The Bigot List: (A J.J. McCall Novel) (27 page)

Later Thursday Afternoon…

“A
eroflot Flight 3-0-2-5 to Sheremetyevo will board in ten minutes at Gate B41,” an attendant announced over the airport intercom system. Dulles Airport was bustling with afternoon travelers.

Lana, dressed down from her more revealing wardrobe, wore dark-colored Dockers and a reversible navy/red hoodie to help her blend in with the crowd. She scanned the security checkpoint, watching for unusual movements, listening for hurried footsteps pacing toward her. She heard nothing, nothing except the sound of freedom, her escape merely a few feet ahead. She turned her head over her shoulder to look at her darling Jake. He was just a few families behind. He’d taken an extended bathroom break, so she stayed in line.

She emptied her pockets into the plastic X-ray container, sat her purse inside. Her most current weapon was in the holster on her back—she’d left the others, the ones she reported missing, inside her house. Once J.J. figured out Lana’s true identity, once Chris realized she had defected and inevitably blabbed their extent of their activities, the Bureau could search her former residence and retrieve them. They’d no doubt comb every square inch of her Cape Cod before sunset. In the meantime, she’d be long gone, back to a place where she’d have no use for them, a place where she’d be a hero to her country and once again the sunlight in her father’s eyes.

She reached in her purse for the leather case, the one containing her FBI credentials. She’d flash them one last time to clear the checkpoint, then chuck them in the trash where they belonged. Almost seven years under their noses and they couldn’t find her, not if she wore a sign on her back. She laughed to herself. She and her darling Jake had made fools of them all—J.J., Tony, Chris and the rest of the FBI.
Idiots
, she thought to herself. In just a few short hours, she’d be back in Moscow, ready to move into her government-furnished flat. She’d assume her well-earned desk job at the Center during the day. And at night—Jake.

“Remove your weapon, please,” the TSA officer directed. “Place it on the X-ray machine.”

Hmph. Odd,
she thought. They usually didn’t ask her to remove it. Just allowed her to pass through metal detectors. A new rule? No matter. She only had a few more steps. Her new life waited, so there was no need to argue with these overpaid peons now.

“All clear,” the TSA agent said as she stepped through the scanner.

She reached for her weapon. It wasn’t there. She panicked. Her head flitted around the area until she identified the problem.

“Surprised to see me?” J.J. said, smiling at the shock on Lana’s face. A large, scowling Italian stood behind her as J.J. dangled Lana’s weapon from her index finger. J.J.’s Glock was trained on the traitor’s head.

Lana shriveled in her momentary daze, her eyes darting to the X-ray machine where the TSA agent stood, his hands the size of baseball mitts and her shoes and purse in his hands. She had no creds, no gun, no passport, and no boarding pass.

“Where the hell did you think you were going?” Tony said, grabbing Lana’s gun from J.J. and zipping it into his jacket pocket.

Lana gasped, her surprise at J.J.’s appearance evident. Her face turned ghostly pale as she took a step back. But she’d never give up without a fight. Where there was a will, there was a way. And she’d find a way.

•  •  •

“Where’s the fucking drop, Lana?” J.J. eased toward Lana, her 9-mm still aimed and ready to fire. At the worst time, her hand began to tremble again. The numbness, it dulled the feeling in her fingers. Her grip weakened against the handle.

No. No. Not now!

“You all right, J.J.?” Tony said. He eased up slowly behind her. She could feel his body heat against her back.

“I’m okay!” she barked.

“Jake, run!” Lana screamed before launching a kick to J.J.’s firing arm, her foot slamming into the bone in J.J.’s wrist. She stepped back hard into Tony and threw them both off balance. Meanwhile, J.J.’s gun fell and slid a short distance, slamming against the base of the X-ray machine. J.J. and Lana dove, scrambled toward the weapon. Lana edged out J.J. out by inches, seconds.

J.J. gritted her teeth and continued to tug and pull Lana’s clothes. If Lana grabbed her gun, she was dead. And she’d have no one but herself to blame. Her denials could’ve gotten her and Tony—the man she respected, the man she adored, the man she loved—killed. She desperately stretched her arm, willed the feeling back into her fingers. But Tony’s size fourteen foot landed against Lana’s ribcage, sending her reeling onto her side. She rolled onto her hands and knees, and scrambled through the metal detector as startled passengers screamed and backed out of the way.

Dazed for only a few seconds, Lana sprinted down the walkway in trouser socks toward the escalators. J.J. could see Jake running with a saddle bag in the distance. He’d taken the intel but had waited long enough to ensure Lana broke free.

Tony pulled J.J to her feet and both returned their guns to their holsters and took off after their targets, pursuing them with incensed abandon. If Jake and Lana made it to the Aerotrain on the next level down, they were both as good as gone.

TSA called for back-up, but the agents present couldn’t leave the checkpoint.

“I won’t let you down again!” J.J. yelled to Tony, who was on her heels. “Where the hell is Washington Field?”

“I don’t know but Jake’s getting away!” Tony said, kicking in the jets. “Catch up with you ahead.”

The moment he passed her, fatigue set in. Her Belvedere binge began to drag her down, and she sucked wind as she chugged down the passenger walkway too many steps behind Lana. The vodka leaded her limbs, slowed her sprint. Exhausted, hung-over she wanted to give up, but she couldn’t. She had promises to keep, to Viktor, to Tony, to herself.

“I’ll never drink again,” she thought to herself. “I’ll never drink again.” She took a deep breath and picked up the pace.

Jake was the farthest ahead and had managed to dissolve into the crowd. Lana, slowed by the dense crowds and the slippery linoleum, was still in view a few meters ahead. Lana was clueless, had no idea J.J. still had an eye on her. When at last J.J....tripped. Over a child’s stray duffle bag.

Shit!

She’d fallen in the middle of a chase like the inept TV agents she mocked. She wanted to kick herself, but the kick would have to wait. She dragged herself to her feet, trying to find a way through the crowd, trying to make up the few feet of distance she’d lost. The announcer made the last call for the flight to Moscow. Lana was too far away from the gate to catch a flight, but she put more distance between them. Step by step. Getting too close to the Aerotrain escalator for J.J.’s comfort.

J.J. scanned the area for anything that would help her.

Where to go? What to do?
Then she spotted it.

The people mover!

She sprinted up the grated moving walkway. Left nothing behind but the scent of Tony’s favorite cologne. She concealed herself behind travelers as she hurdled baggage, apologizing profusely along the way. She was close. She could make it. She’d catch Lana before they reached the train exit.

Then it happened, she closed the distance. Lana was back within her reach, only a few steps ahead on the down escalator. J.J. shrouded herself behind the tall gentlemen in front of her, two linebacker-sized hulks. She watched below as Jake and Lana slowed their pace. Tony was nowhere to be found. He was well hidden. J.J. had no idea where.

She saw Jake looking behind him, the saddlebag strap running diagonally across his chest. He was near the Aerotrain exit. As another flight was called and a crowd headed toward baggage check area, a space opened up and Lana appeared. She had reversed her jacket from navy to red, her head concealed beneath the hood; J.J. knew the trick.

Lana appeared jittery and scanned the travelers desperately seeking Jake.

Jake slowed to allow her to spot him. They closed the distance between them as J.J. looked on, concealing herself everywhere she could, checking around to spot Tony. She wanted to nab them together, at the same time.

Finally, she’d made it. A few steps behind Lana.

With their arms outstretched, Jake held out his hand for Lana to grab. As she neared Jake, increasing the speed of her paces, she didn’t see the man, the one in the power wheelchair rolling from her blind spot. They collided in an instant and Lana lost her grip and fell to her knees.

“Jake!” she yelled her voice heavy with desperation.

The slip and Jake’s hard stare distracted Lana just long enough to put J.J. in reaching distance. As Lana returned to her feet, J.J. lurched forward, caught Lana by her natural blond tresses, and dragged her screaming to the floor, the weight of her body throwing J.J. off balance. Jake was stunned, easing toward the door, seemingly trying to decide whether to jump in or make a run for it on the Aerotrain she heard approaching.

“Run Jake, run!” Lana yelled.

His face reddened, and he froze, just froze.

J.J. and Lana tussled before Lana jerked away, breaking free of J.J.’s weakened grip. She stood firm to her feet, both eye to eye. Neither noticed the curious crowd that had begun to form or the security personnel charging toward the area. They wanted to kill each other. Both exchanged bone shaking slaps to the face. Lana lunged for J.J.’s weapon, determined to end the life of the witch who stood between freedom and death. In one swift motion, J.J. grabbed Lana’s arm and twisted behind her back until she submitted and fell to the floor on her knees. Then a loud thud sounded as J.J. drove her knee into Lana’s back, a force powerful enough to dent a steel enforced door. Lana’s chest slammed against the tile, her body limp, her mind barely conscious. She gasped for air—breathless and disoriented.

“That’s for making me run,” J.J. snarled, baring her teeth. Her nostrils flared as she pressed her knee deep into Lana’s spine.

Lana made a feeble attempt to squirm her weakened body free. “Get off of me...bitch!” she yelled.

Incensed, J.J. raised her balled hand to the heavens. Then she dropped a blow to the visible side of Lana’s face, the force of which emptied Lana’s tear ducts, knocking Lana out for the count. “The only bitch you need to worry about is your cellmate at Supermax.” J.J. said. She quickly put handcuffs on Lana and exhaled.
It’s over!
J.J. said to herself. She hardly had a moment to catch her breath. Everything happened so fast. Only minutes had passed since they’d arrived at Dulles, but Lana was in custody.

J.J. stood up, hovering over Lana’s limp body. She scanned the area to find Tony. As security personnel approached with guns drawn, she reached to pull her creds from her pocket and open them. Then she spotted Jake. His face was reddened, his expression screamed revenge. He reached his hand in the small of his back, inside his jacket, and pulled out an object. The silver caught a ray of sun and glimmered. J.J. realized what he was holding—a .22 caliber gun small enough to conceal in his palm, big enough to kill at short range.

Of course, he’s armed
. He had credentials which differed little from those of an FBI agent. He could get through the security checkpoint with a quick flash.

With his arm outstretched, he aimed it at Tony’s head, waiting to get a clear shot.

After ensuring Lana was still out, J.J. opened her credentials and removed the gun from her holster. “FBI! FBI! Everybody down! Everybody down!” she yelled at the stunned crowd. Security stopped their pursuit toward her and began to secure the innocent bystanders when they noticed Jake. “Tony! Behind you!”

Jake stood statue still until Tony spun around to see him.

Within a moment too short to blink, the crowd cleared. Some hit the floor, protecting their heads; a few rubberneckers stood in the background, watching, waiting for the events to unfold. Only she, Tony and Jake were left standing—and Tony’s gun was still in its holster.

She dropped her credentials on the floor and grasped her weapon, this time with both hands.

Jake didn’t shift his eyes from Tony for a moment. Seemed he’d never intended to shoot J.J., maybe out of their friendship, or perhaps because he knew shooting Tony would hurt her far worse than any wound he could inflict on her. At that moment, J.J. knew. Tony was the love of her life and she’d move heaven, earth, and a hollow point to protect him.

J.J.’s gaze volleyed back and forth between them as she willed her hand steady and outstretched her arms. Her mind swam; her heart raced. She didn’t want hurt Jake, but she’d die before watching him kill Tony.

And she had no plans to die.

A wicked smirk edged the corners of Jake’s lips upward. He had the drop on Tony. J.J. had the drop on Jake. She dreaded her choice. Did she have enough heart to pull the trigger? Could she kill him if she needed to? She prayed he would just give up.

“Drop the gun, Jake! Drop it!” she pleaded. She eased around to get a clean shot at his torso. “Give this up, Jake. You don’t want to do this! Tony’s your friend.”

He didn’t respond. His arms shook as tears rolled down his eyes.

“I don’t give a shit who he is. You know me, J.J. And you know my philosophy,” he said, his voice trembling. He lifted the gun to his face and pressed it into his temple. Then seconds later turned it back to Tony. “When all hell breaks loose…”