Don't Order Dog_ 1(172)

“Alright, hold your position and tell me exactly what they find in that bag.” Alex checked his watch and rubbed his eyes in frustration. Sixteen minutes. Sixteen minutes since his team had arrived. Sixteen minutes since their well-orchestrated operation had started. Sixteen minutes since everything had begun to completely fucking unravel. He swept the thought from his mind and waited for Agent Pearson to respond.

“Command, this is Pearson.”

“What have you got?”

“HAZMAT checked the duffel bag, sir. No weapons or explosives.”

“Then what’s in the bag?”

“Toys, sir.”

Alex shook his head in confusion. “Say again?”

“The bag has toys in it, sir. Boxes of some little weird-looking things called Brainy Buddies. They kind of look like stuffed animals.”

Alex leaned his head against the cold brick exterior of the saloon and took another deep breath. Was this really happening? Was it possible that everything he and his team were doing had somehow, once again, been anticipated? He scanned the stretch of old Route 66 in front of him, looking in the vacant storefronts for the hidden face he was certain was now watching him.

He spoke flatly into the radio. “Copy that, Pearson. Regroup with Team Two on the southwest corner of the target location.”

“Roger.”

Alex turned and reached his hand out to the agent leaning against the wall next to him. “Give me your weapon.” The agent gave him a fleeting look of surprise before silently handing him his assault rifle and pulling out his sidearm. Alex quickly checked the weapon before moving towards the entrance of the saloon.

“All teams, this is command. It’s safe to assume we’ve lost the element of surprise with this mission… if there ever was any to begin with. Maintain your positions and stay alert. I’m going into the target location.”

Alex paused outside the door and quickly rechecked his weapon. Christ, how long had it been since he’d actually been in a field mission? Too long he thought as he took a deep breath. He raised his rifle and kicked hard against the heavy wooden door. As the door swung open he took two quick steps inside before dropping low against the wall. From there, he slowly swept the room with his assault rifle as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. Around him, the saloon felt empty and still. Then, as he drew his gun towards the bar, something immediately caught his attention.

A lone woman sat at the bar.

Alex leveled his rifle on the woman and slowly stood. “Turn around!” he commanded loudly. The woman didn’t move.

“Federal agent! I said turn around!”

Again his demand was ignored. He raised his head from the sights of his assault rifle and looked closer. The woman’s upper body was sprawled forward on top of the counter, her head cradled in her folded arms as if she were sleeping. Even with her back to him, Alex recognized the woman’s slender build and long, copper-brown hair from the photos in his file. He stepped forward cautiously. “Miss Halston?” he asked, his tone less threatening. “Jeri Halston, are you okay?”

“Good afternoon, Agent Murstead,” the voice he’d heard earlier suddenly echoed cheerfully through the saloon. “I’m glad you could make it.”

Alex swept the bar with his weapon. “Show yourself!”

“I can’t,” the voice replied calmly. “I’m not in the room.”

Alex kept the rifle pinned to his shoulder and moved towards the voice. As he neared the body of Jeri Halston he suddenly paused. Resting on the counter in front of her were an open laptop computer and a small two-way radio. Alex immediately recognized the radio as one of the two that had been taken from his men.

“My apologies for borrowing this,” the voice crackled from the radio. “But I thought you and I should talk.”

Alex scanned the area once more before easing his grip on his rifle. “Alright,” he replied. “Let’s talk. Who am I speaking to?”

“Call me Shepherd,” the voice answered.

“Shepherd, huh?” Alex replied as he studied the laptop. He had no doubt the man he was speaking to was now watching him through the small video camera mounted to the top of the screen.

“You know, it’s funny,” he said, taking another step closer. “I was just reading up on another man who went by the name of Shepherd on my way out here. A rather impressive guy from what I can tell. His real name was Robert Shafer. He was a former agent of the National Security Agency… perhaps one of the most gifted cryptographers the NSA has ever seen. But of course, you couldn’t be Robert Shafer.”

“Why is that?” the voice asked earnestly.