Carter's Recourse - 19. Chapter 19

"They got them!" one of the police officers stated jumping to his feet; a round of cheers went up in the control room, and Will realized he was on his feet, his heart pounding as relief went through him.

"Hang on!" someone else called out above the din of the control center. "Something's gone wrong."

Will turned in shock, the moment of joy and elation suddenly crashing back down again.

* * *

The Mustang pulled up alongside the police cars; the RCMP Emergency Response Team was out in full force, assembling and waiting for the word to go in. Everything hinged on the JTF-2 strike team that was descending to rescue the kids. Once they were secure, the other units would be able to move in and apprehend Johnson.

Andrew got out of his car, loosening his service automatic in its holster as Jane got out to talk to the ERT commander. And Andrew stared up the street at the hotel, a standard travel lodge two stories and self-contained. That made things easier, two main entrances and a side one; with men securing each there would be nowhere for Johnson to run.

It was a quiet Saturday evening, warm but not overly so. Clear.

Andrew's cell phone rang; he fished it out and answered it.

"Why aren't you with Carter?" the Director-General demanded.

Andrew rolled his eyes and stepped away from the car, Jane flashing him a worried look. He had to give a solid reason for disobeying a direct order, and he sighed and decided to go straight for the truth.

"Because I need to see this through," Andrew said firmly. "That bastard has Carter's name on some kind of hit list and if I don't stop him..."

"And while you're off chasing him, who's protecting Carter from whatever that list was for?" the Director said, sounding rationally calm.

Andrew heaved a sigh, knowing full well that the DG was right. He was being impulsive, and you couldn't be impulsive in a situation like that, people died. He needed to take a step back and breathe. "Yes sir..." he started.

There was a pause on the line. "We have a problem," the Director-General said worriedly.

* * *

Johnson was watching the end of the game. The Braves were losing, so much for their pennant hopes that year. Maybe after the next draft they'd stand a better chance, trade away some of the dead weight they had accumulated over the past season and make a good solid run next year.

He reached down and picked up a slice of pizza he had ordered from room service and bit into it. Glancing at his watch he calculated the truck should be close to the border by now. Give them another ten minutes, providing nothing went wrong, and he would be able to hand them off to the CIA handler that would co-ordinate the recovery operation with the Marine strike force.

He got up off the bed and walked to the windows, years of paranoia always had him periodically check outside. He was used to nations such as Syria and Saudi Arabia where secret police lurked ready to drop on careless spooks who didn't give a damn about their own surroundings. That was one thing he had tried to drill into everyone he had trained over the years, pay attention.

His phone rang as he stared, and absently he opened it. "Go," he commented, it was still early for the truck to report in.

"We got a road block up at the border..." the voice said.

"Damn," Johnson said returning his gaze outside the window; he couldn't see the full street, but he did have a clear view of the darkened storefronts across the street, ones that reflected the part of the street he couldn't see, and the collection of police cars hidden from his direct view.

He closed the cell phone; dropping to pull out his bag and fishing the pistol out of it he checked the magazine and cocked the gun. He crossed to the door and carefully slipped it open and peered out into the hallway. No one there yet; perhaps if he was quick he could slip away before the police managed to get into position.

* * *

"He knows!" Andrew called, his hand wrenching his Walther P99 from its shoulder holster, and he carried it as his training prescribed, pointing straight down. Behind him Jane called out as she too ran after him. The RCMP stared blankly waiting for orders to come through the system that would allow them to follow the two CSIS officers running towards the hotel.

Andrew was too much of a professional to just rush in blindly; he stepped to one side covering Jane as she entered the lobby. The surprised desk clerk stared at the two armed people coming through the doors into the hotel. A couple of people screamed in panic as they ducked and scuttled for cover.

Andrew waved a hand indicating the desk clerk should get down as he made his way to the stairwell. Jane was covering him now, keeping her eyes on the stairwell and the elevator, watching everything like a hawk; each time something moved her own pistol tracked to cover it, lowering again each time she realized it wasn't the man she was after.

Andrew kept his pistol gripped tightly as he carefully glanced to check the stairs, wishing he had had the foresight to put on a tactical vest, or that they had time for the ERT to move in. But by that time Johnson would have slipped through their grasp.

Andrew wasn't about to let that happen. He kept his professional judgment from being clouded by his emotions; he kept his eyes open as Jane moved to cover the other side of the stairwell allowing Andrew to back slowly up it.

He reached the top of the stairs and carefully poked his head around it to get a view up the hallway.

The bullet chipped plaster from the wall causing him to quickly duck back again.

If there had been any doubt about Johnson before that moment, it was gone now. Jane moved up behind him as Andrew leaned around and fired a couple of rounds to cover her as she crossed the hall to the cover of a door way opposite.

There was no return of fire, and Andrew came around tracking the pistol looking for the man who had just shot at him. There was the distinctive sound of a door slamming up the way.

"Fire stairs!" Jane yelled, sprinting up the hall. "You head him off."

Andrew glanced at her and took off back down the stairs taking them two at a time as he reentered the lobby, pointing to the terrified desk clerk. "Back door!" he bellowed.

The clerk waved in the general direction and Andrew was gone again, bursting through them and out into the parking lot as Johnson burst through the doors at the far end of the lot. The sound of sirens heralded the oncoming police cars as they swarmed down on the hotel, too late to stop Johnson as he jumped onto the hood of a car and used it to jump a low fence at the far end of the lot. Andrew fired a couple of shots after him as he sprinted to catch up.

Jane had enough time to see Andrew vault the fence as she made it out of the hotel. She jogged to catch up, pausing when she climbed the fence to look around the back lot to the housing supply store at the lumber on pallets and other junk used in construction. She swore as she dropped to the asphalt on the far side, wondering how long it would be till the ERT clued into where they had gone.

Andrew moved through the yard cautiously, keeping his eyes open. There were plenty of places to hide in the darkened supply yard, and he glanced back worriedly, wondering where Jane was. She was out there, he knew that much, but the fact was he couldn't co-ordinate with her without giving away his own position.

He came around a stack of benches, sweeping the pistol from side to side as he tried to pierce the gloom, swallowing against the dryness in his throat as he crept quietly forward. Johnson was also out there, somewhere. Desperate men were always dangerous ones, and if he wasn't careful he'd be the one to end up dead.

He'd never been in a situation like this before. Chasing suspects was up to the police; he was trained for every eventuality, but to actually find himself almost alone with an armed fugitive was a rare occurrence. It was something he had never truly expected, but then everything about the last few days had been an example of the unexpected.

He chastised himself for letting his mind wander; he needed to stay focused as he moved towards the far end of the lot. A rattle caused him to turn around, aiming the gun at the shadows and slowly advancing in a short shuffle gripping the pistol with both hands firmly.

"Come out!" he called out sharply.

He came forward again, nervously reaching out a hand to lift the corner of a tarp; he grasped it and pulled stepping back and lifting the pistol.

The cat hissed at him, bolting for the only opening past him and Andrew turned to follow it with his eyes. That turn was the only thing that saved his life.

The shot rang out, and he hit the ground, feeling the lancing pain in his shoulder.

* * *

Johnson didn't have time to check if the young CSIS officer was dead; it really didn't bother him if the guy was or not, there was still another one out there, no doubt closing on him after hearing that shot.

He didn't have time for the little game of hide and seek, the police were no doubt moving into position to surround him again, and he had no intention of letting them close a net around him.

He found the gate to the front of the supply yard, and used a couple of log pallets to get him up and over it and on the ground running into the darkness as police cruisers careened to secure the yard behind him.

He smiled to himself as he stopped to catch his breath; slipping his pistol back into his pocket he stepped out into the main street glancing back to where all the police officers were securing the hotel. He smiled grimly as he hopped onto a bus and took his seat and relaxed, confident that he had managed to get away again.

* * *

"What's wrong?" Will pressed his hands flat on the surface of her desk, staring levelly at the Inspector.

She was busy talking into her phone and held up her hand to ward Will off; confusion had broken out in the police control center, officers hurrying to and fro trying to co-ordinate with their units in the field. From what Will could understand there were two operations going on. The kids were safe, Peter was safe. But something had gone seriously wrong with the second operation.

"What do you mean you can't find him, he has to be there," the Inspector growled into her phone. "If he gets away..."

Will stepped back to give her room. He realized his being there was at her bequest, and the last thing he wanted to do was get in her way, despite the burning questions he had. He stared up at the wall screens that showed units descending to encircle a hardware store.

"Officer down," someone called out from the speakers.

"Confirmed," the police officer monitoring the situation said touching his ear piece. "We have an officer shot in the lot, suspect escaped on foot..." The officer shook his head, "We lost him."

"Shit!" the Inspector intoned, slamming down her own phone. "Get a paramedic over there now, do we know who was shot?"

"No info yet," the monitoring officer replied, resting his hand on his earpiece.

"Well, get an APB out on our suspect." She ordered as she turned to Will, "Mister Carter, I'm afraid I am going to have to ask you to leave."

He thumbed behind him, "Is it alright if I tell...?"

The Inspector nodded, returning to her problems as Will slipped from the room and returned to the main situation room where Hesston and his men were pacing impatiently and Mrs. McCormick sat looking worried.

Will swallowed, standing in the doorway, trying to find the words to do justice to the sense of relief flooding through him. Peter was safe, more importantly he was unharmed and on his way home. He couldn't begin to describe how he felt, but he knew he had a responsibility to the others who had shared his earlier worry.

"They found them," he said finally finding his voice.

Hesston turned as Mrs. McCormick rose to her feet, both looking at him.

"They just," he jerked his thumb behind him, "they were just recovered by the police just minutes ago..."

Mrs. McCormick worked her jaw silently, tears welling up in her eyes. And Will nodded, "They're unhurt and on their way back here."

"Thank God," Hesston said, collapsing back into his chair as Mrs. McCormick crossed the floor to embrace Will, unable to hold her tears of relief in any longer.

* * *

West stood off to one side watching in relief as Will announced that Peter was safe. And he realized how afraid he'd been, afraid to lose the one thing that had kept him sane. He was the one out there, in danger, and he had never fully considered what it had been like for the people that cared about him, worrying if he was alive or dead. Waiting for news.

He swallowed, realizing how inconsiderate he was being. In his rush to deal with his own internal issues he had forgotten that there were people out there that were sitting, worrying, and waiting for him.

He slipped from the room, working through the building till he found a secluded phone, picking it up he dialed, sitting down behind the empty desk, biting his lip nervously as the phone rang.

"Hello?" the voice asked cautiously on the other end of the line.

"H-hi..." he stammered, realizing that he was nervous, and he swallowed to clear the knot in his throat and find his voice again, "Hi mom..."

"West-?" she asked hopefully.

"Yeah," he said curling his hands around the phone and closing his eyes, glad to just hear her voice, "it's me..."

"Jonathan!" she called, "Jonathan, quickly it's West..."

His father's gruff voice resounded on the other line, "West?"

"Yeah," the tired young soldier said, smiling at the reassuring sound of the two voices.

"Where are you?" his father asked. "It says here you're calling from a police station."

"I'm in Ottawa..." he said quietly. "Look, Mom, Dad... I was wondering... I only have a couple of days...but can I spend them at home?"

"Of course you can!" his mother insisted, sounding relieved. "Do you need your father to come and get you?"

West smiled, "Yeah..." realizing how much he missed his family.