Copyright 2001 R. Christina Lea. All rights reserved. CLICK HERE to return.

Let It Go

The voice crackled over Harris's headset, "Matassoni's in. Pinyan's to the right, Roark to his left. Set yourselves."

Pete Harris checked again to make sure that the chamber in his automatic was loaded. He brushed another cobweb out of his face and shuddered, sure that something was crawling on his neck. He swatted himself several times but, as always, failed to locate the creature.

They were monitoring an empty warehouse that Matassoni liked to use as a meeting place. Most of the task force waited in a neighboring building. Agent Burgess and the technicians were in a van nearby, watching through hidden cameras. Harris, because of his special talents, was in a dusty, spider-haunted tool shed adjoining the main building. No one checked this hiding place because a normal man would be trapped by the padlock on the other side of the door. All signs of Harris's entry had been carefully covered up.

"Rasmussen's guys are moving in," Burgess said. Matassoni was here to meet with a rival gangster about one of their endless territorial disputes. This time, however, Matassoni planned to settle the argument conclusively by assassinating Rasmussen. The Bureau hoped to catch him in the act and, ideally, prevent the murder. Once Matassoni made his intentions obvious, the task force would move in. Harris's primary focus was the bodyguard on Matassoni's left, James Roark.

"Go." The command was soft, as if Agent Burgess was suddenly afraid that he would be overheard. Harris reached out with his left hand and touched the door with his fingertips. He could feel the pressure between his hand and the door. With a gentle push and a mental effort similar to flexing his fingers, he forced the pressure outward, blasting the door to flinders. He moved into the room and raised his gun, aiming at Roark.

Harris shouted, "Federal officer! Drop your weapons!" The mobsters turned their guns from each other and aimed them at Harris. He smirked and fired at Roark as their bullets glanced off his pressure field. Roark flinched as Harris's shots took him in the chest, then snarled and raised his hands. Helixed people were generally hardier than normals, even if they weren't bulletproof. He suspected that Roark would take the whole clip before he went down, but he didn't get a chance to find out.

The air between Roark and Harris suddenly filled with flame. Rasmussen's men screamed along with several of Matassoni's as they were swallowed in roiling waves of orange and red. Harris dove for the ground and pushed his force field as far out as it would go. Those few inches of protection kept the flames off, but the heat was still brutal. Fortunately, Roark wouldn't be able to keep that up. Once the flames stopped, Harris was back up and the two supermen closed the distance between them.

... more to come.

If you enjoyed this story, please consider tipping the author by clicking the PayPal button. Any amount will be appreciated!

Copyright 2001 R. Christina Lea. All rights reserved. CLICK HERE to return.