Page 81 of Until the End

Turning around, Bravo caught sight of a short, stocky man with a head shaped like a hammer, blunt and angular. He’d recognize him anywhere. Randall Wheeler.

In this business and with their select skill set, being one of the best at snapping necks, renditions, torture—a real meat-eater—people’s paths tended to intersect again and again. Whether it was while collecting a government check or working freelance. Only a matter of when and where.

It was good to spot someone you knew first. Otherwise, you might catch a round in the brain stem.

A miracle that Bravo didn’t know any of the guys on his own current team, but of course that also meant he now had more people to worry about running into in the future.

Bravo took out his burner phone from the pocket of the khaki Dockers he’d changed into and dialed.

The line rang and then it was answered.

“You’re breaking protocol,” the cold voice on the other end said. “You’re never to call me here.”

“It’s an emergency,” Bravo said.

“Where are you?”

“Cambridge. MIT.”

“You were told to stay put and await further instructions,” the voice snapped.

“I saw an opportunity and took it. Good thing I did. We have a problem. I’m staring at Randall Wheeler. He works on the black side of Zanteon and he’s after our target as well. But I think I know who hired him. And how to fix this.”

* * *

“How bad is it?” Castle asked Alistair. “Where are you hit?”

A hysterical laugh riding an exhale came out of Alistair. “In the bloody ass.” He walked at a hurried pace through the courtyard, his limp barely perceptible to the untrained eye. But Castle knew the agony Alistair was in, the effort it took to mask how badly he was injured.

“How on earth is that funny?” Kit asked.

It wasn’t, but the response wasn’t atypical among operators working in the thick of it. Laugh through the pain rather than cry.

“Better than getting shot in the kidney.” Alistair winked. “But come on, I’m the one using nonlethal force and it comes back to bite me, quite literally, in my arse?” More psychotic laughter. “I’d say that’s worth a chuckle. Wouldn’t you?”

Castle noticed activity in the parking lot ahead. Two parked police cruisers. A couple of cops spoke to passing students. The rest talked on walkie-talkies.

“Officers!” Castle called to the police. “We heard shots fired back there.” He pointed in the direction of the auditorium. “Two men armed. I think one or two people may have been killed.”

The officers drew their guns from the holsters on their hips and ran in the direction that he’d indicated.

Castle glanced over his shoulder. The auditorium door slammed open behind them. Two Zanteon contractors ran outside with their guns at the ready, only to encounter the police.

“Freeze!” one of the officers said. “Drop your weapons and put your hands in the air.”

The two from Zanteon were red-faced, chests heaving, and looked pissed but had no choice other than to halt. After lowering their guns as instructed, they raised their palms. Officers put them on their knees and cuffed them.

One less thing to worry about. For now.

On the way to Castle’s car, parked in a lot by the alumni fitness center, Alistair’s limp worsened. Red seeped through his jeans, and each step took a heavy toll on him.

He wasn’t trailing blood yet, but he would be soon.

Kit reacted with good instincts. She handed Castle the box and threw Alistair’s arm around her shoulder, letting him lean on her and alleviating some of the strain.

If Castle had done it, they would’ve stood out, making Alistair’s injury more apparent. With Kit, the two of them looked like a couple, strolling affectionately.

They finally reached the Hummer. Castle helped Alistair in and grabbed the med kit. His buddy grunted as he eased into the back seat and rested on his uninjured side.