19
I WENT AROUND the SUV, walking sideways and sort of backward so I could watch my side of the woods. I was fighting to keep my eyes soft-focused, looking for movement only, shapes that were out of place. Edward’s hand found my back, and I knew without turning around that he was looking forward, probably with the FN P90 in one hand. The M4 was a two-handed gun. We eased into the woods like that with him forward, me watching our backs. The smell of pine was everywhere, the needles shifting under my jogging shoes. Movement across the road. I must have tensed, because Edward whispered, “What?”
“They’re coming.” They were black shapes in the trees. If they’d been willing to lose the long black cloaks they could have blended in better, but there was something about the way the cloth moved that wasn’t tree, or animal, but just out of place.
“How many?”
“Two.”
They were like those shapes you see from the corners of your eyes; if you looked directly at them, they wouldn’t be there, but looking obliquely they were always there, flitting through the trees as if the cloaks floated on their own. I got a flash of white from one of their masks, and that let me know that the next flash would be close enough for a target.
Edward whispered beside me, “See it.”
I breathed out, lower than a whisper, “Left.”
“Right,” and the word was less than a sound, as if he breathed it out. He moved a little away from me so his muzzle blast wouldn’t be too close to me, or mine to him.
I saw the white flash of mask just before they broke cover, and I fired. I knew I missed, because there was no hesitation in their speed. I aimed lower as my target got to the trees on their side of the road. Even with all the time in the world to make the shot, I still missed the main body mass. The blurring speed hesitated and he dived behind the SUV’s side, putting the engine block between us.
The other Harlequin was around the edge of the truck and coming for the trees. Edward shot again, but the figure never hesitated. “Missed,” he said.
I turned and got ahead of the figure. It was more luck than skill, but I took the shot. The figure went down and tumbled into the side of the ditch, so that all I could see was a dark pile of cloth almost lost in shadow.
“They’re too fast,” Edward said, as he went toward the fallen figure. I moved toward the SUV, tensed to fire at anything that peeked around the truck. Nothing moved. There wasn’t even a sense of movement. It hadn’t been a kill shot, I knew that. I stayed far enough away from the underside of the vehicle that someone under it couldn’t grab me. I kept the MP-5 snugged up against my shoulder, tensed and ready to shoot. I was inches away from rounding the last edge of the hood and having a clean visual when Edward fired behind me. It made me jump, and then he made a noise. I hurried the last few inches around the truck before I let myself look behind me. There was no one hiding behind the truck. I knew I’d hit him, but he wasn’t there.
I turned, muttering, “Shit,” under my breath. I couldn’t see over the top of the SUV. I rushed around the front of it, gun still at my shoulder. Edward was on the ground shooting up at the figure above him. I had time to register that he wasn’t shooting him in the chest, but the legs, and I knew why I had no body in the road. Vests. They were wearing bulletproof vests. Shit. But one thing I knew was that even if a bullet didn’t go through, it still hurt, so I aimed at the middle body mass, using the shots to force him back away from Edward. The shots staggered him, and then he was moving away from Edward, away from me into the trees, but he wasn’t moving in that blur of speed. He was fast, but not super-fast. He wasn’t much faster than human. Edward rolled onto his stomach and kept shooting. The Harlequin started using the trees for cover. He was hurt. Good.
I felt something behind me, and threw myself toward the ground before I’d finished turning around. I hit the ground harder than I wanted, but I was aiming up, and got one shot off before my eyes registered the masked figure in front of me. The shot went wild, and then he was simply gone, moving in that blur of speed that I’d seen at the hotel.
There were more shots from across the road and men yelling. The other police had joined the party. I turned onto my stomach and found the slight curve of the ditch blocking my view. I had to get to one knee before I could look into the trees and the shadows that were filling them up. There was nothing to shoot at; they were out of sight, but one was wounded. The question was, how hurt was he?
Edward was on his feet; I climbed up the other side of the ditch to stay by his side. He had his gun up and ready and was moving in that shuffling, bent-legged walk that most of the special forces and especially SWAT used. It was supposed to help you move well, but keep you as steady as possible for shooting. I’d never been trained, but I’d grown up in the woods, and hunting. I knew how to move in trees.