Against the Clock Read Online Free PDF Page A

pointed it toward the third man as he stood momentarily stunned.
    Four seconds had passed since the first man gripped her shoulder. Two men were down, the gun in her hand pointed toward the third man. The crowd snapped free from their initial shock and started screaming and scrambling away. The third gunman seemed uncertain which path to take―to continue after her or to run.
    She gave him little choice and fired the silenced weapon at him quickly while running at full pace straight toward him.
    The first shot buried itself into his shoulder. The second shot found his collarbone, the third his biceps, the fourth his gluteus as he turned to run, and the fifth thumped into his shoulder blade.
    Shirin bounded after him, chasing him onto the street. His vision seemed impaired as he staggered forward, reaching out with his good arm, gun still gripped awkwardly in his ruined arm's hand. She was close enough to grab him.
    Whack! A speeding van passed by, missing Shirin by only a foot but smashing into him. His body flew forward, twisting and turning in the air. The sound of the impact reached her moments later, and then the screeching of tires braking on the road, and the broken body falling, landing twenty feet away on the pavement, completely still.
    Tucking the silenced pistol into the waistband of her jeans, Shirin ran toward the motionless agent, hoping her baggy shirt would conceal the shape of the bulky gun.
    He was dead. He would answer none of her questions now. In the distance, the chaos of the café galvanized into a morbid curiosity. She worked quickly to search him for any signs of identification or clues as to who he was, and who had sent him. There were none. Even his clothing labels had been removed. A professional. Although, judging by his momentary hesitation earlier, new to the field.
    Pocketing his gun, she peered into the massing crowd. She looked through them, searching faces, searching behaviors, looking for the telltale signs of other killers out there coming for her. There were more of them, she was sure.
    A big man loomed through the crowd, glanced at the two men dead at the café, then looked out, beyond the converging onlookers. It was then she saw his face. Their eyes connected from a distance. Trent Barratt. She recognized him instantly, turned her head, and left.
    Two hours after the ambush, she found herself staring at the empty coffee cup in her hand as the train pulled to a stop. She exited just as the doors were closing, her mind still focused on how they had managed to know where she would be, and when.
    Her mind worked quickly over the possibilities. There were not many. Somehow, they found her. Somehow, they followed her. The burning thought in her mind was, how long had they been following her?
    The arrival of Barratt also clung to her consciousness. She could never forget those eyes. Would never forget that man.
    Barratt was muscle, the kind of muscle that made people disappear, and he was good. In a past life, she had known him well. She wondered if he knew whom he was hunting.
    If they had sent him, it meant they wanted her gone. She had to believe they had not been watching her long. They wouldn't take the risk that she would spot them and run. Barratt didn't work that way. When he got the target, he worked quickly. Find them, track them, kill them. That was his way.
    Crossing the road to a taxi rank, she considered for a moment that they either knew what she was doing or were scared of what she might be doing…
    Letting them know that she was coming after them had always been part of the plan, just not so soon.
    She had to assume they had found her safe house and the files she had kept there. It pissed her off they'd gotten to her.
    She gave the taxi driver the address of a townhouse in the suburbs. She knew where they would be now. Time to hurt them.
     
    10:24:48
    Director Zelig sipped instinctively from the cup of coffee on his desk. It was cold. He couldn't remember the last time he'd