William Speir

The Legacy Enslaved


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of the target. The only downside was that it required being close to the target. Attempts to develop remote-controlled delivery methods had ended in failure; the spray dissipated too quickly and often knocked out innocent bystanders.

      Jamie’s hand closed around the knockout spray’s metal canister in her hoodie pocket. Surveillance footage from the past two weeks showed the targets entering the park near the restrooms next to the statue. The plan was to apprehend the targets as far from the court lights as possible, so the youngsters playing basketball wouldn’t see anything. Jamie and Hunter hid behind the statue, anticipating that the targets would approach the courts from that direction.

      “Oh, no!”

      Jamie looked at Hunter. “What’s wrong?”

      Hunter pointed past the courts. “Look. We’re in the wrong place. They entered the park from the far side.”

      Jamie saw the targets emerging from the darkness and approaching the courts. “And there are five of them. The cameras never showed more than three coming to this park.”

      “What do we do now?” Hunter hissed.

      What DO we do now? She watched the targets enter the basketball courts and approach the youngsters, who had stopped playing and were backing away slowly. Even at that distance, she could tell that the youngsters were afraid. We can’t let these thugs recruit any more members.

      Making a quick decision, Jamie stood and headed toward the courts. Her focus was on the gang members; she no longer felt the cold.

      “What are you doing?” Hunter demanded.

      “I’m going to intervene.”

      Hunter watched her walk away. Then he shook his head and followed her.

      Jamie quickly covered the ground between the statue and the courts. As Jamie approached the courts, she heard one of the targets demand that the youngsters join their gang. She pulled her hood tightly around her face so it hid her features and her red hair, and when she reached the fence surrounding the courts, she threw the gate open so it banged loudly.

      The targets spun around when they heard the bang. They saw Jamie walking toward them; the angle of the court lights cast her face in shadows, so they couldn’t see who she was. “Deal with that,” one of the targets shouted to the gang member closest to the gate.

      The gang member faced Jamie. “What do you want, bitch?”

      Jamie kept walking toward the target, saying nothing. The gang member reached for his weapon, but before he could draw it, he was flat on the ground. Jamie’s spinning kick caught him on the side of his head and dropped him like a rock. She kicked him in the head again, knocking him out, and then she approached the second target.

      Hearing the first target fall, the second target whirled around, saw Jamie heading toward him, and pulled a pistol from his waistband. But he was a second too late. Jamie kicked the half-drawn gun out of the target’s hand. She then attacked him, kicking him in the groin and punching him in the chest several times before catching him in his jaw, sending him backwards. His head hit the concrete hard, knocking him out.

      Two of the other targets drew their pistols. Jamie rolled to her left and scooped up the pistol that the second target had dropped. She fired at the third target, hitting him in the knee. He fell to the ground, dropping his pistol and screaming in pain.

      “Run!” Jamie shouted to the youngsters.

      They didn’t need to be told twice. They fled the basketball courts and raced out of the park.

      Jamie, still in a crouched position, leveled her pistol at the fourth target. He fired his gun, but the shot missed its mark. Jamie put a round in his shoulder, and he staggered backwards.

      The fifth target, who was clearly the leader, reached for his pistol, but suddenly there was a hand in front of his face spraying something at him. He dropped to the ground, unconscious.

      “Thanks for taking care of him,” Jamie said, getting to her feet.

      “You’re welcome,” Hunter replied, walking over to the other targets and spraying them in the face. He had come into the courts from a different gate while their attention was on Jamie.

      Once all of the targets were unconscious, Hunter stepped outside the fence and returned with the backpack that he had brought with him when he followed Jamie from the statue. Jamie and Hunter dragged the targets over to one of the basketball goals and bound their hands together with handcuffs around the metal pole.

      A gust of wind shook the leaves in the nearby trees as Jamie grabbed the med-kit from the backpack. She tied a tourniquet around the third target’s knee and applied a quick field dressing to the fourth target’s shoulder. Hunter disarmed all of the targets, unloaded the pistols, and placed the guns and ammunition in a metal box that was inside the backpack. He locked the box, secured it to the pole, and put the key in a large envelope. He then taped the envelope to the leader’s chest.

      Jamie and Hunter looked around to make sure they had left nothing behind to identify them. Satisfied that the area was clean, they exited the courts and headed back toward the statue.

      “I love watching you kick ass, Team Two,” Jamie heard over her earpiece. “You missed your check-in time, by the way.”

      “Sorry about that,” Jamie replied. “We were a bit busy intervening.”

      “I know,” the voice of her team leader said. “Good job. Report back here when you can for a debrief.”

      “Roger that. Are you alerting the authorities?”

      “Already done.”

      “Thanks. We’re leaving the park now.”

      “Roger, Team Two.”

      Jamie glanced over at Hunter. “I’ll meet you in an hour or so.” She handed him her canister, and he stowed it in the backpack along with his own.

      “See you there.”

      Hunter slung the backpack over his shoulder, turned left at the statue, and headed for the bus stop near the restrooms. Jamie turned right and started running. She’d hail a cab once she was at least a mile away from the park. The Order’s intervention protocol dictated that no members of an intervention team drive their own vehicles to or from a surveillance site, so before heading to the team leader’s house, both Jamie and Hunter would take public transportation to where they had left their cars earlier in the evening.

      Jamie arrived ninety minutes later and found Hunter and the rest of the intervention team waiting for her.

      “About time you showed up,” the team leader said, smiling.

      “Shut up, Rick,” Jamie laughed.

      Rick Foster, a Knight Commander of the Order and someone that Jamie had worked with on several interventions, gestured to an empty seat while he turned on the large video monitor. A moment later, the monitor showed the surveillance video of Jamie and Hunter catching the targets and saving the youngsters.

      When the video ended, the team applauded Jamie and Hunter.

      “That was good work,” Rick said, turning off the monitor. “But why didn’t you check in and let me know what you were doing? If I hadn’t started watching the footage from your park when you failed to check in, I might never have known what happened. If you had been injured, I wouldn’t have known to call for help. What you did was brave, and it worked, but it was reckless.”

      Jamie nodded. “I was focused on helping those kids. We didn’t expect there to be five gang members tonight, and once I decided that I needed to act, instinct took over. I’ll be more careful next time.”

      “Thanks,” Rick said, sitting down. “I don’t want to have to explain to your father that something happened to you on one of my interventions.”

      Jamie nodded.

      “The good news,”