Politics of Blood (Gray Spear Society Book 8) (42 page)

As a result of all that training, Tawni was almost as deadly as Atalanta with a gun. The two women mowed down the enemy with relentless efficiency. The ground was littered with corpses before the Marines figured out where the bullets were coming from.

Atalanta took off before the enemy could organize a counter-attack. Tawni had a hard time keeping up with the taller, beefier woman as they sprinted through the woods. Tawni heard automatic gunfire behind her. The Marines were coming, and they were pissed.

Atalanta made a big circle and eventually returned to where she had started. Most of the soldiers were now dead or chasing shadows in the woods. The way ahead was clear.

Tawni was breathing hard. "Hold on," she gasped. "Give me a sec."

Atalanta gave her a disdainful look. "You're out of shape."

"I run every day."

"Run harder. Come on."

They walked into the open. They were still dressed like Marines, and with all the confusion, nobody paid attention to two extra soldiers. Tawni didn't know what Aaron was doing on the other side of the Transit Center, but he was certainly causing a big commotion.

She walked up to the command vehicle. The thick, steel hatch was closed, and when she pulled on the handle, she found it was locked.

"How rude."

"Open it," Atalanta said.

Tawni drew her sword from a scabbard hidden under her body armor. She wrapped her blade in black shadows. With three quick strokes, she cut out a big, triangular chunk of armor. The plate hit the ground with an impressive thud. The edges of the cut were as smooth as glass.

Bullets sprayed out of the hole. Atalanta and Tawni ducked and put their backs against the hull of the command vehicle.

Atalanta drew her own sword and breathed deeply. Her eyes narrowed. She abruptly dived through the hole. Tawni heard more gunshots and bullets bouncing from metal walls. The fight lasted just a few seconds.

"All clear," Atalanta said.

Tawni ducked cautiously through the hole. Three soldiers were inside the vehicle, and they were alive, but they weren't happy. Atalanta had cut off their hands and feet. Tawni wasn't an expert on rank insignia, but it looked like one man was a colonel, another was a major, and the third was a lieutenant. The floor was slick with blood.

"You OK?" Tawni said.

"Fine," Atalanta said. "They were firing 5.56 mm rounds. Those little bullets barely dented my hide."

Computer monitors and television screens lined the walls of the command vehicle. There were two workstations with keyboards. A driver could sit up front, but the seat was empty.

Atalanta crouched down beside the colonel. "We're looking for the man in charge. Is it you?"

His face was pale from either blood loss or terror. "I'm temporarily in command here."

"Temporarily?"

"The general..." He paused.

She raised her eyebrows. "What?"

He shook his head. "I won't talk."

"Yes, you will." Atalanta drew a knife.

"Let me, please," Tawni said. "I'll have him singing in thirty seconds."

"Be my guest." Atalanta stepped back.

Tawni stood over the colonel. She dragged the tip of her black sword across his belly, and the flesh split open. The meat inside was gray and dead, destroyed by her shadows. His eyes bulged and he bit his lip, but he didn't scream. His self-control impressed her. He was a good soldier.

"Maybe we should start with the junior officers and work our way up," she said.

She crouched over the lieutenant. He tried to get away, but it was hard without hands or feet. He only managed to bleed more.

She put her hand over his face and sent her shadows down his throat. His body contorted as he tried to breathe, but darkness clogged his lungs. He was forced to suffer in silence.

"That pain is death clawing at your guts," Tawni said. "I bet it hurts."

"Who are you?" the colonel said.

She looked at him. "Your general is on God's shit list. You work for the general, which pretty much puts you on the same list. Not a fun place to be. The Lord sent us to deal with all you fuckers."

She didn't want the lieutenant to suffocate, so she withdrew her shadows from his lungs. He gasped for air. She attacked his ears and eyes with darkness next. He screeched in agony.

"Too loud," Atalanta said urgently.

Tawni quickly pushed her shadows into the lieutenant's brain. He shuddered, sighed, and died.

"Your turn." She looked at the major. "And keep it quiet. You'll live a little longer."

"It's General Wordsworth!" he said. "He's the one you want!"

"Where is he?"

"I don't know. He left ten minutes ago. He took his A team with him."

She cocked her head. "What is an 'A' team?"

"His personal squad. Hardcore special ops. They would eat their own children if he ordered them to."

"But you have no idea where Wordsworth is?"

The major shook his head.

Tawni looked up at Atalanta.

Atalanta shrugged. "Keep working. We need to be sure they're telling the truth."

"OK." Tawni raised her hands, and shadows danced on her fingertips.

* * *

President Haley sighed with impatience. He was getting tired of waiting for Wordsworth to show his traitorous face.

Haley looked out the bulletproof windows of the sedan. More police officers, Secret Service agents, and even a few FBI agents had arrived. He estimated about forty men and women were in loose groups strung along the off-ramp. All were armed and most had vests. It was more than adequate protection, and Haley didn't understand why Neal had been so worried.

A small, green ball flew over the bushes, landed on the road, and rolled under another car.
What was that?
Haley wondered. Many more green balls followed quickly. They were being thrown by people hiding in the trees.

When they started to explode, Haley realized they were grenades.

Explosions on all sides rocked the sedan. Shrapnel pelted the windows like steel sleet. The armor withstood the attack, but Haley was still scared out of his mind. Other cars on the off-ramp were being shredded and burned. His "more than adequate protection" was dying in bunches.

Haley remembered his gray phone had an emergency beacon. He grabbed the phone and pressed the middle button until it chirped.

* * *

Aaron heard a series of distant explosions in rapid succession. It sounded like a major battle, but he didn't know who was fighting. There were no members of the Society in that direction.

His phone buzzed. He looked around and realized every member of the team was being called simultaneously.

Aaron put his phone against his ear. "What's wrong?"

"The President lit up his emergency beacon," Neal said. "He's about four hundred yards south-east of your position."

Ethel ran off at an impossible speed. She disappeared into the shadows between the trees.

"I can hear the fighting," Aaron said. "Did you order him to leave?"

"He's a stubborn man."

Aaron gritted his teeth. "We're on our way. Have Tawni and Atalanta meet us there." He hung up.

He led Boreas and the four Washington
legionnaires
in the direction Ethel had gone. They ran as fast as they could.

* * *

The bombardment finally stopped. All the cars on the ramp were wrecked, and corpses littered the ground. As far as Haley could tell, none of the police or federal agents had survived the ferocious assault. Even the Marines at the barricade were dead. It was a total massacre.

His sedan was still in one piece though. The hail of shrapnel had cracked and pitted the thick windows in hundreds of places, but nothing had penetrated. The Society knew how to build armored cars.

Nine men in green fatigues and body armor stepped out of the forest. One had two golden stars on each epaulet.
General Wordsworth,
Haley thought. The rest looked like ordinary Marines, but the chipped windows made it hard to see.

He locked the doors.

Wordsworth and his goons spread out with M16's in hand. They began to check the wreckage. They clearly intended to finish off any survivors.

Haley squished his body down into the foot well in an attempt to hide. His old joints complained at the rough treatment, but he ignored the discomfort. A moment later, a knock on the window startled him. He had already been discovered.

He looked up. A soldier wearing the insignia of a corporal tried to open the door. When that didn't work, he fired his gun at the window. The bullet ricocheted and nicked his leg. Haley had to smile despite the circumstances.

General Wordsworth came over. He was a tall, thin man with deeply tanned skin. A scar on his cheek disfigured his weathered face.

"President Haley," he yelled through the window, "I'm glad to see you're still alive. It means I can watch you die."

"This is treason!" Haley said.

"Once you're dead, there will be no witnesses left besides my A team, and they'll never talk. I'll blame terrorists for this horrible tragedy. Now get out of the car, or I'll blow the door off."

A woman ran out of the forest. She was old, black, and moving at a startling speed. She carried polished machetes at her sides like wings. Sticky shadows clung to her skin. The Angel of Death had arrived.

I love you,
Haley thought.

Facing nine well-armed soldiers didn't seem to bother Ethel. She was on them before they even realized she was there. Her whirling blades flashed and blood sprayed. In seconds, four were dead. At that moment, Haley understood what it meant to be a Spear.
We are truly the Lord's warriors.

The other soldiers shot at Ethel with their rifles. It didn't look like she was hit, but she was forced to cower behind a wrecked car. She was so fast, she seemed to flicker from location to location.

Eight more people emerged from the tree line. Haley recognized them as the other members of the Society even though some were dressed as soldiers. They raised their guns and slaughtered the rest of Wordsworth's gang with a storm of bullets. Only the general was left alive.

Instead of returning fire, he grabbed a grenade from his belt and pressed it against the window of the armored sedan. He held the pin with his free hand.

"Nobody move, or I'll kill the President!" he yelled.

"You'll die, too!" Aaron answered. It was hard to hear his voice through the thick windows.

"Better than the dishonor of standing trial."

A soft knocking startled Haley. He turned and saw Ethel crouched on the opposite side.

"Get out," she mouthed silently.

He slid over and unlocked the door.

"Aw, hell," Wordsworth said. "Why am I even having this conversation?"

He pulled the pin on the grenade.

Ethel opened the door and yanked Haley out of the car with all the strength in her slim body. She forced him down to the ground. He banged his nose on the hard pavement.

The grenade rocked the sedan. The body of the car deflected the blast around Haley, and he only felt a hot wind. He rolled onto his back.

Ethel kissed him on the lips.

"Thank you for saving my life," he said, "again. Is this the third or fourth time?"

"When we tell you to leave, do it." Her dark eyes flashed with anger. "I'm your boss now. Follow my orders!"

"Yes, ma'am," he said quickly. He silently swore he would obey her from now on.

He heard helicopters in the distance. He sat up and looked to the south. He recognized the aircraft as HMX-1 or Marine Helicopter Squadron One. The green-brown paint and white piping were distinctive. The elite squadron was stationed at Quantico and had probably come from there.

"My ride is here," he said. "Neal must've summoned them."

Haley looked around and discovered Ethel had vanished. He stood up. All the Spears were gone.

The aftermath of the battle remained though. The carnage was sickening. Perhaps as many as a hundred dead bodies were strewn along the off-ramp including civilians. The grenades had dismembered some of the victims. Cars were still on fire. Haley had never witnessed anything like it.
How am I going to explain this?
he wondered.
I can't tell people the truth.

He spotted George Seferis lying on the ground and ran over. The Director was riddled with shrapnel wounds. Haley crouched down and closed the dead man's eyes. Sadness and guilt overwhelmed Haley. He should've run away instead of stubbornly standing his ground, or not come at all. He should've followed orders. None of this had been necessary.

Tears splashed on the asphalt.

* * *

Aaron and Tawni were standing on the sidewalk outside the Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport. Arched, white roofs provided shade, but the cool weather made Aaron want sunlight instead. Traffic rumbled steadily along the road, and travelers flowed in and out of the terminal. This airport wasn't as big or as architecturally interesting as O'Hare Airport, but it was still an impressive operation.

Neal, Wesley, and his protection team had come to say goodbye to Aaron and Tawni. Ethel and Boreas were staying with the President for another week to make sure he was safe.

"It was good working with you," Neal said, "even for just one day. You certainly deserve your reputation as a great commander."

"Thanks." Aaron smiled. "I hope I didn't step on your toes. This is your territory, and I don't think I respected that enough."

"The mission was successful, and my people are safe. I can live with a bruised ego."

"I just wish we had captured one of the Corners for interrogation."

"All four Corners are dead," Neal said, "and that's what matters. But I'll keep my eyes open for trouble, just in case."

Atalanta stepped forward and spoke to Tawni, "Working with you was fun. You have a lot of talent." Atalanta wore a loose, gray sweat suit which left plenty of room for concealed weapons.

Tawni grinned. "Thanks, and you were an inspiration to me. I'll train twice as hard now. I have something to shoot for."

"I'll go to battle with you anytime."

"You'll get that chance soon," Wesley said.