Trouble, she thought, it's too early. She picked up.
"Director. Someone came after us at Nick's cabin. We need a clean up."
"Bodies?"
"Three. The cabin is toast. Literally."
"Are you all right?"
"Yes. Nick's scratched up some."
"Scratched up?"
"Here, he'll tell you."
Elizabeth heard Selena say something and Nick came on.
"Director, we need a clean up team."
"So Selena said. What happened?" She listened while Nick told her.
"Hold on," she said. She picked up her desk phone, spoke briefly to someone on the other end. Set the phone down.
"A team is on the way. It will take them two hours. Hide the bodies and weapons before anyone gets there."
"Already done."
Nick watched the embers rise, every one a fire waiting to happen. There'd been a freak rain the day before. The cabin was in a wide clearing. There was plenty of space around the flames and there was no breeze. It might be all right. In the distance he heard the first siren.
"Fire trucks and the Sheriff will be here soon."
"What will you tell them?" Harker's voice echoed over the satellite link.
"Propane leak. They'll buy that, the tank went up with the cabin."
"Any idea who they were? Any ID?"
"No. A cell phone, nothing else. There might be something on it."
"Get back here as soon as you can. Don't get arrested."
Elizabeth leaned back in her chair and thought about it. If someone had gone after Nick and Selena, they might go after the others. She called Ronnie Peete and told him what had happened. She called Lamont and Stephanie and told them Ronnie would pick them up.
The Project was the shadow hand of the President. No one was supposed to know who was on the team or where they lived. The Project was secret as far as the public was concerned, but it wasn't the public throwing grenades. Over the last few months too many people had found out about her group. She was getting the feeling that secret wasn't the operative word anymore.
Elizabeth sipped her coffee and looked at the picture of the Twin Towers she kept on her desk. Anytime she began to doubt why she was here, all she needed to do was look at that picture.
The day hadn't started well. She wondered what else it would bring.
CHAPTER THREE
Ronnie Peete and Lamont Cameron were on their way to pick up Stephanie. They rode in Ronnie's black Hummer,
"What do you figure?" Lamont said. He looked in the mirror on the door. A black Crown Vic tailed them a block behind.
"He was outside your building when I picked you up. It could be a cop or Feds. Could be the people who went for Nick. Harker said they used a grenade."
"Wouldn't be the first time. Nick's got bad karma or something about grenades."
"Karma? You going New Age on me?"
"Yeah, right." Lamont took out his pistol and pulled the slide partway back to check for a round. He rested it in his lap. "Nick's got to be pissed about the cabin."
Ronnie glanced in his mirror. The car was still there. Another black Ford entered the intersection ahead and turned toward them. The car behind sped up to close the gap.
"Here we go," Ronnie said.
"Think they're feds?"
Someone leaned out of the oncoming car as it neared and fired a machine pistol at them. The Hummer was fitted with bullet proof glass. The windshield starred with the rounds.
"Nope. Not feds."
Ronnie stepped hard on the emergency brake and cranked the steering left. The Hummer slid into a screeching 180 turn and slammed sideways into the other car and knocked it off to the side.
Ronnie released the brake, punched the accelerator down and headed straight for the second car. Lamont saw panic on the driver's face as the Hummer bore down on him. He tried to turn out of the way.
Ronnie's truck was modified with armor plating, a beefed up frame, a turbocharged engine and a lot of extra horses. A heavy black steel bumper and grill dominated the front. It hit the Ford like a 6000 pound hammer and bulldozed it over the curb. Ronnie kept the pedal down and pushed the car into a store front with a big plate glass window. The window disintegrated in an explosion of glass. Neatly dressed mannequins fell out onto the pavement.
A man scrambled out of the car. Ronnie rolled out of the Hummer and shot him, three quick rounds. Down the block, a woman started screaming.
Lamont got out and squatted down behind the Hummer a second before a large man came out of the car across the street firing an Uzi. The 9mm rounds rang against the steel plating on the Hummer. Lamont's first and second shots missed. The third and fourth shots didn't. The man dropped out of sight.
Ronnie fired. The driver fell forward over the wheel.
That fast, it was over. The echoes died away. Traffic was stopped at the intersections. Nothing moved on the block. Lamont saw a curtain flutter in an apartment window and swung toward it, pistol aimed in both hands. He saw a terrified woman step back out of sight.
Steam rose under the buckled hood of the car in the store front. The driver was dead, his head at an odd angle. The front seat passenger had a thick shard of plate glass from the store window sticking in his neck. An Uzi was clenched in his dead hand. The front of the car interior was wet and red with blood. The man Ronnie had killed lay sprawled on the sidewalk by the open car door.
"Let's check the other one," Lamont said.
They started across the street. No one moved by the second car. Ronnie saw gas underneath. He held out his arm and stopped Lamont. The gas tank exploded, ripping through the Ford.
Sirens were coming, lots of them. They went back to the Hummer. The right side was a mess. The rear quarter panel was crumpled and bent, the shiny black paint along the side marred and scratched, the front fender buckled in against the tire. The metalwork and windows were pocked with bullet holes.
"Messed up your ride," Lamont said.
Ronnie looked at his car and shook his head. "We'll need help with the cops. I'll call in."
CHAPTER FOUR
The team met in Harker's office. Nick and Selena had gotten in from California an hour before.
Stephanie Willits sat on the couch. She was the Project's computer guru, a hacker genius. Everything about computers was in her keeping. Stephanie had dark eyes and hair and a pleasant face people characterized as friendly. She usually had a ready smile. At the moment, the smile had gone missing.
Ronnie sat next to her. The story of the Navajo Nation was written on his face. He had square, solid features and dark brown eyes. His nose was large, Roman looking, a noble nose. His skin was light brown with an underlying reddish tint that got darker during the sunny months. He had on one of his favorite shirts, a gaudy panorama of big-finned Cadillacs full of joyous surfers cruising the Hawaiian sands.
A silver pen that had belonged to FDR lay on Harker's desk next to a picture of the Twin Towers on 9/11. She picked it up and twirled it in her fingers.
"No question this was a concerted attack," she said. "There were no IDs on the people who came after you, in California or here. But we found out who most of them were."
"How?" Selena asked.
She looked fresher than Nick, but not by much. Her face showed lines of fatigue, her violet eyes were bloodshot. She wore jeans and a blue sweatshirt and hadn't bothered with makeup. Her red-blonde hair was pulled back in a short ponytail held by a rubber band. She was letting it grow out.
A long way from when she first walked in here, Harker thought. She's changed. No more rich girl look.
"The three in California were ex military. Their prints were on file. We couldn't get prints from the one who burned up, but the others used to be with Langley."