They'll Call It Treason by Jordon Greene Page B

corner into the next room. It was as bare as the previous. He back-tracked to the hall and took his next station by the second to last door. He pressed the door open and swept the room.
    This room was as deserted as the others. Ethan spotted some discarded food wrappers and metal drink cans on the floor. Near the large windows to his right was something the other rooms did not have: a second door. Ethan imagined it must lead to some high dollar executive’s future office. He was probably standing in the secretary’s office right now.
    Ethan stopped. He thought he heard movement in the next room.  He listened, waiting for more. Nothing. He progressed forward carefully, slowly moving toward the door.
    Crackle. Ethan jerked his foot back as the noise echoed through the silence. He lifted his foot carefully, trying to elicit as little noise as possible from the cheese crackers under his foot.
    Dammit!
    In the next room he heard more movement, a voice and then the light thumping of footsteps on the concrete floor. Ethan let his heart settle and advanced deliberately toward the door. He froze as the door opened before he reached it, his Glock aimed at chest level, waiting.
    Abrams stepped through and immediately saw Ethan. He swung his hands up, “It’s just me.”
    Ethan relaxed faintly, only marginally lowering his pistol, “Who were you talking to?”
    “Who was I talking to?” Sean asked. “No one. I was just cursing my luck. It would be on my watch that something shitty like this comes up.” As an afterthought Sean added, “It’s clear though, and it’s the last room on this level facing the Congress Center.”
    Ethan acknowledged Abrams, attempting a quick look around Sean as the door latched shut. Nothing. Satisfied Ethan followed Sean out into the hallway where Jason met them.
    “All’s clear Ethan. All the others teams have reported in and are moving back to the Congress Center.”
    Ethan was both relieved and disappointed at the same time. They had been had by a drunk. Or whoever was behind that synthesized voice had moved a step ahead. Either way the Congressman was all right.
    He wanted to catch a break in the case so badly. Maybe he had let his heart get in the way. What am I missing?
    ”My teams do their job,” Sean told Ethan, his aggravation unmasked. Placing his hand to his ear, Sean gave the green light. “All clear, move the Package.”
    Turning to Jason and Ethan, he asserted his jurisdiction, “Let’s get down there and make sure everything goes smoothly from here on out. We’re done here.”
    Ethan held back his objection. Sean had been right about the floor. It was clear. Maybe it was time he trusted him.
    As Jason reached the door he looked back at Ethan. “Maybe it was just a false alarm. Maybe Russell really was just drunk.”
    “Or they’re…”
    Without warning a gunshot bellowed through the hollow space. A high caliber rifle, a sniper. Ethan froze in place.
    “The Package has been hit! I repeat: the package has been hit,” the agent in command on the ground shouted into the radio.
    “That came from down the hall,” Jason asserted, bewildered.

CHAPTER 15
    January 29 at 10:40 a.m. EST
    Atlanta, Georgia – CNN Center
     
    Ethan’s pulse jumped. How had they missed the shooter? There had not been time between the shot and their sweep of the floor for the shooter to move into position.
    Ethan drew his Glock and ran to the first door, with Jason and Sean right behind him. As before, the room was empty.
    “The last room,” Ethan said as they rapidly scanned each door they passed. He quickened his pace, keeping his eyes alert and his firearm ready.
    Only one left.             
    It had come from this floor; he knew it had. Jason took up a position at the left of the door, Sean took post on the opposite side. Ethan nodded to them, kicked the door open, and ran in.
    As he leapt forward a bullet pinged the wall just above his head. He ducked by instinct even though the