Kill Alex Cross

different piece of mismatched luggage from the back of the van, and then the older son drove off to circle the neighborhood.
    Hala took up a position just to the west, on a pedestrian bridge that spanned the yard. She backtracked maybe thirty yards and climbed the winding metal stairs to the walkway above. Once she was up there, she found that the area was fully enclosed with more chain link. But the bridge still offered a perfect view.
    From the center of the bridge, she checked once in each direction. “Clear,” she radioed softly.
    It took a few minutes for the others to appear.
    They looked like animated silhouettes as they moved out onto the tracks, laterally at first, and then up between the rows of train cars, where they disappeared. Sarin gas , Hala was thinking. This was impressive. It would resonate powerfully around the world .
    Several minutes ticked by. Slowly, very slowly. There had been no word about how long it would take to install the material. Hala could actually hear them breathing as they worked, but conversation was held to a minimum.
    She kept her eyes moving constantly. They swept the yard, over to Brentwood Road and T Street on the far side, then back again to the utility road nearer by, and New York Avenue beyond. It wasn’t difficult to stay alert. There was plenty of adrenaline for that.
    So when a police cruiser appeared on the scene, Hala saw it right away. It eased down the utility road and came to a stop not far from their original drop-off location.
    “Up near the bridge,” she said softly. “We may have a serious problem.”

“ POLICE AT THE south fence. One car so far,” Hala whispered. “Hold your positions. I’m watching them. I can take them out if I have to. I hope not to do that.”
    The cruiser’s passenger door opened, and the shadow of a cop flowed out.
    Hala leveled her Sig through the chain link, siting the man’s chest. He was as good as dead, if that was what she needed to do. Yet she felt nothing. As he stepped up to the fence, another surge of adrenaline ran through her. It felt as though her blood was running a race. She wanted to kill him .
    The policeman stopped and looked around. As casual as a tourist. Then he leaned back slightly. When Hala saw the stream arcing away from his body, she almost laughed out loud.
    “Stand by. He’s just urinating,” she said. “I’m watching the idiot relieve himself.”
    As the cop finished up and turned to go, his partner called out something from the car. Whatever it was, the first officer stopped and turned back toward the rail yard. A flashlight came up in his hand.
    He shone it through the fence and onto the tracks — where it caught a glimpse of a moving body. Hala saw it too — the younger boy. Just before he darted back out of sight. Imbecile! Amateur!
    She didn’t hesitate, squeezing off three fast shots. The flashlight dropped first, then the cop himself. She was pleased with her shooting, the accuracy under duress. This was excellent practice.
    “Everyone out of there,” Hala radioed. “Bring the van to the opposite side. Brentwood and T. Do it now!”
    Another light, even brighter, came right up in her face!
    She realized it was the search beam on the side of the cruiser. Hala fired into it, two more rounds. There was a popping sound — and the night went dark again.
    For a brief moment, she couldn’t see anything, but she could hear the second cop. He was radioing for backup even as he ran toward the bridge and his fallen partner. His dead partner, Hala knew.
    “Shots fired! Officer down! Request immediate assistance at the Brentwood rail yard! Repeat: officer down!”
    That was followed by heavy footsteps pounding up the metal stairs.
    Time to run. Time to get everybody out .
    The rest of the team was scrambling and directing one another to the pickup point in breathy, frantic voices. Hala ignored all of it as she made for the far side of the bridge.
    Then the cop’s voice came again, directly behind her. “ Freeze! ”
    She didn’t.
    A bullet ricocheted off the metal cage just over her shoulder. There was nowhere to go but straight ahead. Unless —
    Hala stopped short.
    She turned and dropped in one fluid motion, firing blindly down the alley of the walkway. Everything else disappeared for two very long seconds. Then the second cop dropped to the ground.
    Dead? Almost definitely. She never missed. That was why she had the gun, not Tariq. Then Hala was up and running again.
    She hit the