And it did. The number of turbaned, bearded Muslims increased as they neared the two-story complex that served as the Islamic Jihad League's base. The place wasn't huge and had discreetly armed men, the bulges of their guns' shoulder harnesses visible under robes, at every door and even down the street. Others could be seen in some of the windows. An air of danger hung about the place, and Jordan and Riley agreed that even driving by would attract too much attention. Another thing both agreed on was that the guards never looked up, and a courtyard inside the gates offered a likely place to kill anyone coming or going.

They returned to Jordan's place to prepare for the mission's work. First on the list was researching Yasin to find a photo, which wasn't hard. He hadn't done enough to get on something like an FBI watch list, but his ident.i.ty was known to Parisian authorities. Several photos were found, each showing a portly, bespectacled Muslim in his thirties. While the long beard and mustache made him look similar to others, Riley was used to noting the specifics in someone's face to make sure he'd acquired his target.

They used Google Earth and satellite photos to plan multiple escape routes and choose the right place to do the job. All they needed was the right sniper perch, but there were few buildings tall enough in the neighborhood, leaving one across the street as their best option despite the risk of being caught afterward. The shot would be easy. The flight, not so much.

The challenge now was having no real idea when the target would leave the building. Or arrive if not there while they watched. For that reason, they planned for a long vigil, taking turns watching if need be. They decided to wait until early the next morning, while it was still dark, and get into position when fewer people were around to see them. Before the sun rose, they had ascended to their sniper perch.

"If something happens," began Riley, looking through the scope while Jordan munched on a croissant, "just run and don't worry about me." Below them, everything seemed quiet, a dozen security guards monitoring the grounds and streets but never looking up, like yesterday. No one knew they were there and none of the nearby buildings were taller. No one would spot them from above unless a helicopter flew by, but that wasn't likely.

"f.u.c.k that," she replied. "We're together in this, baby. For good."

"That mean you're coming back to Comus with me?"

"If you'll have me."

"You bet your a.s.s I will."

"Think your family will forgive me?"

"In time. Don't worry."

"Easier said than done."

"That you want their forgiveness goes a long way."

She didn't reply, opting for shoving the rest of her breakfast into his mouth for him, then putting the wrapper away. Everything was prepared for quick departure and they wore new disguises they'd picked up just in case a quick flight had them captured by police cameras at intersections.

They spent over four hours lying on the rooftop, side-by-side, waiting for a kill shot. Sometimes all they did was stare through the scope, but other times they chatted, comparing opinions on wind speed and other matters. Not since training had either had someone beside them. Jordan felt it was oddly romantic, getting ready to kill someone together, though only because Riley was protecting himself and Jordan was helping him do so. Otherwise killing someone together was a little too Bonnie and Clyde. The thought made her laugh.

"Am I missing something?" Riley asked.

"No, sweetie. You're not missing a thing. Can't wait to get out of here." As she said that, activity picked up in IJL's courtyard.

"Now might be your chance."

All talk ceased as a black car inside the compound pulled up as if to receive someone from inside the house. A half-dozen men milled around the car's side, then more joined them from the building. In their midst walked Yasin, smiling and pausing to greet someone. Together, and without a word exchanged, Jordan and Riley pulled their respective triggers and what sounded like a single shot rang out. A burst of red exploded from Abu Yasin's head as the twin bullets killed him.

"Time to go," said Riley, slinking backward, all business.

"Yep."

Shouts erupted below as the pair on the roof put away their rifles in just seconds, knowing the area would be swarming with those wanting revenge. They managed to reach the roof door without being seen, but as Riley half expected, the door opening could be seen from across the way. It caught attention from someone who'd run up to the top of Yasin's building, which was lower than theirs, to look around. Furious yelling broke out and the changed tone told them one thing.

"We've been seen."

Rising, they plunged through the door and down the stairs as fast as possible, slipping the bags they carried in one hand over their shoulders to free their hands. Taking stairs two at a time, they reached the ground floor even as someone busted in a nearby door out of sight. Both snipers pulled handguns out and ran for the rear exit, reaching it just as someone entered the hallway behind them and shouted something in Arabic. Riley glanced back with gun raised and, on seeing a rifle pointed at them, opened fire as bullets began spraying the hall near them. Jordan was first through the door as the gunfire stopped, for Riley had shot the attacker dead. He raced after.

Once in the street, they ran for the car that was parked a couple blocks away, for parking any closer would have made it too easy for pursuers to block them in. A path of twisting side streets had been chosen and now proved invaluable because armed men could be heard approaching at a run from all sides, except the direction they fled toward. Even so, they weren't quick enough, for as they approached the next turn ahead, shouting men appeared behind.

"Faster," Riley said.

More bullets struck a parked car ahead as they ducked around it, hugging the wall. Pedestrians screamed and ran for cover. Riley sent a few bullets back, striking one of the turbaned men. They ran around the intersection's corner. By silent agreement, she scouted ahead while he watched behind. Angry voices could be heard on the streets to either side, one of those being the direction they needed to go.

"This way," she said, turning toward a motel, opening its front door, and running in with Riley close behind. Startled people inside the lobby scampered out of the way as the duo charged through and out another way into the street beyond.

"The restaurant," Riley shouted, pointing to a low building slightly right of their position. They'd lost the pursuers for a moment and ran in between cars that were waiting for a light, then over the sidewalk as people got out of the way, clearly aware trouble was afoot. They ran into the diner. A startled hostess backed away and Jordan tried to squeeze through waiting customers without shoving them too hard, prompting Riley to yell at everyone to move before realizing they'd only put the customers in danger if the gunmen in pursuit caught up with them. Swearing, he told Jordan to go out the side door.

"Why?" she asked, disagreeing.

"Gotta lead them away from these people. C'mon!" He charged into an alley with two old, parked cars and no people. He ran back toward the street. Sure enough, four gunmen were approaching the restaurant, the commotion having attracted their attention. He fired two shots at them, hitting one in the leg, and the others came toward him instead. Satisfied, Riley turned back to Jordan. "Go!"

They raced away again, doubting the wisdom of this as more bullets struck the area around them, but they made good use of vehicles to run between, Riley firing more shots back to slow down pursuit. They rounded the corner of the street where the getaway car was parked and hadn't gone ten steps when Jordan swore.

"Car's blocked!" she said, seeing a delivery truck that had parallel parked and didn't look to be moving anytime soon.

"This way," Riley grabbed her hand and raced away, eyes scanning for other options. Meanwhile, honking cars could be heard behind them. He wondered if some pursuers were driving them. "We need a car."

"Or those," Jordan said, pointing at six motorcycles a block away. The riders were milling about on the sidewalk, not looking at them.

Riley grinned and headed there, but they had to pa.s.s another intersection, and when he paused and looked around the corner toward Yasin's place, he saw a dozen terrorists approaching at a run, guns at the ready, heads turning everywhere. Crossing meant exposing themselves. Running fast while firing was the only way across. "You ready?"

Jordan hefted her handgun. "On three?"

He was about to do it when he suddenly gave her a kiss on the lips. "For luck."

She smiled. "I expect more once we're out of here."

"Done. You're first. I want you to have the head start. You'll make it halfway before they even start shooting." That meant he'd be exposed the whole time, but better him than her.

He took a last look, counted off, and then Jordan sprinted over the pavement, making it three strides before the fastest guy trained a gun on her. Riley put a bullet in the other man's forehead and followed at a slower run while the other a.s.sailants hesitated between saving themselves and firing back. Bullets ricocheted off cars and the street around him as the Marine continued. He only knew Jordan had made it when her gunfire joined his from where she stood at the corner. Two more terrorists went down and Riley made it through.

"You hit?" Jordan asked.

"No. You?"

"No."

"Let's go."

They ran toward the motorcycles, all of them crotch rockets like what Riley's brother Tristan rode. The bikers saw them coming and looked ready to put up a fight until two muzzles wised them up.

"The keys," Riley demanded. "Now, a.s.sholes." When they hesitated a second, he realized they might not speak English, but then the two nearest guys handed them over to the Marine.

Jordan gestured with the gun for them to move away. "Back off!"

The guys did as ordered and Riley mounted a black Ducati, putting the gun in a motorcycle tank bag between his legs and starting the engine. Jordan's gun kept the owners from trying anything. With the bike on, he pulled his gun out and trained it on them. Jordan took the other key from him.

"You know how to ride?" Riley asked as she got on the red BMW, tucking her gun away and starting the bike. The subject hadn't come up in all their talks.

"Does this answer your question?" she asked, taking off with a wheelie.

He smiled and came after as more bullets struck nearby.

Unfortunately, they weren't the only ones who could steal a bike. As two cars full of terrorists squealed around the corner in pursuit, four of the terrorists commandeered the remaining bikes and took off after them. By now, two cop cars had arrived and also gave chase.

The streets of Paris erupted in chaos.

Chapter 18 Flight of Hearts.

Jordan didn't know this area of the city that well, but staying ahead of Riley was crucial as he'd never been here before and had to follow her lead, but there was no way to tell him that. He seemed to know it anyway and kept back, his head frequently turned to look behind them as they veered around slower cars. One of the terrorists had promptly crashed, but the others seemed to have better skill, following as they careened through light traffic on a two-way street.

Gunshots sounded behind them, surprising her that they'd try that and ride. The throttle was on the right side and most people are right-handed. You either had to let off the gas to shoot or do it with the left hand. They must've been better than she thought, but then she heard a big crash and chanced a look. One of them had crashed into a car. She smiled. More gunfire, this time from Riley, who was right-handed but had admitted to practicing lefty, too, preceded another crash farther back. This was proving easier than expected.

Just then, a pickup truck full of terrorists hurtled into the road ahead of her, going in the same direction, the driver apparently not realizing he'd gotten there first. The pa.s.sengers in the back saw and began to turn, raising rifles. Even as Jordan pulled her gun out, Riley began firing from behind her, striking two of the men. Jordan's bullets joined his and the attackers had trouble firing back. The driver went straight, onto a bridge, and Jordan knew following was suicide, though that was where she'd intended to go. She took a ramp going down and effectively lost the truck, Riley following. Another motorcycle, two more trucks, and a growing pursuit of police cars came after.

Sirens seemed to come from all sides and she knew they had to do something crazy and unexpected. Cars were stopped at a light ahead and she scooted around them, then raced through the stoplight, narrowly dodging a Lexus as she joined the cross traffic. Riley duplicated her move.

So did the lone motorcyclist. The trucks tried too, the first one plowing into the back of a car to knock it aside and keep going, but this wasn't a movie. The ploy didn't work and the truck got stuck, both it and the one behind, and the police cars, all of them out of the pursuit. For a moment it was calm, the traffic moving smoothly and some of the sirens fading away. The lone remaining terrorist put his gun away and seemed to focus on catching up to them. The snipers put their guns away, too, and ratcheted up their flight.

Jordan scanned the road for a way to lose the guy, but he'd have plenty of time to see anything she did. Then she had an idea and rolled on the throttle. The roar of Riley's bike sounded behind as he emulated her and they flew down the road at dangerous speeds, especially considering that neither wore a helmet or any leathers. Jordan saw a park ahead on one side and aggressively switched lanes, heading straight for it. She slowed on nearing, jumping the curb and getting slightly airborne as she landed on the gra.s.s and sped onward toward the park's far side. A few joggers were out, but no kids, and those present scurried out of the way before turning to watch.

With Riley following, she pulled up behind a snack stand and dropped the bike on the walking trail there, pulling out the handgun in one motion. Riley stopped beside her as she opened fire on the terrorist, who was riding in the middle of a field with nothing to shield him, just as she'd planned. She fired two shots and the b.a.s.t.a.r.d went down lifelessly, the bike tumbling through the gra.s.s.

"Get on!" Riley yelled.

She tucked the gun away again and jumped up behind him, his rifle bag in the way a bit. "Wait!" She lifted it over his head and put it around her neck and behind her instead; wearing two bags herself was slightly less awkward than riding behind someone wearing one. "Go!"

With a squeal of tires, they took off even as three police cars appeared nearby. Yet another pursuit, this time with prison instead of death on the line. The cops, more skilled in pursuit, ignored the facedown terrorist on the lawn. Jordan scanned the sky and saw no helicopters, but one couldn't be far behind. This had to end soon.

She issued directions, clinging to Riley and pointing out streets, yelling reminders about Parisian drivers, and how traffic patterns worked here. Riley rode like he'd done this before, finding roads the cops couldn't follow on as easily, though they tried. Sometimes he lost those officers only to encounter others, and Jordan knew time was running out as reinforcements were nearing. Just after losing the cops once more, she saw a taxi driver helping a woman unload luggage from the car's rear and pointed it out to Riley.

"There! We'll take the taxi!"

He didn't answer, just drove right up and onto the sidewalk. Jordan hopped off and waved her gun at the taxi driver before Riley sent the motorcycle crashing alone down a stairway to an alley. The cops wouldn't know to look for it there. He came back as Jordan got behind the wheel, having already tossed the rifle cases inside. The irate cabbie was yelling obscenities on the sidewalk as the Marine got in, and they drove away casually, like nothing was amiss. Within seconds, they were around a corner as cop cars drove past them, sirens blaring.

"We've got to get out of town," Jordan said, breathing hard.

"Not back to your place?" he asked, glancing around.

"I think the bags give us away too much. Let's get out, regroup, and decide what to do."

"Your call. Find a place to leave the taxi without anyone being too curious. And no cameras."

"Right. We'll catch another ride back in later."

They drove for five minutes in silence as the city began to fade behind them, and soon it was gone as the suburbs swallowed them and they began to relax. No sirens were heard. For the moment, they'd escaped, but reports of a stolen taxi would start soon if they hadn't already, and that made them a target. Time to get off the road.

"Think they have trackers in these cars?" Riley asked.

"They might. I have an idea." Jordan pulled into a shopping center, driving around the parking lot to the rear where they wouldn't be seen.

"Let's hear it."

She gestured back toward the way they'd come. "We'll hike back to a department store there and I'll go in and buy a duffle bag to stick the rifle bags in. The cops are looking for two people with these wigs and with two rifle cases, not two people with one bag and our actual appearance. I'll also get some new clothes. There was a bus station back there. We'll catch that back in."

"Pretty good. Let's do it."

As plans go, it was largely foolproof and went off without a hitch. An hour later, they were back at her place, where all they wanted was their pa.s.sports and other identifying items. They'd already packed them up just in case something like this happened, clothes already in suitcases. They weren't inside five minutes, wearing gloves all the while, when they left again, this time for good. All the police activity was far enough away from them that they didn't worry much, but then Riley realized something.

"We have to get the car," he said, as they walked down the street.

"Why? It's in a fake name and they won't notice it for a week when it gets towed. We'll be long gone."

"Yeah but someone might realize it's near the shooting scene and it was abandoned. They'll trace it back to the rental place, and have your fake name. They may realize Thomas was tied to Yasin, but they'll know Thomas died at Jake's place, Jake died at my place, we flew to Barcelona, and while there's no proof we came to Paris, a rental car from Barcelona, rented after we arrived there, was found abandoned near Yasin's place. Thin, but enough for suspicion. We remove the car, and some of that goes away."

"s.h.i.t. I hadn't thought of that. What you learned about cell phone tracking actually means we've proven we were in Paris, but no one will be able to tell unless they have a reason to suspect us and get our records."

"f.u.c.k! Okay, so we definitely need to go get that car. Hopefully no one ever IDs Jake. We destroyed Thomas' phone so they may never know he was involved with Yasin. The connections might never be realized."

"True. We might be okay, but let's help ourselves out a little."

Riley put an arm around her as they walked. "We'll catch a taxi to near the warehouse and drop this stuff off there. Then we'll take a bus or something back toward Yasin's, walk to the car, and just drive away. We can get our stuff from the warehouse again, then head for Barcelona."

She nodded. "A little risky but you're right."

They took little with them, and certainly not guns, and soon approached the crime scene on foot. That they'd parked the car a little farther from Yasin's place now had an added benefit, as the nearby police were concentrated blocks away and only a few officers were here, none looking especially alert. They clearly didn't expect trouble here. Walking casually as if unaware of anything unusual afoot, Jordan and Riley mingled with pedestrians and saw the car sitting where they'd left it. Nothing blocked the way.

Riley held Jordan's hand as if they were a couple out for a romantic stroll. To aid that appearance, he'd already bought a croissant and munched on it as they came closer. No one took notice of them and they made a point of not looking around except for checking out the contents of store fronts they pa.s.sed. This allowed them to scope out police as if by accident. They reached the car without incident and got in, Jordan once again behind the wheel. She pulled out slowly and drove away from the activity, breathing a sigh of relief when they got away unscathed.

Within an hour, they were on the highway out of Paris for the final time. Neither felt entirely relaxed despite the immediate danger being over. The a.s.sa.s.sination of Yasin didn't worry Jordan, but the death of Thomas would definitely cause questions to be asked, though why that happened in Jake's place would point the finger at Jake. Maybe that false trail was all they'd need. The authorities here would soon discover that Jake had gone missing. Some small chance existed that the police in Comus would figure out Jake's ident.i.ty from fingerprints or facial recognition programs, if they had access to the latter. Neither Jordan nor Riley knew enough about their investigative techniques to know how likely it was that they'd check international records, having no reason to believe they'd need to.

Either way, both felt confident they couldn't be traced beyond Barcelona without probable cause, or whatever the French equivalent was. In fact, any investigation would require international cooperation, and while that wasn't unheard of, no one had any reason to suspect some sort of conspiracy had been going on.

Seeing Jordan yawn behind the wheel, Riley asked, "Do you want to stop for the night?"

She shook her head. "No. Let's get out of France ASAP."

"Why don't we switch drivers again? You can get some sleep."

"Okay."

They drove through the night and arrived at the Barcelona hotel mid-morning the next day. After a call from Riley, Kris was expecting them. The meeting was brief and up in the room, where Kris was already packed to go home. The hug she gave Riley lasted a long time, but she did little more than nod at Jordan, still distrusting her, clearly. Jordan sighed but didn't feel like dealing with the distrust now. Kris had already relayed to their siblings back home that the mission was a success and their brother was fine. Then Riley escorted her to the lobby and her waiting taxi for the airport, so Jordan decided to take a shower.