"Apparently, they used some of it to hire contract killers," Daniel said.
Kindler lurched forward on the couch in a useless gesture of anger, bringing the full attention of Daniel's pistol to his face. Daniel simply shook his head, and Kindler settled back into the blood-soaked couch.
"None of you get it," Kindler said. "We're not being paid. We're part of the revolution to put America back on the right path. There are hundreds of us. Soon to be thousands…"
One of the cell phones on the conference table vibrated, shaking the car keys. Daniel stared at Kindler and examined his response. He wasn't pleased with what he could read on the man's face. Kindler managed to keep his eyes off the table, but the strain was evident.
"Expecting a call?" Daniel asked.
"It's probably just a standard check-in."
"With whom?" Daniel replied.
"I really can't say," Kindler said, avoiding eye contact.
Daniel shot Jessica a glance, which she returned without changing her expression. They were prepared to evacuate the room at a moment's notice.
"Mr. Young, do you have remote access to these records?"
"Most of them. We'd have to visit my office in D.C. to access some of the deeper account specifics. We don't have remote access for regulatory reasons. What are you looking for?"
"Anything related to True America, directly or indirectly."
"And you'll let me go if I give you everything?"
"I won't kill you, if that's what you're asking," Daniel said.
"Can you protect my family? Is there a witness protection program or something?"
"We'll cross that bridge when you provide us with the information," Daniel said.
"How do I know you won't just kill me?"
"This may sound kind of cliché, but you don't."
"That's reassuring," Young said.
The cell phone stopped buzzing, which caused Daniel to glance in the direction of the small pile of wallets, pistol magazines, cell phones and keys in the middle of the table Less than a second later, the second phone started to vibrate, which didn't surprise him in the least. He didn't need to look at Kindler's panicked face to figure out what would happen next. Theodore Kindler launched forward, successfully propelling himself off the couch and onto the coffee table, careening desperately toward Daniel with his hands behind his back.
Daniel extended his hand and fired a single round through his face, stepping aside as momentum and gravity carried the corpse into Benjamin Young. The dead weight slammed into Young, momentarily pinning him to the wing-back chair before sliding to the floor. Kindler left a considerable portion of his head in Young's lap, causing him to instantly vomit a brownish-yellow stream onto the lifeless human pile at his feet. He turned his head to the side of the chair opposite of Jessica and vomited again.
"We need to move. Prep Mr. Young for immediate departure. Make sure we have all of his electronics," he said and sprinted for the door.
Munoz nearly stumbled into the room when Daniel yanked the door open. He held a bloody towel in one hand and a spray bottle in the other. The air reeked of bleach solution. Melendez was on his hands and knees scrubbing a soapy liquid into the carpet.
"We've got company. Unknown disposition. We need to move Young to a more secure location. Do you need anything from your room?"
"Just our backpacks. Spare magazines, money, ID. The essentials," Munoz replied.
"Grab the packs, and cover the hallway. Both directions. We'll be ready to move in fifteen seconds," Daniel said.
He grabbed one of the killer's discarded pistols from the tile floor bathroom and took two magazines from the conference table. He considered grabbing their cell phones and wallets, but decided against it. Their mission was to secure Benjamin Young, or more importantly, any useful information he could provide. He returned to the sitting area to find Young on his feet, vigorously wiping his face with a wet towel. Jessica snatched the towel out of his hand.
"You look beautiful again," she said and pushed him toward the door.
"Fuck. Will you take it easy?" Young complained.
"You got everything?" he said, reaching out to grab Young by the shirt collar.
"Two laptops, Blackberry, some kind of crypto-key fob, wallet, cash…Mr. Young is ready to roll," Jessica replied.
While she hiked a dark brown leather satchel over her left shoulder and made a last second adjustment to the straps, he pulled Young in close.
"Listen to this woman, and don't think for one second that you can escape us. Is that clear?" he said, shaking Young's collar. "Things will get hectic on the way out of this hotel. If you try to run, you're a dead man."
He winked at Jessica behind Young's back. "Keep him low and behind cover. How's your hand?" he whispered in her ear, kissing the nape of her neck.
"It's fine. Do I really have to babysit him?"
"I agree. I'd feel more comfortable with someone else," Young interrupted, without turning around.
"Shut the fuck up," Daniel said.
Turning toward Jessica, he said, "You're not exactly dressed for a running gunfight. Sorry."
She kicked her high heels onto the floor. "Next time I'll wear a track suit."
Jessica was dressed in a sleeveless black turtleneck dress, cut at mid-thigh. Not exactly the best outfit for urban escape and evasion, unless you planned to take refuge in a chic nightclub. He wished they had brought a more practical pair of shoes for her. Running barefoot through the streets of Buckhead on a Friday night wouldn't be a pleasant experience. He smiled at her.
"Ready?"
"After you," she replied.
Daniel moved Young out of the way and paused at the door. He replaced the magazine in his pistol with a fresh magazine from one of his inside jacket pockets, giving him thirteen rounds. Glancing through the doorway, he saw Munoz and Melendez crouched behind the corners of the recessed hallway vestibule outside of Suite 1811. Munoz covered the elevator with his suppressed TMP submachine gun, and Melendez watched the long hallway leading to a set of stairs toward the far end of the hotel. Daniel decided against taking the furthest set of stairs. The elevator vestibule was closer, giving them access to a stairwell that led right into the lobby and a quick exit onto the street.
"Stairs by the elevator. Munoz first, then me. Package in the middle. Melendez covers the rear. Move out," he said and stepped into the hallway.
Munoz burst into the hallway with his weapon trained in the direction of the elevators, followed closely by Daniel. They hadn't taken five steps before the elevator bell rang.
"Cover," Daniel said, bumping into Jessica and Young as he stepped back into the vestibule.
The elevator doors opened, and the carriage appeared empty for a moment. A head poked out from the right side, quickly followed by an unsuppressed automatic weapon. Daniel didn't linger long enough to determine what the figure had fired at them. The rounds tore into the drywall and wooden framing around the vestibule, showering the floor and Daniel with fragments. Bullets snapped by as the staccato hammering of the gunfire pounded his ears. Munoz and Petrovich dropped to the ground, simultaneously leaning out to fire their weapons. Their bullets caught the shooter in an attempt to sprint clear of the elevator, throwing him back into the carriage amidst a cascade of mirrored glass shards. Daniel noticed a steady bright red spray pulsing into the air above the body.
A second shooter sprayed bullets down the hallway from a position outside of the elevator, shattering light fixtures and damaging more drywall. Daniel wasn't sure if this shooter had exited the elevator or joined the fight from the stairs. Munoz caught the shooter's head with a short burst of fire from his TMP, dropping the figure to the ground along the left corner of the hallway.