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Chapter 3
“Okay D-Team,” Cap Rogers said as the quartet disembarked their Humvee in front of the convention center. “Me and Alpha Team will be on the inside of the main ballroom with the candidates. Bravo Team will be in the main concourse, where most of the civilians will be entering and leaving. You four will secure the loading dock and the back hallway, where the candidates enter from.”
“Yes, sir,” Sheila said. “Tank, you and Viper take the loading dock. Lone Star and I will handle the back hallway.”
“Why do I have to go with the big stupid one?” Viper asked, a sneer on his face.
“Because those are the orders and I am your commanding officer. That’s the way things work in this outfit, Viper. Do you understand me?” Sheila said, stepping over and getting almost chest to chest with the lanky man.
Viper smiled down at the shorter Sheila. “Yeah, that doesn’t really work for me. I think I’ll go inside and hang with you. Let the Mexican and the gorilla guard the dock.” He stepped forward to push past Sheila, but she grabbed his bicep.
Sheila pulled the taller man down to speak directly in his ear. “I have your kill switch, you piece of shit. You do what I tell you, when I tell you, or every piece of tech in your body stops working. Your arm, your leg, your lungs – I will shut every fucking one of the them down like throwing a light switch if you don’t shut your goddamn mouth and do your goddamn job. Do you understand me?”
Viper’s eyes went wide. “You bitch.”
“You better believe it.”
The skinny hacker straightened up and glared down at Sheila. “Fine. I’ll go to the loading dock and watch the dumpsters with the idiot. But if you wanted a chance to hook up with Latino Heat over there, you could have just asked me. I wouldn’t have fought you for it.”
“This is the point at which I’d slap you sideways if I had factory-issued arms. But as it is, I don’t feel like killing you just yet. So let’s just do this: I won’t crush your fucking face with my cybernetic fist, and you keep your mundane mouth shut. Now go do your fucking job.”
Viper turned and stalked past Tank toward the convention center entrance. He raised one fist over his head as he walked away, middle finger stabbing the air.
“Great leadership style, Birdie,” Rogers said.
“Go fuck yourself, Cap.”
“Remember who’s in charge of this mission, Raptor,” Rogers replied with a scowl.
“Sorry. Go fuck yourself, sir.” Sheila waved for Lone Star to follow her and walked into the building.
Thousands of people milled around the main concourse of the convention center, some waving signs for one candidate or the other, many wearing t-shirts or hats proclaiming their loyalty to one party or the other. Sheila and Guerrero pushed their way through the throng, dodging souvenir vendors and arguing political supporters.
“This shit is crazy,” Guerrero muttered under his breath. “All these dumbasses cheering for one idiot or another like it’s some kind of football game.”
“You know we can all hear you, right?” Sheila said.
“What?”
“Your comm is open, Lone Star,” Tank’s voice came over the headset each team member wore.
“Shit, I forgot,” Guerrero said, then reached up and pressed a button on the commset on his shoulder.
“Good one, rook,” Sheila said, clapping the stout man on the shoulder.
“I’m an idiot,” he replied.
“Yeah, but we all do it at least once. At least you didn’t leave your comm open when you were having…relations with a young cybernetics tech in the machine shop.”
“Who did that?” Guerrero asked.
“I wouldn’t be the one to say, but maybe you want to bring that up if Tank starts to give you a little too much crap about this little screwup.”
Lone Star gave her a little grin. “Thanks.”
“No problem. Now make sure you don’t do it again, or I’ll kick your ass.”
The pair made their way through the crowded ballroom to the back doors, guarded by a pair of beefy Secret Service agents. Sheila stepped up one of them and held out her hand. “Sergeant Hewson, TECH Ops. I think you were told to expect us?”
The big man looked her up and down. “They told us a bunch of soldiers were coming to provide backup, and that you guys carried special ordinance. You don’t look like any soldier I’ve ever seen.” He was big, with a shaved head, goatee, and a suit cut to hide the bulge of a pistol under his left arm. It didn’t quite do the job.
“You want to take me in the back and search me?” Sheila said, stepping in close to the man. When he took his eyes off her hands for a second, she reached down and grabbed his belt. Hefting the man off his feet without even a strain, she looked up at him and said “I look special enough now?” She dropped him to the floor and stepped back, deploying the razor-sharp talons from each fingertip with a metallic click.
“Whoa, soldier,” the other agent stepped forward, one hand on his partner’s shoulder and the other drifting under his own jacket. “Let’s all step back and remember we’re on the same team. Collins, they told us these were special troops. Looks like they’re more special than we knew. Sorry about Tom, he has some issues. I’m—“
“Jim Beam?” Lone Star said, and the other man laughed.
“No, I’m Reggie. Reggie Stark. But that’s good. If we had another agent named after a drink, I’d make damn sure they partnered with Tom. I’m in charge of the interior of the room. Alex Santos will be your contact for the back of house security.”
“Sheila Hewson. Call sign Raptor. This is Pablo Guerrero. He answers to Lone Star.”
“I’m from Oklahoma,” he grumbled.
“Could be worse,” Agent Collins said. “Whenever I’m on radio they call me Shirley Temple. I tell them they could use my real name and nobody would believe it, but this way they get in another laugh at my expense. You get used to it after the first five or six years.”
“You can go on back. Agent Santos should be in the hallway with her team, but she might be on the dock. She’ll have credentials for you,” Stark said, opening the door and waving them through.
“Thanks,” Sheila said. “Let’s have a good one.”
“Everybody goes home,” Stark said, holding out a fist.
Sheila and Pablo pounded fists with the man as they passed through the door into the back hallway of the convention center. “Everybody goes home,” Guerrero repeated.
The “back hallway” was a misnomer, actually encompassing a huge staging area with makeshift dressing tables, a table loaded down with snacks and beverages, and at least forty people wandering around, talking on cell phones, tapping on tablets, and yelling into walkie-talkies. The chaos was overwhelming for a second, then Sheila dialed in on the mission and got her head in the game.
“Lone Star, identify the entry points into this area, and determine how many agents are at each entrance. Then find a spot in the rafters or some other high ground to make a nest that will cover as many of those entries as possible. Arrange yourself so your blind spots are at one end or another, and I’ll position myself to help cover those.”
“Sounds good. You gonna hook up with this Santos fellow and get a sit rep from him?”
“That’s the plan. Keep your comm open, and your opinions about the candidates to yourself. The last thing we need is an accusation of favoritism.” Sheila pressed the button to activate her own commlink and turned away, walking toward a cluster of men who were obviously government agents, judging by the earpieces and cheap suits. Lone Star clicked on his own comm and strode off to the nearest door to evaluate the security.
Sheila approached the group of four men and one woman standing by the snack table reinforcing every stereotype about cops and doughnuts in the world. The lone woman looked up and gave her a smile as she approached.
“You must be the TECH Ops team. We’ve been expecting you. I’m Agent Santos. I’m in charge of the staging area.” The woman held out her hand, and Sheila gave it a firm shake.
“I’m sorry if I seem taken aback. I was told to look for Alex Santos,” Raptor said.
“They were messing with you. I’m Alex, but I usually go by Alexandra, or my first name, Agent.” She smiled again, and Sheila found herself liking this woman with the firm grip and dark eyes. She seemed to have it together, something Sheila admired in others, as she so seldom felt like she had anything together herself.
“Well, it’s good to meet you, Agent. I’m Sergeant Hewson, call sign Raptor. My partner is Corporal Guerrero. His call sign is Lone Star. He’ll probably tell you he’s from Oklahoma. Feel free to give him shit about that.”
“Will do,” Santos agreed, and there was that smile again. This woman was really pretty, in a rough-hewn kind of way. “We have agents at all six doors, and four men on the dock, but we could use another couple of bodies out there.”
“We’ve got two men on the way back there. Tank and Viper. Tank is our heavy weapons specialist, and Viper…well, Tank is a good guy.” Sheila felt her face flush a little, but she wasn’t ready to endorse Viper just yet. Not until she saw how he managed himself in the field. Not until he made it through today without Tank, or her, murdering the mouthy prick.
Santos laughed. “We’ve got a couple of those, too. Don’t worry. We’ve got the routes into the dock pretty well blocked off. There shouldn’t be anything coming in until long after we’re all gone, and my guys have searched everything that’s already back there. Today should be a walk in the park.”
“Let’s hope,” Sheila said.
“Fuck hope,” Santos said. “We’ve got something better. Preparation, and a lot of fucking guns.” Both women laughed as Raptor and Lone Star turned to start a lap around the perimeter.
