“Nicolo, Redman, pull in tighter. Bree, where are you right now?”

    “I'm behind the buildings. Headed east.”

    “Good. Everyone else hold position. What about you, John? See anything yet?”

    “Nothing from here,” Sampson radioed back. “Nobody's moving around over there. Just you guys.”

    “Jamal, how close are you?”

    “Hang on. Just coming around a semi.” I caught sight of him briefly up near the last row of trucks as I crossed the parking lot. Bree fell in silently beside me.

    I had my Glock out, low at my side. So did she. Was the killer here with his team? Were they the same ones who had killed the Coxes and the Ahmeds?

    “Somebody's getting out of the cab,” Jamal McDonald whispered. “No, two people. There's four others I can see approaching from the Land Cruisers. Looks like a satchel of some kind. This must be it. Hang on.” There was a brief silence and then, “Shit! I think they see me. Looks like little kids-teenagers!”

    Bree and I were running now. "Jamal, what's going on?

    We're on our way, almost there!"

    The next thing we heard were gunshots, lots of them.

Cross Country

Chapter 16

    BREE AND I began to sprint at full speed in the direction of the first volley of shots. I could still hear Jamal McDonald-but he was making a wet, gasping sound, as though he might have been hit in the throat and was possibly suffocating.

    The other officers were shouting “twenties” over the wireless and also converging on the tanker. Sampson stayed put on the roof and radioed Fairfax County for more help.