TWENTY

Pierce was watching the video for the second time. He didn’t want to like the kid but couldn’t shake off a degree of reluctant admiration for the kid’s nonchalance and cockiness.

First impressions. “Pierce whoever you are, better luck next time. That girlfriend of yours. Hot looking. Slow though. Might want to think about that.”

Pierce had reviewed that a couple of times too, the footage from the monitor of the Enforcer car the night before. The kid should have been running, but took a few seconds to deliver the shot, screening his face with his fingers, but leaving his grin obvious below them.

That had been the night before. This morning was different. The kid hadn’t known about a camera in place in the wheelchair. Hadn’t been screening his face.

First time Pierce had seen this footage, it had been live, with Holly behind him. But now he’d made operational calls for agents to swarm the inside of the building, agreeing that Holly should go help. She would arrange logistics with Enforcers since NI didn’t have to justify or explain any demands they made on local law.

So he was alone in the hotel suite to go over the footage again, watching for any small thing he had missed the first time. It had some grain to it because of the low lighting, and the fishbowl distortion of the wide-angle lens didn’t help either. It showed a long, narrow, nearly bare room. Razor—the name Melvin had called the Illegal—was holding himself in pain, face squeezed tight after taking a blow from Melvin’s bodyguard, someone named Jimmy. Flowers were scattered on the floor.

But even distorted, the footage would be enough for face recognition software to compensate, especially with a couple frames that showed Razor’s face from different angles. Only a matter of minutes had passed since the actual live footage, but agency techies were already working on it. If Razor was anywhere in the system, he would be identified within the hour.

“Hold him good,” Melvin now said on the screen, directing his thug. “I don’t trust him.”

Melvin couldn’t know, of course, that there was another danger. Directly above. First run-through, Pierce had flinched at the suddenness of what happened next. Even prepared this time, he blinked as a dark figure dropped without warning onto Jimmy’s shoulders. Somehow she’d been up on the ceiling.

Caitlyn.

A couple seconds of struggle, with Jimmy trying to slam Caitlyn against the wall without losing his hold on Razor. Then her mouth at the side of Jimmy’s head.

Pierce slowed the footage. Saw what he’d missed the first time that made the thug squeal. She was biting through his ear. Pierce grinned in admiration.

“Jimmy, Jimmy! Don’t let go of Razor!”

Jimmy was focused on the pain, though, and pulled Caitlyn off him like he was removing a shirt.

“Jimmy, close your eyes!”

Pierce stopped the footage. And stared at the frozen image of Razor pulling away from Jimmy. Pierce knew what was coming next. Another flashball. But how had Melvin guessed in the heat of the action?

Then Pierce understood. Melvin had seen the police footage the night before and had anticipated Razor’s flashbomb. Pierce made a note to himself not to underestimate Melvin’s intelligence.

Pierce advanced it superslow, watched as Razor reached into a sleeve and threw out a small round object that burst into supernova whiteness.

Another note to himself. Try to find out where Razor could get something this sophisticated. Not many Illegals—correct that—no Illegals had those kinds of resources.

“Outside!” Razor shouted.

Pierce watched closely, trying to confirm what he’d guessed as he watched the footage the first time. Yes. Melvin had swiped at her with a knife. Yes, he’d made contact. There was blood.

Then Caitlyn was out the door.

Jimmy still had Razor, by the bicep, with Razor throwing rabbit punches that had no effect. Melvin had moved in close to slash at Razor’s belly with the knife he’d used on Caitlyn.

She appeared again. Loomed in close to the wheelchair. And the footage went sideways as she spilled Melvin and flung the wheelchair over.

It was down to audio now, with only shoes showing in the frame.

“I’m a crip! You can’t do that.”

More blurry footage, the wheelchair spinning into the hallway. The spy cam was at an angle, enough to show only the doorway and Melvin’s useless legs partway in the hall. Audio picked up some drumlike pounding in the background.

“Jimmy! Jimmy!”

Slight pause.

“Tell Jimmy to drop him.” Caitlyn. “I’ve got nothing to lose here.”

“You won’t kill me.”

“Ask the man whose belly I put a knife in last night.”

Caitlyn had been forced to defend herself the night before. Wouldn’t hurt to have agents look into it.

“That was you?”

And Melvin knew about it. He’d make sure to interview Melvin later, find out more.

“Jimmy!” Melvin sounded like Caitlyn was throttling him. “Let him go!”

“Melvin?”

“Find me. Down here. Grab the girl!”

Then Razor and Caitlyn were back in the frame, Razor pushing Caitlyn out.

Razor shoved Melvin deeper into the room. There was a flash of Jimmy’s hands as the big man fell toward the hallway and Razor slammed the door. Followed by screams.

Pierce was using his computer to run the footage. With a few flicks of his keyboard, he zoomed in. Saw fingers protruding from the closed door. Winced.

“Can’t leave him like that.” On the screen, Razor popped open the door.

Fingers disappeared. Razor slammed it again. Slid the bolt in place.

Pierce stopped the footage again. He frowned. An outside bolt.

Pierce ran the footage to the end for the audio.

“Your arm,” Razor said.

The drumlike pounding. Pierce guessed it came from the outside door.

“Melvin’s men?” Razor asked.

“No,” Caitlyn said. “Suits. Like last night. Three of them.”

Pierce’s men. Outside, getting the video feed and responding.

“Crap. They’ve probably got the building surrounded. No place to run outside. And that will give them a trail to follow.”

But Pierce didn’t need a blood trail to finish this. They were in the building. He’d get them.

But Wilson’s strict orders had been DOA.

Not dead on arrival, but the agency term.

Dead or alive.