Collateral Damage - Marc Cerasini [47]
Holman was about to bolt for the exit when he saw Dani Taylor on the floor. Her chair was broken, and she'd untangled herself from the ropes. Now she was struggling to rise.
"Wait... Take me with you," she pleaded.
"Come on, then," Brice yelled.
A woman lunged for Holman, and he shot her at point-blank range. Enraged howls greeted the move, but the mob retreated.
Brice grabbed Dani's hand. It was slippery with blood, but he managed to haul the girl to her feet. He pushed Dani behind him and nudged her toward the nearest exit.
"Wait," Dani gasped, snatching the shotgun from the dead man's grip. Brice was surprised when she waved the weapon at their captors, effectively covering his back.
"You know how to use that?" Brice called.
"I live on a farm. I can fire a shotgun," Dani replied.
Another woman took a swing at Brice with a rusty rake, and he shot her, too. Robes flapping, the dead woman spun backward, into the arms of her comrades.
Dani and Holman bolted through the door, into the harsh afternoon sun. They were on main street, where Holman hoped to board the church bus. But the vehicle had been tipped over on its side.
Cursing, he grabbed Dani's arm and they dashed down the dusty street.
"I want you to go that way," Brice said pointing. "Get to the woods beyond those mobile homes and you'll have a chance to get out."
Dani took a step forward. Brice gripped her arm.
"Take this," he cried, shoving his cell phone into the girl's pocket.
"What is it?"
"Intelligence," Holman cried. "Images, recordings. Give it to the FBI. Do you understand? The FBI. Don't trust anyone from CTU..."
"Huh?"
"CTU. The Counter Terrorist Unit. They've been compromised. Promise me you'll give that phone to the FBI and no one else."
The girl nodded, Brice noticed a chunk of blond hair had been yanked from her scalp. "The FBI, I got it," she said nervously.
Holman pushed her. "Go!" he commanded.
Dani took off in a run toward the line of mobile homes in the distance. Holman whirled to face the Community Center. Legs braced, he aimed at a pair of angry women and an old man who stumbled through the door.
He fired once, bringing down the man. Then Brice fled the scene, fumbling with a clip to reload.
Cries battered Holman's ears as an enraged mob streamed out of the Community Center. Someone fired a shot that whizzed over his head. They chased after him, and Holman swerved onto the road that led to the factory.
Good, you dumb bastards, he thought. Follow me and Dani will get away clean...
* * *
4:49:48 P.M. EDT
Joe On the Go
Newark, New Jersey
In the cool darkness of the brick-lined coffeehouse, Tony Almeida studied the woman across the table while he sipped his fourth espresso. Judith Foy fidgeted in her chair while she nursed her third iced tea.
The Deputy Director was wearing a navy-blue tracksuit, no-name sneakers, and a knockoff New York Yankees cap meant to hide the bandages on her head. Tony was no fashion guru, but he had grabbed what he thought was appropriate at a discount store on a shabby block of clothing and apparel shops in the Central Ward, while Judith Foy cowered in the hospital gown, inside the stall of a McDonald's restroom.
Securing clothing was their first priority after the escape, and Tony had handled that situation well and efficiently. He was having less success convincing the Deputy Director of the New York Division to turn over the intelligence she'd gathered to analysts at CTU Headquarters.
Every time he broached the subject, Agent Foy changed the topic of conversation. Now she peered across the table with an expression that bordered on admiration.
"You're quite resourceful, Agent Almeida. The way you whisked me out of the hospital... It was some of the quickest thinking I'd ever seen."
"Call me Tony," he said.
While she spoke, his gaze continued to scan the coffee shop. So far, the only other patrons were a pair of college coeds bemoaning their romantic life, and a man