The Midnight Watch: A Sigma Force Short Story Read Online Free

Dr. Gutierrez huddled at his shoulder. Beads of sweat pebbled her forehead, while her lips were fixed in a grimace of fear. They were sitting ducks up here.
    Kowalski rubbed the keycard’s magnetic strip over the sleeve of his jacket. “Sometimes these old readers are finicky.”
    God, I hope that’s it.
    A shout rose from below as the enemy abandoned any furtiveness.
    Jason swung to the side and used the muzzle of his gun to shatter the lone bulb in its cage. Darkness fell around them, offering some shelter. The kid pulled the woman low, while pointing his gun toward the stairs. He fired once to encourage their pursuers to proceed more cautiously.
    Kowalski swiped his card again.
    C’mon, Elizabeth, don’t let me down.
    Despite his silent plea, the tiny light remained red.
    What the hell!
    He fingered the card, wondering if he didn’t deserve this fate. But under his fingertips, he realized the magnetic strip was on the wrong side. In the dark, he had the card turned around the wrong way.
    He flipped the card, jammed it through the reader, and watched the light flash to green, accompanied by a gratifying roll of tumblers. He grabbed the handle and shoved the door open.
    They all piled into the hallway. Kowalski slammed the door behind them, then leaned against it with relief. Muffled shots rang out from the far side, ricocheting brightly off the steel, reminding them they had no time to relish this small victory.
    “We need to keep going,” Jason warned. “There’s no telling how many more might be out here.”
    Kowalski nodded. “Follow me.”
    He pushed off the door and ran down the hall to a stairwell. It was the same one he and Jason had used to reach the basement level. They fled back up to the side exit. Kowalski had his Desert Eagle in hand again, and he waved Jason and Dr. Gutierrez through the door as he propped it open and covered them. He watched the parking lot for any sign of an ambush, while listening with an ear cocked for any sound of pursuit from within the museum.
    The Jeep stood only a handful of yards away. Jason got the young woman into the front passenger seat, then hopped onto the rear bench. The kid stood with his back against the roll bar and raised his SIG Sauer, swiveling it to cover the lot.
    “Go!” Jason ordered.
    Kowalski rolled away from the door, letting it close behind him, and sprinted around the front of the Jeep to reach the driver’s side. As he climbed in, he heard a screaming whine rise from behind the museum. He remembered Jason saying that the alarm had been tripped from a broken window back there.
    As Kowalski fumbled the key into the ignition, he watched a single headlight come careening around the far corner into the parking lot. It was a motorcycle, bearing two helmeted riders. The one in the rear rose high in his seat, lifting a rifle to his shoulder.
    Kowalski twisted the key, and the engine coughed and died.
    A rifle blast exploded across the quiet night.
    The windshield fractured.
    Son of a bitch. . .
    Jason returned fire from the back, shooting over the roll bar. Kowalski pumped the accelerator once, then tried the key again, suddenly very worried about his wiring job on the ignition coil. But the engine coughed—then caught with a jolt of the frame, growling roughly.
    Good enough .
    He yanked them into reverse, then shoved his boot to the floor. The Jeep sped backward, earning a hard oof from Jason as the roll bar slammed into his chest. But the kid’s assault had succeeded in driving the motorcycle to the side, forcing the enemy to zigzag through a copse of trees flanking 12th Street.
    Taking advantage of the moment, Kowalski yelled, “Hold tight!” and yanked hard on the wheel.
    The Jeep jackknifed around.
    Jason hugged the roll bar with one arm to keep his footing.
    Dr. Gutierrez slid from her seat into Kowalski’s side, but he still managed to shift into first. He sped them away, aiming for Madison Drive, which ran along the front of the