Gabe (In the Company of Snipers, #8)(104)

“Becker’s circled back around the block.” Ember’s very patient voice went out to all team members. “He’s parked on Virginia now, due north of the World War II Memorial.”

“Still in his car?” Mark’s disembodied question came back.

“Yes.”

“David? Any law enforcement in sight? FBI? Anyone?” Mark again.

“If they’re out here with us, they’re in ghost mode. I haven’t sighted anyone yet. Not even a vehicle which is unusual. My team and I are proceeding to the marina. ETA in twenty.”

Gabe watched the traffic cam feeds that caught David and his team’s steady progress. Two other cameras captured Becker’s sedan parked at the curb on Virginia Avenue. Still others tracked Mark’s approach. Rory drove.

No damned Metro PD or FBI vehicles in sight. Where the hell was everyone? How did the FBI and Metro not know the President would arrive at the World War II Memorial shortly? The usual gaggle of press vans and media vehicles were there. Why not the nation’s most lethal watchdogs?

It made no sense. They had to be undercover, not like that made Gabe feel any better. Was everyone walking into a trap? Sure as hell felt like it, but what else could this band of patriots do? Walk away from the President in his time of need?

Gabe grunted at his dismal thoughts. The TEAM might be a ragtag mix of soldiers, sailors, Marines, but none of them would turn their back on their country.

“Ember. Contact Metro PD and FBI again. I’d at least like their concurrence before we proceed,” Mark ordered, his voice tight.

“Copy that.” She turned in her seat to connect another line.

“Park here,” Mark instructed. “We go the rest of the way on foot.”

Rory eased the SUV alongside the curb, facing Becker’s parked a ways north on the street. Weapons were racked. Rounds chambered. Pistols returned to holsters.

Showdown.

With each passing second, Gabe’s conscience pricked. I should be there.

Vehicle doors opened and closed. Boots were now on the ground, his team fully engaged. The traffic cam caught sight of them en route to Becker’s sedan.

Damn it to hell! I should be there.


“Switching to video cam,” Mark muttered.

Damned time. Gabe leaned forward as the scene from Mark’s cam unfolded in jerky, boots on the ground transmission. These cameras were smaller than the normal helmet cams. They snapped to the side of a ball cap or the stem of dark glasses. Mark must have his TEAM cap on. He panned to the opposite side of the street, then to the black sedan. Similar feeds came from Izza, Taylor, and Rory.

For now, all agents had concealed their weapons beneath their jackets. The only thing that might give any of them away was The TEAM’s gold logo on the left chest of their jackets. Unfortunately, that was the only tell a Secret Service sniper needed to bring down anyone they deemed suspicious.

“Mark,” Ember said firmly. “Metro PD is unaware of any altercation in your vicinity. Said they’ll get back to me. FBI requests you stand down.”

“Not ’til they step up to the plate,” he shot back at her. “Tell them we’re out here doing their job for them.”

“I’ll tell them.” She relayed the message and blinked a few times in surprise. “Hmm. They hung up on me. Go figure.”

Shelby latched onto Gabe’s hand, whispering to him what he already knew. “You should be out there.”

No shit. He blocked her advice to focus on the video and audio feeds. With every step his friends took, Gabe’s heart rate increased. Like the good, dumb jarheads they were, they just kept pushing forward until he wanted to scream at them to STOP! Everything felt wrong.

Mark requested status, still on point and as calm as ever. “David?”

“Fallon just pulled the FBI van out of the marina. He’s headed your way. We’re on him.”

“Ember. Metro PD?”

“Nega—”

“Mark!” David called out. “FBI’s everywhere. They’re here. They’re—”

Gabe jumped to his feet. Shit! I knew it! A legion of FBI vehicles and FBI SWAT had come out of nowhere, surrounding David and his team.

“Ember!” Mark barked. “What’s happening?”

“David’s team is completely boxed in by three FBI vans. SWAT, too. They’ve got him on the ground. They’re cuffing him, Maverick and—everyone.”

Gabe watched helplessly while FBI SWAT manhandled his teammates and effectively took them out of the game.

“David and his guys lost their comm links, Mark,” Ember said quietly. “The FBI was there all along.”

“Shit,” Gabe bellowed. “Get the hell out of there. It’s a trap.”

“Not going to happen,” Mark replied grimly. “We finish this. Tonight.”

“They’re dragging them into vans. Wow, they’re awful rough. One of those FBI guys just punched Connor in the stomach,” Ember added in disbelief. “Mark, are you there?”

He blew out a deep breath. “Here. Damn it. What else?”

“Well, umm, umm,” Ember stuttered.

“Ember! Where’s Becker?”

“Coming straight to you,” Gabe answered for her, the tight grip of panic settling in at his throat. “He and his buddy are on foot. Right behind the tree on the sidewalk. Between you and the sedan. See them yet?”