Gabe (In the Company of Snipers, #8)(107)

The impossible mission turned more hopeless when President Adams stepped onto a raised platform within the elliptical circle of the sacred monument. The summer crowd pressed around the edges of the inner pond, vying for a better view. Some had their shoes in hand, wading into the shallow water to see their President.

Sweat trickled down the sides of Gabe’s head at the sheer enormity of the challenge before him. God. I’m just one man. I can’t fail. Not this time. Not tonight.


Cameras flashed out of the corner of his eye. Applause sounded as the military band played Hail to the Chief. A roar went up when President Adams stepped to the podium, and damn it! Despite what damned well better be transparent bulletproof panels between him and the crowd, he’d just put himself in mortal danger.

It was happening. And if Adams was there, Winston had to be close by. Where?

Gabe strained his neck in all directions to see over the crowd, searching for the VP and his accompanying entourage of Secret Service. Wasn’t that what Mark suspected? The Vice President was the one in danger? Then where the hell was he?

“Look.” Shelby tugged Gabe’s right sleeve. The poor thing wasn’t tall enough. She couldn’t see over the crowd.

“What?” He didn’t mean to bark at her.

She pointed across his chest to his right. “Is that him? Is that guy by the wall over there him?”

He followed the break in the crowd to where Shelby pointed. And sure enough. Becker. The sonofabitch was cocky as sin to think he could get this close to the President.

Well, no more. It ends here.

“Keep up,” Gabe growled to his rag-tag pair of ladies, following Becker up the walk east of the monument. They might not be as rough and tough as the guys, but he was damned glad they were at his six. Glad for Shelby’s sharp eyes and Ember’s weapons experience. Maybe liberty and D.C. stood a chance after all.

They ran to keep up with their quarry, jostling through the crowd. Becker kept his right index finger pressed to his ear while he walked. The bugger was either relaying intel to Fallon, or who the hell cared anymore? Gabe honestly did not know which side the man was on anymore, and this late in the game, he didn’t care. Let him talk. He wouldn’t get far.

Gabe picked up the pace. Taking Becker down his number one priority. Then maybe he could get some answers.

Shelby all but ran beside him to keep up. Ember, too. He kicked it up a notch when Becker glanced over his shoulder at the President, now offering opening remarks over a booming PA system to the milling crowd. Becker hadn’t spotted Gabe and his team, all the motivation Gabe needed. The asshat knew something or he wouldn’t have been running away from the scene of the crime like he was.

Gabe left the ladies behind, and gave it all he had. He sprinted forward to intercept the sonofabitch. If nothing else, Becker would die along with everyone else on this god-awful night. He’d started it. He’d damned well see it through to the smoking bitter end.

Becker pivoted on one foot, and Gabe skidded to a stop. He’d been caught. He brought his pistol to bear on Becker with a curt, “Take one more step and I’ll shoot you where you stand.”

“Damn it, Cartwright. I don’t have time for this.” Becker rolled his eyes. “You might as well join me. Get up here.” He turned his back to Gabe and headed southwest despite the threat.

Gabe meant to shoot the arrogant jerk, FBI or not, but he didn’t shoot people in the back. He concealed his weapon inside his open jacket and followed.

“Why should I go with you?”

“Because you’d die to save the President. Come on. Your lady friends, too. Move it.”

He crossed the lawn south toward Independence Avenue, still speaking into his earpiece. “Roger. Ten minutes to Eagle Two. I should be done by then.”

“Eagle Two? You mean the Vice President?” Gabe growled.

Becker held his hand up for silence while he continued talking to that other person. Had to be Fallon, didn’t it? Gabe wasn’t so sure anymore. Chaos Now had targeted the VP. Right?

“That’s why we needed you and only you,” Becker continued. “Call when it’s done. Hope I’ll be around to answer my phone.”

Who the hell’s he speaking with, Goddamnit!

Becker pocketed his phone and broke into a jog. “Your call, Cartwright. Keep up or shoot me, but I’ve got someplace to be.”

Gabe nodded at Shelby and Ember to keep up with Becker. The farther from the Memorial, the lighter the foot traffic, but the more apprehensive Gabe became. He holstered his weapon, none of his questions answered. “Where are you going?”

“If we do this right, it won’t matter. No one will ever know. Maybe it’s a good thing you guys showed up after all.”

“Oh, no. Look.” Ember pointed to an FBI van parked at the curb on Independence Avenue. “There’s a van. It might be him.”

So that was the deal. Becker needed to move the van closer to the President. That was why the countdown. He’d been stalling, and Gabe had fallen for it.

Well, no sonofabitchin’ more.

He lunged, knocking Becker to the ground in a half-nelson hold, his arm caught under Becker’s armpit, his other hand pushing the assassin’s head into the ground. Gabe brought both fists together and interlocked his fingers. “Now I’ve got you.”