Inhaling gas fumes, I release my seatbelt and help her do the same. As long as no one lights a cigarette, we should be fine.
A good Samaritan runs toward our vehicle but falls back when more shots are fired.
“Oh my God.” While my partner searches for her lost pistol, a man, holding an automatic rifle, trots in our direction. My heart races. One spark and we’re dead.
His phone rings and as he looks down, my babe finds her weapon. She aims through the crushed glass and fires. As he falls, I kick out the front window and pull us the fuck out before we explode.
Several people have pulled to the side of the road, one with a doctor’s bag. I point to the man Landy shot. “See to him. We’re fine.”
When he’s not looking, I steal his idling car and race away. I’ll deal with consequences later. Right now, I need to get to the Meadowlands.
I don’t dare stop along the way. For sure, by now, the police have issued a BOLO. Using the Buick’s built in Alexis, I make my way via local roads to the stadium, call my dad, then put the seat back, and rest.
When I open my eyes again, my father is sitting next to me in the stolen car. “It’s almost time, son.”
Shit. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner?”
He shakes his head. “A better question would be why didn’t you trust me to handle it?”
I love him and would die before I would let anything bad happen to him, so I keep it light. “Because you’re bloody old and probably would’ve mucked it up.”
“I was handling operations like this long before you were born.” He tousles my head, hugs me, and after handing me a comm unit, hops in his car.
He waves an arm out his window and I follow him to the horse race ticketing area. An off night, we drive past the hundreds of empty spaces. In the back, by the swamp, I greet my team, grab my weapon, and wait with my men in silence.
The moon’s halfway up the sky when a black Audi drives to the racetrack’s front entrance. If all goes well, we’ll exchange the cash for the flight recorder, and call it a night.
Billy, my sniper on the roof, hisses in my comm unit. “Heads up. Those boys are armed.”
Recalling Landy’s description, I ask, “Do you see any of them carrying an orange device?”
“Negative.”
A second vehicle pulls behind the Audi, men jump out, and they start shooting toward the swamp where me, Dad, and a team of five are parked. A shot zings near my head and as I drop to the tar, a shard of glass cuts my temple.
Scrambling for cover, a bullet lodges in the ground, inches from my head. There’s no way that round came from the parking lot.
My father confirms my fears. “They have someone high up in the stadium. Billy, can you take him out?”
“Negative. I can’t see him from here.”
I’m about to tell the team to bug out when yet another vehicle joins our party. The windows of the arriving Ford must be open because Landy’s voice sounds clearly across the empty lot. “Oh my God, this is the wrong place. I wanted the mall not the racetrack. I’m so sorry. Can you take me over there?”
Her driver mutters, the sedan circles back, and as its taillights disappear, I text her a warning.
Me: There’s a shooter high in the stadium. Get lost.
She sends me a thumbs up.
~Chapter 22~
Landy.
As I requested, my Uber driver leaves me off at the arena’s front entrance. After rereading Dash’s message, I crane my neck to the bright lights creating a halo around the oval rim. Whoever’s up there has a great vantage point for miles in every direction and will pick off our guys without breaking a sweat.
Hugging the door, I open Jarkon, and speak to the meme. “I need you to find a sniper hiding in the upper levels of MetLife Stadium.”
Seconds later, a video pops up. In it, an elevator door opens and a maintenance man in overalls exits, carrying a long toolbox.
