Ramirez.
Above their heads, a security camera rotated down so it was pointed at them. Then the door swung open, revealing a man with a hoop dan-gling from his nose, like a bull’s ring. What was supposed to be a dragon peered out from his biceps, but it looked more like an obese lizard. He regarded Tank suspiciously, then spoke in rough-accented English. “What do you want?”
“Dr. Ramirez?” Cameron asked.
“That’s not him,” Rex said.
“No, I’m not el doctor. I just come to shut off la electricidad. He leave to wander around.” He made a sweeping gesture with his arm, indicating the surrounding neighborhood.
“Well, it’s extremely important that we find him tod—” The door slammed shut in Rex’s face. He turned to Cameron. “O-kay. Now what?”
“What are our choices? We search for him. You know what he looks like, right?”
“Yes,” Rex said, regarding the shady neighborhood around them ten-tatively.
“We’ll sweep the area block by block, checking the bars and parks.”
They tediously searched the neighborhood, sticking together, walking up and down the decrepit streets, peering at the faces of passing men. Cameron called in to Derek on her transmitter, updating him on the situ-ation and obtaining clearance to return late.
They passed a junk heap and a burning car. Up ahead, three shirtless men, their skin baked dark brown, were sitting on an overturned bathtub, throwing beer bottles at a wounded street dog. The dog lay on its side across the street, bleeding from a gash in its neck. Cameron noticed the dog’s broken back leg, bent at a ninety-degree angle midway up the femur. She quickly fought away her anger.
“Here’s where you earn your keep,” Rex said, stepping between Cameron and Tank as they headed toward the men. The men, busy tor-menting the dog, ignored them.
“¡Oye, perro callegero!” one of the men cried, hurling a brick at it. The brick shattered on the ground near the dog’s head, sending splinters across its face. The dog struggled to move away, whimpering.
Tank clenched his jaw, his hands tightening into fists. Noticing the change in his demeanor, Cameron placed a hand on his back, moving him forward. “Not now,” she said. “This isn’t on our list of concerns.”
The men were digging in the rubble for more bricks to throw. Cameron glanced nervously at Tank. She could see his arms were flexed even through his shirt. Rex had also taken note of Tank’s growing anger. He fiddled nervously with his Panama, rubbing the rim with his thumbs.
As they passed the three men, Tank turned in time to see another brick flying at the dog. It struck the dog in its stomach, and it let loose with a series of pained yelps, unable to crawl away. Tank broke from Cameron and Rex and faced the men. Cameron grabbed his shoulder, but he shook her loose.
“What are you doing?” Rex yelled after him.
The men turned to face Tank, smacking their hands together to rid them of dust. One of them pulled a makeshift blade from the back of his trousers. When Tank was about fifteen yards away from the men, Cameron caught up to him, blocking him with her body.
The men howled with laughter, doubling over, clearly amused by the sight of an enormous man being restrained by a woman. One of the men imitated Cameron, standing with his hands on his hips and adding in high-pitched nagging for good measure.
Tank glared at Cameron, the first time he’d ever looked at her angrily. Anyone else he might have struck. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?” she said, her voice eerily calm.
Tank moved to step around her. Cameron pulled her Sig Sauer from the band of her pants and he stopped dead in his tracks.
She raised the pistol at the dog, took careful aim, and delivered a bul-let to its skull. The crack of the gunshot echoed up the empty street. The dog stopped whimpering. The men were silent.
“This is not our objective,” Cameron said, her voice tight. She turned, grabbed Rex
Above their heads, a security camera rotated down so it was pointed at them. Then the door swung open, revealing a man with a hoop dan-gling from his nose, like a bull’s ring. What was supposed to be a dragon peered out from his biceps, but it looked more like an obese lizard. He regarded Tank suspiciously, then spoke in rough-accented English. “What do you want?”
“Dr. Ramirez?” Cameron asked.
“That’s not him,” Rex said.
“No, I’m not el doctor. I just come to shut off la electricidad. He leave to wander around.” He made a sweeping gesture with his arm, indicating the surrounding neighborhood.
“Well, it’s extremely important that we find him tod—” The door slammed shut in Rex’s face. He turned to Cameron. “O-kay. Now what?”
“What are our choices? We search for him. You know what he looks like, right?”
“Yes,” Rex said, regarding the shady neighborhood around them ten-tatively.
“We’ll sweep the area block by block, checking the bars and parks.”
They tediously searched the neighborhood, sticking together, walking up and down the decrepit streets, peering at the faces of passing men. Cameron called in to Derek on her transmitter, updating him on the situ-ation and obtaining clearance to return late.
They passed a junk heap and a burning car. Up ahead, three shirtless men, their skin baked dark brown, were sitting on an overturned bathtub, throwing beer bottles at a wounded street dog. The dog lay on its side across the street, bleeding from a gash in its neck. Cameron noticed the dog’s broken back leg, bent at a ninety-degree angle midway up the femur. She quickly fought away her anger.
“Here’s where you earn your keep,” Rex said, stepping between Cameron and Tank as they headed toward the men. The men, busy tor-menting the dog, ignored them.
“¡Oye, perro callegero!” one of the men cried, hurling a brick at it. The brick shattered on the ground near the dog’s head, sending splinters across its face. The dog struggled to move away, whimpering.
Tank clenched his jaw, his hands tightening into fists. Noticing the change in his demeanor, Cameron placed a hand on his back, moving him forward. “Not now,” she said. “This isn’t on our list of concerns.”
The men were digging in the rubble for more bricks to throw. Cameron glanced nervously at Tank. She could see his arms were flexed even through his shirt. Rex had also taken note of Tank’s growing anger. He fiddled nervously with his Panama, rubbing the rim with his thumbs.
As they passed the three men, Tank turned in time to see another brick flying at the dog. It struck the dog in its stomach, and it let loose with a series of pained yelps, unable to crawl away. Tank broke from Cameron and Rex and faced the men. Cameron grabbed his shoulder, but he shook her loose.
“What are you doing?” Rex yelled after him.
The men turned to face Tank, smacking their hands together to rid them of dust. One of them pulled a makeshift blade from the back of his trousers. When Tank was about fifteen yards away from the men, Cameron caught up to him, blocking him with her body.
The men howled with laughter, doubling over, clearly amused by the sight of an enormous man being restrained by a woman. One of the men imitated Cameron, standing with his hands on his hips and adding in high-pitched nagging for good measure.
Tank glared at Cameron, the first time he’d ever looked at her angrily. Anyone else he might have struck. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?” she said, her voice eerily calm.
Tank moved to step around her. Cameron pulled her Sig Sauer from the band of her pants and he stopped dead in his tracks.
She raised the pistol at the dog, took careful aim, and delivered a bul-let to its skull. The crack of the gunshot echoed up the empty street. The dog stopped whimpering. The men were silent.
“This is not our objective,” Cameron said, her voice tight. She turned, grabbed Rex
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