Cross Hairs by Jack Patterson Page B
Authors: Jack Patterson
Tags: Fiction, thriller, Suspense, adventure, Crime, Mystery, Nora Roberts, Action, Hard-Boiled, Reporter, trilogy, Deception, james patterson, conspiracy, Lee Child, New York Times bestseller, new release, mystery and suspense, award winning, award, fbi, &NEW, Stephen King, bestselling, cj lyons, Joshua Graham, George R.R. Martin, like John Grisham, John Grisham, popular, Steig Larson, Kindle eBook, like James Patterson, like Christine Kling, deal, newspaper, John Locke, David Baldacci, similar to Dean Koontz, similar to Nora Roberts, winning, like Aaron Patterson, Aaron Patterson, William Landay, punishment, five star review, Millennium, top rated, kindle ebooks, like Lee Child, Andrew E. Kaufman, New York Times best seller, Cal Murphy, like David Baldacci, 5 star review, Amazon eBook, national award-winning, like Joshua Graham, The Girl who Kicked the Hornets Nest, Dean Koontz, Christine Kling, similar to James Patterson, like Dean Koontz, Stieg Larsson, 5 stars, Steig Larsson, similar to Joshua Graham, similar to John Grisham, Kirk Russell, Dani Amore, Mary Higgins Clark, five stars, similar to John Locke, like William Landay, like Dani Amore, like John Locke, like Nora Roberts
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working on a story that could expose a deep level of corruption? Cal had questioned after being told to stand down. And Guy knew it was a tough directive to follow. After all, stories like these were what journalists dreamed about at night while climbing into bed after eating a TV dinner all alone. At least, it was what Guy used to dream about.
Guy knew Cal would never stop pursuing this story. Something in the seasoned newspaperman’s gut told him that Cal wasn’t just concocting a cockamamie conspiracy theory. He only hoped Cal’s pursuit of the truth wouldn’t end in his death.
CHAPTER 33
CAL HEARD THE SHOT and felt the sting in his right arm almost simultaneously. He had never been shot before, nor had he imagined the searing pain that would accompany a bullet barreling into his tricep. It was such a sharp pain that it sent him sprawling toward the ground as he half tripped and half dove, hoping to avoid any other bullets whizzing his way.
Kelly dove for the ground as well. Lying on her stomach a few feet from Cal, she inched her way toward Cal while remaining on her belly. When she reached him, she frantically tried to get Cal to move. It was only about 15 yards to the dock, which had an open bay at the moment. With a gunfight breaking out, it was unlikely to stay open for long.
“Come on, Cal. We’ve got to move!”
Cal nodded, grimacing at the pain and the sight of blood gushing from his arm, despite pressure from his left hand. He looked more like a butcher than a reporter.
Two more bullets zipped in their direction, both off target.
Cal and Kelly scrambled for the open bay door. It took a few seconds for their eyes to adjust from the bright Idaho sunlight to the dimly lit warehouse space that was surprisingly less full than Cal anticipated. The back of the warehouse was empty and stretched into darkness for at least 300 yards. It was quickly looking like a dead end when it came to finding a place for cover.
Stacks of empty wooden pallets lined the back wall of the facility, and there was a small janitor’s closet about 30 yards away.
Still no sign of anyone from inside the facility.
Cal recognized his two less-than-desirable choices: make a run for the racks and hide on top of a shelf, or hide in the janitor’s closet. The burning sensation in Cal’s arm along with the close proximity of the janitor’s closet made Cal’s decision easy.
***
Cloverdale security fanned out across the building looking for two suspects. Mel Davis, head of Cloverdale’s security operation, received a phone call from one of the executives about a possible perimeter violation. A man and a woman were headed for their facility and they didn’t have good intentions, at least that’s what Davis was told.
The order was shoot to kill.
While he didn’t mind the healthy paycheck, Mel often questioned why there was such tight security at a mid-level marketing company. Whenever he voiced his concern, he was silenced by the rehearsed chorus of managers telling him that corporate espionage is real—and if you don’t take proactive steps to stop it, it will stop you.
Mel just nodded and did what he was told. This wasn’t the first time he had shoot-to-kill orders, but he doubted he could pull the trigger if ever faced with one of these corporate spies.
***
From within the janitor’s closet, Cal and Kelly heard the footsteps of presumed security guards racing around the building in search of them. They didn’t dare speak, much less breathe.
They heard voices shouting out instructions about how they were going to sweep the facility. Then Cal heard something that lodged a lump in his throat. It was the phrase “shoot to kill.”
He looked at Kelly, and, even in the darkness of a compact janitor’s closet, he could see the terror in her eyes.
Cal had been careful not to bleed on the warehouse floor in order to prevent establishing an identifiable trail of blood. Kelly had added her left hand for additional
Guy knew Cal would never stop pursuing this story. Something in the seasoned newspaperman’s gut told him that Cal wasn’t just concocting a cockamamie conspiracy theory. He only hoped Cal’s pursuit of the truth wouldn’t end in his death.
CHAPTER 33
CAL HEARD THE SHOT and felt the sting in his right arm almost simultaneously. He had never been shot before, nor had he imagined the searing pain that would accompany a bullet barreling into his tricep. It was such a sharp pain that it sent him sprawling toward the ground as he half tripped and half dove, hoping to avoid any other bullets whizzing his way.
Kelly dove for the ground as well. Lying on her stomach a few feet from Cal, she inched her way toward Cal while remaining on her belly. When she reached him, she frantically tried to get Cal to move. It was only about 15 yards to the dock, which had an open bay at the moment. With a gunfight breaking out, it was unlikely to stay open for long.
“Come on, Cal. We’ve got to move!”
Cal nodded, grimacing at the pain and the sight of blood gushing from his arm, despite pressure from his left hand. He looked more like a butcher than a reporter.
Two more bullets zipped in their direction, both off target.
Cal and Kelly scrambled for the open bay door. It took a few seconds for their eyes to adjust from the bright Idaho sunlight to the dimly lit warehouse space that was surprisingly less full than Cal anticipated. The back of the warehouse was empty and stretched into darkness for at least 300 yards. It was quickly looking like a dead end when it came to finding a place for cover.
Stacks of empty wooden pallets lined the back wall of the facility, and there was a small janitor’s closet about 30 yards away.
Still no sign of anyone from inside the facility.
Cal recognized his two less-than-desirable choices: make a run for the racks and hide on top of a shelf, or hide in the janitor’s closet. The burning sensation in Cal’s arm along with the close proximity of the janitor’s closet made Cal’s decision easy.
***
Cloverdale security fanned out across the building looking for two suspects. Mel Davis, head of Cloverdale’s security operation, received a phone call from one of the executives about a possible perimeter violation. A man and a woman were headed for their facility and they didn’t have good intentions, at least that’s what Davis was told.
The order was shoot to kill.
While he didn’t mind the healthy paycheck, Mel often questioned why there was such tight security at a mid-level marketing company. Whenever he voiced his concern, he was silenced by the rehearsed chorus of managers telling him that corporate espionage is real—and if you don’t take proactive steps to stop it, it will stop you.
Mel just nodded and did what he was told. This wasn’t the first time he had shoot-to-kill orders, but he doubted he could pull the trigger if ever faced with one of these corporate spies.
***
From within the janitor’s closet, Cal and Kelly heard the footsteps of presumed security guards racing around the building in search of them. They didn’t dare speak, much less breathe.
They heard voices shouting out instructions about how they were going to sweep the facility. Then Cal heard something that lodged a lump in his throat. It was the phrase “shoot to kill.”
He looked at Kelly, and, even in the darkness of a compact janitor’s closet, he could see the terror in her eyes.
Cal had been careful not to bleed on the warehouse floor in order to prevent establishing an identifiable trail of blood. Kelly had added her left hand for additional
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