowed them much. But when he'd retreated behind this wall he'd managed a shot that had creased one of their necks. They were more cautious after that, giving the younger man a bit more serious consideration. It gave JD at least a small measure of satisfaction. Though really, he was still outnumbered, and wildly outgunned. He drew a couple deep breaths, readying himself to come out from cover to fire again.
But before he could, shots rang out anew. And this time, it wasn't the rapid fire of Walker's goons automatics. On his right, on a flanking angle from Walker's two men, Buck and Josiah emerged. JD let out an excited cry, which Buck answered with a whoop of his own. JD rolled around his left shoulder on the wall, and took aim. Walker's men fired back, but they backpedaled as they did it. They had them whipped, now it was just a matter of time.
-/-
Chris trotted down the long hallway of Mile High station, the nose of his gun dipped just below vertical. He kept his icy gaze trained at the T in the corridor at the end of the hall. No sense getting too confident, lest Walker just be waiting to make a fashionably late entrance. He could hear the retort of gunfire on his left, the wall separating the hall from the kitchens enough to mute the noise, but not drown it completely. Weapons fire chased him from behind as well, but he couldn't concern himself with it. Vin, Buck and the others would have them well in hand, he trusted in that.
Chris flattened himself against the wall a few feet before the hallway T'ed. To the right were a few conference rooms, the restrooms and an emergency exit, all which Chris could see from his vantage point. And it was empty. Chris dared a look around the corner to his left. About thirty-five feet of hallway ended in a set of swinging double doors. The back entrance into the kitchens, easy access from the basement and the venues two walk in coolers. Just shy of the doors on the right, was a staircase. What other place would the entrance to a secret tunnel system be but down? So down it was. Chris trotted to the stairway, and then began his descent, quick and quiet. Walker would be down there, and with Walker? He'd find Mary.
-/-
Walker spun in a small circle, head cocked upward as he listened to the sound of gunfire. He had a handgun in his right hand, a firm grip on Mary's arm in his left, and the two spun with him. Before they'd entered the tunnels, Walker had resecured Mary's hands in front of her. She pulled hard against him, leaning as far as her bonds allowed, bare feet scrambling to find purchase, before his delighted dance yanked at her again. His face held a kind of glee.
"That is the sound of righteousness come home," he told her, "do you hear it?"
"That's the sound of all your men dying," Mary spat back.
He chuckled, a patronizing sound. He pulled her to face him, "such faith in the devil," he chided, "but not in that which might save you."
"Agent Larabee and the others will come," she tried to sound more confident than she felt. "They'll stop you. You really think you raid a fundraiser full of law enforcement with 6 men and win?"
"Of course not," he said, "but that was never the point." He pulled her toward one corner of the dimly lit room, where one of his men had dropped a large backpack. He unzipped the top while keeping the gun pointed at Mary and withdrew a brick of C4 explosives. She could see several others still in the bag. "The whole point was to send a message, to cleanse Denver and prepare it for a new order. The Governor? Your father in law? Agent Larabee and his Team? They all need to come to judgement before that can happen. My men are simply giving me the time to see it done." He placed the explosives along the basements south wall.
"You're going to kill them too," Mary said, her realization quickly turning to horror.
"They're martyrs for a greater cause," he answered. "They will be welcomed into heaven as heroes."
"Do they know that?" Mary asked.
"They know what they need to," Walker said calmly. He withdrew another brick of C4, shepherding Mary with a wave of his gun to the next wall. She complied begrudgingly. "Couldn't set these beforehand," he said, like it was a normal conversation. "They sweep the building with dogs before an event."
"Lucky you they didn't find the tunnel entrance," Mary grumbled. Of course, bomb dogs were trained to sniff out bombs, not newly excavated ancient tunnels. The tunnel came up from the ground where the west wall and foundation met. It was a small hole, maybe just better than two feet in diameter and just shy of that wide that had been easily obscured by a couple of wooden pallets and a few boxes. Hard to see even if you were looking for it, nearly impossible if you weren't.
As Walker set the next explosive, there came a noise from the direction of the tunnel mouth. Instantly, Walker straightened from his stoop, his arm snaking around May's neck and chest. He pulled her close to him, a shield, and lifted the gun. A familiar dark head emerged a few seconds later. Mary felt Walker's grip relax.
"What are you doing here?" he questioned. "I thought you'd still be lauding your triumph over Standish." He shrugged. "Or torturing Ms. Hunter."
Vanessa's lip curled in an ugly sneer as she glared at her partner. "He's slick," she said. "He got out of the handcuffs."
Mary felt the rumble of an irritated growl at her back. Walker's fingers tightened on her shoulder. "So you killed them?" His question left Mary cold as she waited for Vanessa's answer.
Vanessa's jaw worked. "He got my gun away from me," she admitted after a moment. "I didn't stick around after that."
This time, Mary didn't just feel Walker's growl, it was audible. "So you just left them, free to come here and maybe ruin everything we planned?" he barked.
"Hey," Vanessa snapped back, "I came here to warn you. I could have been in the wind. And it wasn't our plan, it's yours. You and your theatrics. I just wanted Standish. To make him pay for what he did to my family. If it was my plan we'd have just killed them all, one by one and not all those girls. And I wouldn't have left that bitch Hunter alive. So that's on you."
Walker shook his head, his tongue clucking disapprovingly. "That's always been your problem Vanessa. So much discontent to the advantages of others. So much hate for a woman that has the eye of a man you claim to want dead."
"I do want him dead," she seethed.
Walker ignored her. "And you're right. It is my plan. And my duty. You know what your sin is Vanessa?" The dark haired woman stiffened, her eyes growing wide.
"Envy."
Without so much as another breath, Walker raised his gun and fired. Mary jerked in his grasp and screamed. Vanessa hit the floor with a thud. The bullet had torn through her chest. She lay prone on the concrete floor, one leg folded awkwardly beneath her as blood grew in a pool around her. Blood trickled out of her mouth as she choked on it. Her chest shuddered, rose and fell twice. Then she was still, glassy, lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling.
-/-
The sound of a gunshot and a woman's scream sent Chris from a slow, measured step as he entered the basement, to a run. Mary's scream. He knew her voice, even in panic. Fear licked at him. made his blood feel like ice. He moved quickly from the stairway back toward the front of the building beneath the venue dance floor. He couldn't see far. Boxes of decorations, stacks of folding chairs and tables, new and used kitchen equipment and storage for event linens blocked his view from all but a few feet in front of him on all sides. But he knew the direction the scream had come from.
Overhead, Chris could hear the sharp retort of gunfire, though the sound itself had a muted quality. He had to be near the front of the building. He traded speed for stealth, slowing his steps as he neared where Mary's scream had emanated from. His keen gray blue eyes flicked sharply around him. Close. So close.
Had he had a clear shot when Walker and Mary finally came into view around a pallet of boxes labeled 'Christmas', Chris would have taken it. As it was, Mary obscured his view of the former Green Beret, who was crouched next to a bag, his shoulders half turned from the reporter, though his weapon remained trained on the middle of her back. It was unfortunate that Mary caught sight of him, her eyes growing wide and pleading. More unfortunate when she sucked in a breath.
With preternatural speed, Walker was erect, his left arm snaking around Mary's throat and chest as he fired three shots in Chris's general direction. The blonde Team leader pulled back, dropping low behind boxes of decorations that would offer him no real cover if Walker's bullet's were to find home. "Give it up Walker!" Chris called out, staying in a crouch as he crept to the left, hoping to stay out of sight so he could flank him.
"And why would I do that?" Walker shot back. Even as Chris moved, so did Walker, backing himself and Mary toward the wall. Cover, best as could be managed.
"Because if you just listen for a half second, you'd realize theres no gunfire anymore," Chris explained. "Your men are all dead or in custody."
"Or your men are," he shot back. He traded arms that held Mary, now his right hand that held his pistol also wrapped around the reporter. He fished in his pants pocket with his left.
"Somehow I doubt your men were only under orders to shoot mine." Chris peeked up from behind his cover. Still no shot. Mary was too close, the angle of his shot too dangerous. He was as likely to hit Mary as he was Walker. "They'll be headed this way in just a few minutes."
"If only they had more than those few minutes left." Walker still sounded confident. Arrogant. "Unfortunately for them," he pressed a button on the device he'd removed from his pants. There was a beep, then another, and another, in a cascading wave. "This building is about to be destroyed in about three." On each bundle of C4, a digital timer flared to life. "Goodbye Mr. Larabee," Walker said. "God's will be done."
-/-
Chapter 20
Okay, so if I didn't leave this here, this was going to be the longest chapter by far. So, break. Don't be mad! And as usual, if you want to drop a review I'd love to hear from you! Next chapter should be the last, just to finish this up and wrap up loose ends
