They'll Call It Treason by Jordon Greene

ready.
    There’s got to be a way out.
    “Drop your weapon Shaw!” Abrams shouted with his pistol up and ready.
    “I didn’t kill Jason… He was my friend.” Ethan held back the quaking. “I had nothing to do with the Congressman’s death.”
    Ethan pleaded to the group of agents that stood behind Abrams. He knew it was pointless, but it needed to be said. It had to be spoken aloud for everyone to hear.
    “Why are you doing this?” Ethan demanded of Abrams.
    From the corner of his eye, Ethan caught sight of a flatbed tow truck making its way down the street. That’s it. He kept his eyes trained on Abrams, but kept sight of the truck as it neared.
    “Put the gun down, Shaw. It doesn’t have to be like this.” Sean feigned negotiation, his tone more consoling than it had been earlier.
    “Yes, it does,” Ethan said as he jumped out the broken window and onto the truck bed as it passed under the bridge. With a painful thud, Ethan’s feet hit the hard metal plating of the tow truck bed. He suppressed a groan as his foot bent awkwardly, rolling him a few feet before coming to a stop.
    He clinched his teeth and regained his footing. Pain exploded through his leg. It almost sent him back to his knees. He flinched as a bullet ricocheted off the metal bed with a spark.
    Ethan jumped to the side, swearing under his breath.  He slung himself off the truck and onto the sidewalk. His injured leg hit with a hard jolt, his body crumpled to the ground. He struggled to shake off the pain as he got back to his feet. Confused onlookers stepped back. Ethan shed his torn and blood-soaked coat and raced forward. He took the next road away from the CNN Center and into a parking lot.
    He chanced a look back. There was no one. He had lost them—but for how long?
    I have to get out of the city.
    Ethan ran through the parking lot from car to car, trying to find one whose owner had made the mistake of leaving their car unlocked. He kept looking over his shoulder, expecting someone to come around the corner and open fire at any moment. Finally he found an unlocked door, a late model Nissan. He jumped in and reached below the steering column to hotwire the car.
    He refused to die today.

CHAPTER 16
    January 29 at 11:00 a.m. EST
    Atlanta, Georgia – CNN Center
     
    The frigid wind engulfed Sean. Shattered glass cracked underfoot. He stood by the broken window pane, a shiver escaping down his back. His earpiece was alive with activity.
    “Shit!” Sean spat, kicking the glass at his feet as Ethan ran out of sight behind the Omni hotel. Sean reported in over his radio, “The suspect escaped onto Marietta heading north. Does anyone have eyes on him?”
    “This is Agent Perez, I’ve got him in sight sir,” a panting voice came over the radio. “In pursuit.”
    Sean waited. Ethan could not be permitted to escape—it would threaten everything. The seconds stretched on, trying his patience.
    “I lost him, sir,” Agent Perez huffed over the radio, “He got away in a silver sedan. Took off down Marietta.”
    “Did you get a tag number?” Sean asked, hopeful.
    “Negative, sir.”
    “Make of the car?” Sean tried again.
    “No, sir,” the agent said, his voice nervous.
    “What the hell did you see?” Sean asked angrily under his breath, keeping the comment off the air. He clenched his fists, trying to master his irritation.
    How did we lose him so easily?
    “Regroup in front of the World Congress Center.” He barked over the radio as he spun around and headed for the stairs. “We’ll grab the license plate from the street camera.”
    The heat of the moment gone, pain pulsed through Sean’s body from the bullet wound in his side. Without slowing, he reached down and pressed his hand firmly to the wound. It was warm and wet. He groaned.
    His fellow agents followed him out of the building. Sean chided himself silently for failing to eliminate Shaw.
    Sean pushed his way through the gathering crowd outside the Congress Center. It