Will lowered his phone. Tina saw a look of concern and fear on his face, then she saw his arm shooting towards her. He violently grabbed her radio handset from her shoulder clip, almost before she could react. “Will, what th-”
“ALL UNITS ALL UNITS! WE HAVE AN ARMED CONFLICT AT THE MORGUE. ALL UNITS RESPOND. PROCEED WITH CAUTION. REPEAT! ALL UNITS, PLEASE RESPOND TO AN ARMED CONFLICT HAPPENING RIGHT NOW AT THE CITY MORGUE!!”
Will released TIna’s radio handset and began running towards his car. Tina blinked, and turned towards her car. She knew now that getting out of work on time tonight was going to be the least of her worries.
***
Mokoto’s teeth chattered in the cold evening air. She tried to keep them from their noisy protest, but the chattering wouldn’t stop. She needed to get a new jacket, or at the very least a sweatshirt. There was no way she’d be able to ride her motorcycle in just a sleeveless shirt and a torn skirt. She was really hoping that she remembered the way to Wal-Mart, and part of her thought she’d rather be cold all night. She felt a sudden vibration on her hip, and she pulled over. After taking off her helmet, she flipped open her Nokia.
“M-m-m-m-mokoto here.”
“Are you all right? It sounds like you’re cold.” The voice was familiar and altered.
“I had a bit of a situation and my jacket is toast, for real.”
“Ah. Any luck with our friends?” Mokoto didn’t respond initially. “So, that’s a no?”
“We’ve had some setbacks. J & J are checking one of our last leads.”
“Leads? I wouldn’t put it that way.”
“Well, when I can put it a way that makes you happy, I’ll call you back.” Mokoto closed the phone and then turned it off. She sat on her motorcycle a moment, pondering her next move. Her boss would not be happy if she didn’t get the data he wanted. The prospect of another big payday lingered in her mind, but the dream also clawed at her memory. She thought for a moment about this being the last time she took a job, and she remembered one her mentor’s words of advice from what seemed like a lifetime ago.
If you start thinking about getting out, it is time to get out.
***
Darlene was on the verge of hyperventilating. The sound of bullets hitting concrete and the deafening booms of Agent Iron-Horse’s pistol kept pounding in her ears. She had seen plenty of gunshot trauma, and had even heard a gun fired in her life. Suddenly, the gunfire stopped, and her frantic breathing was all she heard.
“Mister FBI” came a voice from the other room. “Maybe we can work out a deal.” Clayton was in a squatting position, leaning against a wall. He had about one clip left. He knew that talking might be his only option until help came.
“All right. I’m listening.”
“We just need to check a friend of ours for something of ours. Nothing you need to worry about.”
Clayton thought for a moment. Darlene was still shaking, and with the amount of lead they’d already pitched his way, he was assuming they had more bullets than he did. He took a deep breath. “If you’re looking for Gerrard’s body, you’re out of luck. He’s not here.”
Silence.
