Page 19 of Witness Security Breach

A silent, single tap on his shoulder told him his team had formed up and they were ready to move.

They backed away from the SUV toward the vans, quickly but steadily, sure-footedly, out of the protection of the smoke.

A random passing police cruiser switched on flashing red and blue lights. Whipped around and stopped.

Without a word, Devlin’s team changed their formation. They went from a horizontal line, trained only on the marshals, and shifted back-to-back, moving in a circle as one efficient unit. All the threats were covered before the patrol officer even left the car. It was second nature to them.

One of his guys popped more smoke toward the police car to cover their retreat.

“Freeze!” the cop said, crouched behind the door, his sidearm drawn.

The marshals hung back, using the cover of the SUV, but the smoke still put them at a huge disadvantage, clouding their field of view.

“Stop! Release the hostages,” the officer said. “Lower your weapons and put your hands in the air!”

Devlin saw where this was going. Instinctively, he knew his guys did, as well. This wasn’t their first rodeo.

“Stop!” the cop yelled again. “Or I’ll shoot.”

Unlike the marshals—highly trained, tactically skilled and wise enough to use a bulletproof vehicle for cover—the patrol officer was going to make a bad judgment call and would indeed shoot.

So one of his guys fired first.

A single bullet blew out the cruiser window and took the cop out of the game.

They reached the vans that they’d left running and peeled off into two groups. Devlin opened the sliding door and backed into the bed of the lead van with The Package while Tate did the same at the other van with the wife.

Nothing like a solid day’s work to energize Devlin. A mission like this always got the blood flowing.

The vans sped off, heading to the theme park. It was a twenty-minute drive or less from most parts of the city, making it a good spot to pinpoint in advance. From this part of town, it was less than fifteen minutes. They’d dump the vans and have their pick of vehicles to choose from, and it wouldn’t be reported stolen for hours.

Devlin lowered to a knee beside Edgar. “You’re going to die. Slowly. Painfully. There’s nothing you can do about that.”

“Please, no, no. Please.”

He hated it when they begged. It never changed anything. Why not die with a little dignity?

“What you do have control over,” Devlin said, “is whether or not you have to watch your wife get tortured first.”

“Oh, God! She didn’t do anything. She doesn’t know anything.”

“Like I said. Her fate is in your hands.”

“What do you want?”

“Big Bill is under the impression you have incriminating evidence on him and his associates that you didn’t turn over to the Department of Justice.”

“Yes.” The Package nodded emphatically. “Yes, on a flash drive. I protected Big Bill. I didn’t rat him out. Please, don’t hurt Sharon.”

“Bill wants it.” More like needed it. The noose was tightening around Bill’s throat. It was the only thing that could save him from Enzo and the others. Maybe Devlin would sell it for double to the competition. It was the golden ticket. “Where is the drive?”

“If I tell you where it is, do you promise not to hurt Sharon?”

“How about this? I promise that if you don’t tell me, I guaran-damn-tee I will kill her. Where is it?”

“I don’t have it.” The Package lowered his head and wept like a baby. “The marshal, uh, the big guy with the bandage on his arm, took it. He’s got it.”

Devlin cursed and slammed his fist against the side of the van near The Package’s head, making him cringe.