The Long Game
Page 65

 Jennifer Lynn Barnes

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“Anna.”
I heard someone say Anna’s name—a female someone. At first I thought it was Emilia, or maybe even me, but it wasn’t. The stilted, desperate whisper came from the far entrance.
Dr. Clark.
My World Issues teacher looked how I felt—somewhere between gutted and numb. I remembered her lecture on flashbulb memories. I wouldn’t forget a single thing about this day.
I wouldn’t ever be able to forget.
Anna edged toward Dr. Clark as two armed guards advanced on the Secret Service agent. I heard, as much as saw, the agent take a bullet to the shoulder.
He kept fighting.
Anna made it to Dr. Clark. Like one of these mothers who suddenly develops super strength to lift a car off her child, Dr. Clark shoved Anna down behind a bookshelf and bolted into the fray. Taking cover where she could, she made her way to one of the fallen gunmen. She grabbed his weapon, then ducked back into the shelves on the opposite side of the room from us.
Don’t move, I kept telling myself. Can’t move. Stay frozen. Stay still.
I watched my World Issues teacher do what I couldn’t. The Secret Service agent glanced at her as he took down the terrorist who’d been firing at him.
“How many of them are there?” he asked her.
She stepped out of the shelves, gun still in hand. “I don’t know.” She swallowed. “Is help coming? Were you able to call out?”
“Communication is down,” the agent told her. “The other agent on Starlight’s detail is dead. Backup will be here any time, but they won’t be able to get in. This place is a fortress. I have to get her out.”
The guard turned toward the vice president’s daughter. “Anna, are you—”
A shot rang out. An instant later, Anna Hayden’s last remaining Secret Service agent slumped to the floor. Emilia’s second hand joined her first, pressing over her mouth, holding in a scream as tight as she could.
Secret Service. Shot. I couldn’t process what I was seeing, or what it meant. Someone shot him in the head—
Not just someone.
As I watched, Dr. Clark stepped dispassionately over the Secret Service agent’s body. The gun she’d just fired was still in her hand.
CHAPTER 48
My World Issues teacher just shot a Secret Service agent. She just shot Anna’s Secret Service agent.
“Time to come out now, Anna,” Dr. Clark said, sounding exactly like the woman who’d stood at the front of our World Issues class and lectured about everything from elections to acts of international aggression. “I don’t want to have to hurt you. None of us do.” Dr. Clark walked until she was standing directly over Anna. She softened her voice as she looked down at the girl. “None of us want to hurt you,” she repeated, “but we will.”
“W—why?” Anna choked out the word.
“Believe me,” Dr. Clark said, “this was not my first-choice way to spend this morning, but unfortunately, I am not the one calling the shots.”
“You . . .” Anna’s gaze was locked on the dead Secret Service agent. “You killed Dave.”
“He called you Starlight. I take it that was your Secret Service code name?” Dr. Clark’s voice was straightforward, no-nonsense. In other circumstances, it might have been calming. “His job was to protect you. He died protecting you. He would want you to do whatever you have to do to protect yourself now.” Dr. Clark waved the gun at her. “Stand up.”
Anna was crying. She scrambled backward until she hit a wall.
Dr. Clark simply repeated herself. “Stand up, Anna.” She trained her gun on the girl. Anna stood. A moment later, a pair of armed guards came into the room.
“Secure her,” Dr. Clark ordered. “Get her in the room with the other high-value targets. If you have to make an example of someone, do try to make it someone disposable.”
One of the guards grabbed Anna. She screamed, and before I could blink, the guard had hit her over the head with his gun. The vice president’s daughter crumpled to the ground.
“Get her some ice,” Dr. Clark ordered. “We want these kids intact.”
The guard scooped Anna up and gave a brisk nod. “You’re the boss,” he said. His tone seemed to tack a disclaimer onto those words: for now.
Dr. Clark stared the guard down, her gaze unflinching, her finger steady on the trigger of her gun. “We’ll have company any minute. If you’re going to mutiny, I suggest you do it now.”
The guard looked away before she did. The other guard stepped forward, shoving the man who held Anna toward the door.