Friendly Fire Read Online Free PDF Page A

should have been so obvious barreled at him.
    Hastings smiled, might have even chuckled a little. “I can’t exactly let you just walk away, can I? You already told me that you killed that man. Do you expect me to just look the other way?”
    Ethan’s heart slammed itself against his chest. “You’re arresting me for murder ?”
    Hastings cocked her head. Her eyes showed kindness that he hadn’t been expecting. “You know, Ethan, I’m just a cop. I’m not a lawyer and I’m not a priest. That means I’m not in the business of giving advice that people listen to. Having said that, I do have a word of advice in case you’re interested.”
    Ethan felt his shields come up. This was her opportunity to tell him to go to hell. He waited for it.
    â€œIf I were you,” she said, “I wouldn’t say anything to anyone on any subject until I was sitting across the table from my attorney.”
    â€œBut I don’t have an attorney.”
    â€œYou will,” Hastings said.
    * * *
    Oh-three-hundred missions—hostage rescues—presented infinite variations on thousands of variables, all of which posed their own unique dangers. Each of these were directly linked to the fact that people were unpredictable even in the best of times. Once they felt threatened, their unpredictability often rose to the level of frenzy, and frenzied people often did stupid things such as shooting at hostage rescuers in spite of the rescuers’ superior firepower and skills.
    As a hedge, Jonathan and his team stacked the odds in their favor through the use of advanced weaponry, body armor, high-tech surveillance techniques, and flawless marksmanship. One of their most effective force multipliers was their ability to function in the night as effectively as if it were midday, thanks to night vision technologies. The darkness more often than not disoriented their opposing forces—OpFor—making even talented fighters less effective.
    In an operation such as the one that was unfolding at the Sleeping Genie, darkness posed an even greater advantage—that of being invisible to the surrounding general public. Even though Jonathan’s team was working at the request of a member of Congress, they had no legal authority to perform any of the operations they undertook. By statute, it was illegal to discharge a firearm in this part of Prince William County, and if those shots killed or injured someone, then Jonathan would have committed a homicide, and it would be left to a jury to decide whether or not the crime was justified. But first the police would have to catch him.
    His team always wore gloves on an operation, but as a practical matter it was virtually impossible to eliminate all traces of fingerprints, and with DNA technology being what it was, he couldn’t rule out leaving behind a drop of blood or sweat. The good news was that a trace of such typical forensic indicators would lead nowhere. Neither Jonathan nor Boxers existed anywhere in the real world, thanks to efforts by highly placed friends in the government for whom he occasionally did work that for a number of reasons could not afford to be traced back to the officials who’d ordered it.
    Long-term survival in Jonathan’s world was all about managing the tiny details.
    Today, those details were all working against him. While a nine-year-old girl was in the grasp of kidnappers, every second of captivity was an opportunity for serious harm, but the smart call remained to await darkness and the advantages it brought. First, they needed to verify that they had the right place. Once that was done, they could set up surveillance—even deploy a small camera to watch what was going on—and from that develop a scoop-and-swoop plan that would mean the smallest amount of harm to the fewest number of people.
    As Boxers drove the rattletrap Ford back toward the Sleeping Genie, he said, “I don’t