KILLER ON THE LOOSE
Chapter 3: Nick Bracco
“Nothing
suspicious,” Nick answered Matt’s silent question.
“Can
you see him?”
“No,”
Nick said referring to Karl Saxon, the assassin they suspected was on the
bus. Saxon’s nickname was, The Ghost, so
the two agents kept a sharp eye on the vehicle as if he could evaporate at any
moment.
“I
don’t like it,” Matt said. “He must know
we’re following him. Why not make a
move?
After
more than a decade of partnering together, Nick’s mind was rummaging through
the same exact thought. “Maybe he’s
preparing to take a hostage and wants the bus to thin out first. Less people to control.”
“Yeah,”
Matt said, gripping the steering wheel with clenched fists. “But the longer we wait, the more time he has
to prepare for us.
The
thumping sound of a helicopter became too conspicuous and Matt stretched
forward over the dashboard. “Tell
Lincoln to get the chopper out of here.
I don’t want Saxon to spook. The
less hostages, the better.”
Nick
called Agent Jack Lincoln to instruct him bring the chopper to a higher
elevation, but continue his surveillance.
When Nick placed the phone back on his lap and looked through the
binoculars, he said, “As far as I can tell there’s only seven passengers left.”
They
were still on Pennsylvania Avenue, just before the White House and watched the
bus make a left turn to head back south where they had begun. At the first light the bus pulled over at a
stop and Matt crept toward the curb to double-park. Nick almost jumped from his seat when the car
behind them honked the horn. Matt opened
his window and waved his arm to encourage the driver to go around, but there
was already a line of cars too close for the driver to negotiate the turn.
Another
long honk.
Nick
could feet his temple pulsate with pressure.
He opened the car door.
“Hey,”
Matt said.
“I’ll
be right back,” Nick said, then jumped out and stomped over to the car behind
them. The driver was a young male with a
buzz cut and a gold earring pierced through his lower lip. Nick went over to his window and slammed his
FBI credentials up against the glass so hard he thought it might break.
The
guy’s eyes widened.
“Get
out of here!” Nick shouted.
The guy
jammed his gear into reverse and slowly rolled backward, causing the rest of
the cars behind him to do the same.
Meanwhile
Nick moved behind the SUV for protection and scrutinized each passenger as they
exited the bus, his fingertips lingering on the grip of his gun. There was a woman with two children. A businessman. A young kid with red headphones dangling
around his neck.
The bus
began to pull out into traffic and Nick hopped back into SUV. When he shut the door behind him, Matt said,
“There’s two left.”
Nick
scanned the interior of the bus with the binoculars. “This isn’t good. I’m getting backup.”
Matt
glanced down at the bus route displayed on his phone sitting on the
console. “There’s one stop left on the
route. Have Walt bring the crew to 14th
and Constitution.”
Nick
made the call, then returned his attention to the bus, examining the pedestrian
traffic to assess the risk involved with the imminent confrontation. His head began to pound as he withdrew his
pistol and examined his chamber with a quick slide out and snap back into
place.
“You
getting ready for a shootout?” Matt asked.
“Maybe.”
“Well
don’t, you’re scaring me.”
“What,
you think I’m trigger happy?” Nick asked putting the binoculars to his
eyes.
“No I
think you’re target challenged.”
“Very
funny.”
“I’m
serious.”
“I miss
a target by three inches and right away I’m target challenged.”
Matt
looked over at him. “You were twenty
feet away when I had—”
“Stop,”
Nick said, squinting through his binoculars now. “Something’s happening.”
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