Divide & Conquer (Cut & Run #4)(75)
Author: Abigail Roux

Movement from Ty drew Zanes eyes, and when he glanced to his side at Ty, a sudden and unexpected thrill ran through him. Ty had come to attention, body taut in a smart salute. His jaw was tight and his eyes were unreadable, staring ahead from the shadow of his white cover. He stood straight and tall, every ounce of him perfect and rigid, the bright colors and harsh white of his uniform in sharp contrast to the washed-out sepia of the day. Zane didnt think hed ever seen anything more incredible and heart-wrenching than Ty right then. The bagpipes played on, a soundtrack to the very picture of self-sacrifice and loyalty.

Zanes thoughts inexplicably landed on Elias Sanchez, a man hed never met, a member of Tys Marine Recon team who had also joined the Bureau. Sanchez had died in the line of duty, murdered by a fellow agent turned serial killer. Sanchez would have had a funeral like this, with the honor guard and the gun salute, with men and women in pristine uniforms standing in silent respect for the dead. As Ty stood now. How many times had Ty done this, said goodbye to a fallen comrade in that uniform?

Zane dropped his gaze, giving his partner what modicum of privacy was possible. He didnt need to continue staring. The sight would be forever burned in his memory.

He blinked when movement from his far right caught his attention. Hed been without his sight long enough that he was still overreacting to quick, unexpected movements. This was out of place, hurried, and he turned his chin to look.

A young man, late teens, Zane suspected, with messily styled blond hair, was pushing his way through the crowd, obviously searching for someone in particular. The music covered any noise he was making. The kid stopped to speak to a woman, who looked around, made eye contact with Zane, and pointed right at him. Zane blinked as the kid made a beeline for him. He was fairly sure hed never seen the young man before.

Zane was aware of a change in Ty, as if hed sensed Zanes attention, but he didnt move, still saluting the flag as it was folded. Zane glanced at him, then watched the kid fumble toward them.

He walked right up to Zane like he knew him. Zane had to lean over a little to hear him over the bagpipes and the people who had started singing. “You have to get everyone out of here. Pierce is crazy,” the kid said, practically hyperventilating, “and hes coming with a bomb.”

Zane stared at him hard for a few heartbeats, then turned to see if Ty had heard. Ty met his eyes, hand dropping as if in slow motion, body already tensing and gears already turning—he was trying to decide the best way to sound the alarm without causing a mass panic, and Zane wasnt sure it would be possible.

“Do you know where he is?” Zane asked the boy. If this kid knew Zane and had a connection to Pierce, the chance of this being legit was way too high.

“No, I got out just before him. I couldnt let him do it.” The kid looked about to break into tears. “But I couldnt stop him. I was afraid.” Zane grasped his shoulder for a moment before turning to Ty.

“The families?” Zane bit off, noting that the agents gathered around them had focused on the disturbance. Ty turned and whispered to the man beside him, then moved to speak to another, trying to get word around quickly. Then a commotion broke out on the other side of the crowd.

“Its him,” the kid said, pointing, voice high with terror. With his height, Zane saw over crowds better than most, and he zeroed in on a person pushing through the civilians gathered by the family under the awning. Zane didnt wait.

“Bomb! Down!” he yelled harshly, trying to shove through the crowd while pulling his Glock and focusing on the young man he recognized as Pierce Sutton.

His words were met with complete stasis. For crucial seconds, no one moved. No one seemed to comprehend. Then time kicked into fast forward, and the panic and comprehension crashed through the crowd on a wave as agents pulled their weapons and people hit the ground.

Zane stopped and raised his gun. Pierce bulled his way toward the casket, clambered up on the side rail to snatch the tightly folded American flag in one hand, and he waved it around, his face twisted into a snarl, before throwing it to the ground and jumping off the casket to land on it with two booted feet.

“Son of a bitch!” Ty growled from beside Zane. Zane saw his chance as Pierce deliberately reached into his trenchcoat: the civilians had cleared out, the minister ducked behind a nearby oak tree, and he had a few seconds for a clear shot.

He wasnt the only one who took it. A volley of bullets tore into Pierce Sutton before he could utter a word, sending his body jerking like a puppet on slashed strings to the ground.

Time slowed. Silence reigned again. Several heartbeats, and then the frozen tableau broke. Civilians milled about in confusion, and Bureau agents fanned out and around the gravesite, checking for further threats as the family gathered together, most of them sobbing angrily.

As another agent needlessly checked for a pulse, Zane stopped to stand next to the body of the young man who had masterminded bank robberies amounting to hundreds of thousands of dollars in losses, deliberately promoted ill will and hatred in the city, and caused tens of millions of dollars in damages and destroyed property in four separate bombings that had also resulted in scores of injuries and three deaths.

When Lydia Reeves had died, Pierce Sutton had become a dead man walking. Zane holstered his gun as people started drifting closer. The cacophony that utterly destroyed the quiet peace of the cemetery was giving him a headache. Hed noticed that being blind had by necessity sharpened his hearing, and now he was paying for it. Children sobbing, raised and nervous voices chattering, law enforcement vehicles arriving with sirens on, Bureau agents yelling out perimeter checks, and to top it off, an unexpected boom of thunder echoing from the roiling clouds overhead.

Ty stopped beside him, then bent down to pluck the flag from under the dead kids foot. “Crime scene, Grady,” someone reminded breathlessly. “Dont care,” Ty shot back as he saved the flag.

Zane was pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to ward off the pain, when he heard a nagging sound that didnt fit. Frowning, he looked around for a cart or machine nearby. He wasnt wearing a watch. But he could just barely hear a measured clicking.

Zanes chest seized, and he looked down at the body as Ty rescued the flag. A flash of metal mostly covered by the trenchcoat caught his eye, and a streak of pure fear burned through him as he saw a wireless timing mechanism with a tiny red blinking light in Pierces lifeless hand.

Ticking. Zane could hear ticking. He dropped to one knee, yanked at the coat to uncover the hand holding the timer, then hurriedly patted down the trench until his fingers hit something hard, a bulge at the waistband. He jerked the thick sweatshirt up. For once, Zane didnt stop to consider his options or think through scenarios or figure the percentages.