“Pauly Chee,” she called out. “Drop your weapon. You, too, Levine. Hold your arms straight out, let them fall.”
“Nicole, stop it now,” Frank yelled at her. “Everyone, hold on. Don’t listen to Ms. McIvey. She’s unarmed. We’re all unarmed. Our pistols, they’re not loaded. This is a drill. Nobody needs to get hurt.”
“Now,” Nicole called out. “Weapons on the ground. I’m not saying it again.”
“She’s bluffing,” Sheffield said. “Don’t shoot the lady.”
With his pistol aimed into the shadows where the armband glowed, Pauly took a step, then another. The emergency flashers continued to count off the seconds in red.
Thorn angled in front of Pauly, put his back to the woman named Nicole, planted his left hand on Pauly’s chest.
Pauly looked down at the hand and swatted it away. Thorn stepped past him and into the path of Leslie’s gaze. Her eyes were unfocused, mouth open.
“Leslie, wake up. This isn’t what you’re about. Shooting people, no. This game is done. You tried, it was a noble cause, but it didn’t work. We have to stop this right here, right now.”
Behind him the woman fired a single shot, and a hot tug against Thorn’s left thigh spun him around. As he caught himself and regained his balance, two more shots flared in the darkness. Then two more. The clang of metal as the rounds punctured the SUV’s fender. All misses except for the first.
Thorn touched the edge of his thigh. A tear in his trousers, damp and warm, a numb patch spreading like melted wax toward his knee.
Sheffield’s agents had taken cover at the far side of their SUV.
Frank was on his feet, yelling at the shooter. “Nicole, goddamn it. Throw the weapon out. Throw it out here now.”
“You call that unarmed?” Pauly raised his pistol.
“Goddamn it, Nicole, throw down your gun.”
The woman stepped into the halo of light, pistol outstretched, hand steady. A step forward, then another.
“You’ve been bad.” Her voice was cool and vacant as if she were rehearsing a speech alone in a room, simply trying it out. “You’ve behaved badly for a long time, been dishonest and disreputable. You’ve brought shame and humiliation on yourselves and your cause. Now it’s judgment day.”
She was blond and slender, a delicate build, her mouth gritted into a hard smile that was devoid of emotion.
“Leslie,” Thorn said quietly. “You can do it. You can stop this.”
“No, she can’t,” Pauly said. “We’re too far down the road.”
As casually as one might snuff out a candle flame, Pauly squeezed off two rounds. The woman bucked as if jackhammered in the belly. Her shriek was short and faded to a moan as she sank to the ground.
Sheffield stared down at his shoes, shaking his head.
Beyond the glow of the headlights and the steady beat of the flashers, the darkness seemed to wobble. An unsteady flicker invaded the light. Thorn fought off the woozy spin, walked across the asphalt to Leslie’s side. The left leg was gimpy and uncertain, but it was still supporting him. No reason to explore the wound, see its extent. Not now.
He took hold of Leslie’s chin and lifted her face to the light. Her mouth was slack. She wouldn’t meet his eyes.
Pauly marched to the spot where the woman had fallen, stood for a moment looking down, then fired once more. He kicked at her body, then stooped and came up with a small automatic. He walked back to the four agents gathered in front of their vehicle, two with their arms raised above their heads, two others standing still, poised to make a move.
“Need more time on the shooting range.”
“She wasn’t FBI,” Sheffield said. “She was a goddamn civilian. She thought you guys were pacifists. Thought she could take you down with a single handgun. She wasn’t prepared for a shoot-out. She wasn’t a hero, a gunslinger, any of that. She was a fucking noncombatant.”
Pauly brushed the back of his hand at Frank. Yeah, whatever. “Any of the rest of you assholes unarmed?”
Pauly closed in on the four agents, holding his aim, ordering them to raise their hands, all of them.
“Do it,” Frank shouted.
After a moment, the two holdouts complied. Motioning with his pistol, Chee herded them into the blaze of headlights.
“Prince, get over here. Check their weapons.”
Cameron passed among the four agents, drew their pistols, inspected the magazines, the cylinders.
“He wasn’t lying. They’re unloaded. Just these laser thingies.”
“Pitch them in the water. Their cell phones, radios. Everything in the canal. And this gentleman’s handgun, too.” Pauly aimed his weapon at Frank.