+18 - eps.33-35 - The shadow of an old foe leaves Gillian fighting for her life. And as the team hunts down the attacker, Brock and Gillian run out of time to come to terms with their feelings for each other. BONUS TRACK: episode 36 - the breakfast
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**picture: Skorpion VZ-61
The alarm from the computer set off about one a.m. Tanya's hand emerged from under the comforter, patting through air until it found the nightstand. A couple of pats later she turned on the lamp and found her glasses, mandatory requirements to lower the comforter down to her chin. With her glasses on, she stretched out her arm to reach the other side of the bed and pull the computer closer. A moment after opening the lid, she put on her earphones and started a conference call.
Only when she had the whole team online, she said, "Kyle's phone is on. The GPS shows him moving north down Columbia Road. He just crossed the train rail outta Grove Hall."
"We're closer," said Hank, as Taylor started his car.
"We've moving, too," said Ron from Banks' car.
"Wait," said Tanya, eyes on her screen. "He turned left, to the west. He seems to be heading to Upham's Corner station."
"They're coming for me," Fred grunted.
"Guys, step on the gas. But don't use lights or sirens," said Russell, practicing what he preached.
"Fred, they won't go anywhere near you with the men in black parked out your door," said Banks.
"I'll send'em away," replied Fred.
"Lads, remember we still have nothing solid on them," said Aldana, a hand on the dash of Russell's car. "We can't bring them in for driving around."
The others grunted their agreement.
"Where is he now?" asked Hanks.
"Five streets away from Fred's place." Tanya kept her eyes on the screen, showing one red dot and three blue dots moving over a satellite map. They were all converging toward Upham's Corner. She felt tempted to call Brock, but that would wake Gillian up, and the girl didn't want to upset her over something she could do nothing about.
Fred was able to convince his detail to get out of sight for five minutes, in order to lure the subjects closer. He hurried back in, made sure Anna had gotten up and to the kitchen, where no stray bullet could reach her, and strode out again. He closed the door behind him and checked the load of his Skorpion VZ-61. It'd been a while since he'd last used it, but the grasp still felt custom-made for his hand. It was light, fast and deadly. That was exactly why Fred had chosen it. Nobody with a little survival instinct would dare to stand before its barrel.
"Two streets away," Tanya warned. "They just turned into your street, Fred."
"Bring it on," grunted the sniper, crouching in the shadows of his porch. "Ron, take East Cottage. Hank, you take Longmeadow."
"Got it, we'll cut them off."
"Only if necessary."
Everybody breathed deep at Fred's sharp correction. He stayed at the dark porch, waiting, his eyes scanning the vacant lot across the street. When he heard the car coming closer, he glanced out of the porch, at the corner. There they were, the solitary headlights driving down his street in no hurry.
"They're here," he whispered.
"Aren't they a street away?" asked Tanya.
The picture was too clear in Ron's mind for his guts. "Shit, Fred! Go back inside!" he said, motioning for Banks to speed up.
"What're you doing, Fred?" asked Russell, alarmed.
"Getting some evidence." Before they could argue, Fred added, "Ron, Hank, don't show up until I tell you so."
"Careful, you crazy bastard," grunted Hank.
The car drove past Longmeadow Street and slowed down. Fred tightened his grip on the Skorpion butt and strode down the few steps of his porch and up to the curb.
"Hank, block the corner. Lights off," he said, holding his phone with his spare hand.
The car drove even slower. Behind it, Taylor's car stopped in the middle of the street. Taylor jumped out and rested his Glock on the top of his car, pointing at the other vehicle like Hank did through the passenger window.
Fred aimed in plain sight both the Skorpion and his phone at the car, recording a video of it. He could see three heads in the dark cockpit.
They didn't stop. They drove deliberately slow right in front of him. From the passenger sit, Joey pulled down his bandana to show his mocking smirk and pointed his fingers at Fred, mimicking to shoot him.
"Let'em go," said Fred, turning to follow the car as it drove away at the same defying low speed.
"What?" snarled Banks.
"You're still tracking them, T?"
"Yeah," mumbled the girl in a thread of voice, still shaken at the risk Fred had taken.
"Then let'em go," he repeated. "Hank, can you pick me up?"
Before Taylor could get back in the car, a black SUV braked right at his bumper and two federal agents hurried out, drawn Glocks, demanding identifications.
"As soon as we get rid of your brainless detail," replied Hank, getting out of the car with his badge in hand, while Taylor showed his.
Banks' car turned around the other corner, police lights on now, and stopped only enough for Fred to get in the backseat. The sniper was still closing the door when Banks drove on toward Taylor.
"They went the other way, Bob," said Ron, cautious.
"If your fed fellas try to mess with my detective, I'm arresting you. Both."
