Chapter 4 - Crosshairs on the Balcony
The sharp thip-thip of suppressed rounds shattered the humid night air, chewing heavy splinters of aged pine out of the doorframe inches from Miller’s head.
"Down! Get down!" Williams roared, lunging sideways and tackling Miller behind the structural brick pillar that supported the second-floor overhang.
Concrete dust and wood chips rained down over their shoulders as the unseen sniper adjusted his aim, walking the grouping closer to their hiding spot. Julian rolled swiftly into the recessed alcove of Room 14, scooping up the discarded black duffel bag with a desperate grunt before Clara could slam the heavy wooden door shut.
"Clara, open this damn door!" Julian yelled, throwing his shoulder against the panels.
Inside the room, Clara fumbled with the deadbolt, her breath coming in ragged, terrified gasps. The heavy brass lock clicked into place just as Julian slammed his weight against the wood, leaving him stranded on the exterior walkway with the two pinned agents.
"Williams, return fire, suppress that stairwell!" Miller ordered, drawing her service Glock from her tactical holster and checking the magazine slide in one lightning-fast motion.
"I can't get a clear shot," Williams yelled back, pressing his back flat against the rough brick wall. "The angle from the opposite wing is completely shielded by the roof overhang. Whoever's up there has military-grade optics and thermal imaging."
Miller didn't hesitate. She risked a glance around the edge of the pillar, scanning the opposite balcony. The shadowy figure in the trench coat had lowered the rifle and was now calmly stepping back into the stairwell darkness, vanishing as quickly as they had appeared.
Julian crouched behind a rusted ice machine near the stairs, clutching the heavy black duffel bag against his chest like a shield. Blood trickled from a shallow graze on his temple where Williams had kicked the gun away, but his eyes were sharp, calculating, and dangerously calm.
"You're fighting for a ghost, Miller!" Julian shouted across the open courtyard, his voice echoing off the motel's hollow aluminum siding. "Vance sold out your entire division three days ago. That file in the bag proves he's been laundering bribe money through the regional task force accounts!"
Miller gripped her service pistol tighter, her knuckles turning white. "Shut up, Julian! You're a convicted felon and a black-market broker. Nothing you say holds any weight in a court of law."
"A court?" Julian laughed bitterly, standing up slowly with his hands raised just enough to show he wasn't holding a weapon. "There won't be a court. Vance sent a cleanup crew the second your badge pinged off the interstate tower. We have about ninety seconds before local police arrive—and Vance's people control the dispatch logs."
Williams looked sideways at Miller, his face pale under the amber security lights. "Miller... he might be right. Look down at the parking lot."
May you like
Miller peered around the corner of the brick pillar. Pulling into the motel entrance with their lights off were two unmarked black SUVs, their heavy-duty bumpers gleaming ominously under the flickering neon sign.
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