let go of the gun, but he couldn’t force the hands to part. His vision narrowed. He tried to inhale, but got nothing. The grasp was crushing his larynx. He couldn’t breathe. If he couldn’t get this guy off of him, he’d be dead before the train arrived at the next station.
Through his tunnel vision, Locke saw the man turn his head in apparent surprise. He released one hand to defend himself from something, and then Locke saw an object plunge into the man’s eye. More screams from the passengers around him. The man went slack instantly and collapsed on Locke.
Locke pried the hands off his throat. He coughed until he caught his breath and heaved the man off of him. Then he could see what was sticking out of the dead man’s eye. A pewter model of the Space Needle, embedded in his face up to the base. He looked up to see who his savior was and saw Dilara looking down in a mixture of shock and relief.
“I am so sick of these guys,” she said, a sob catching in her throat.
“Are you all right?” Locke asked hoarsely.
She nodded. “I didn’t mean to kill him…I was aiming for his ear, just to knock him off you, but he turned his head and…” Her voice trailed off as she stared at the man, whose other eye stared back at her. She obviously had never killed someone before.
Locke stood and put his arm around her. “You did great. You saved my life. Thank you. Is anyone hurt?” he said loudly. Several people shook their heads. He looked around at the monorail passengers who had retreated in fear from the fight and were now staring in horror at the dead man on the floor. Although some of them were crying, nobody seemed to be injured.
He looked outside. They were entering the station at Seattle Center. Too late to stop. He had to hope the police were already there. He didn’t want to be stuck on the train any longer. There was still another gunman out there, the one he’d seen in the store window. If one guy was brazen enough to go after them on the monorail, then it wasn’t likely the other guy would give up any more easily.
The train came to a halt and the doors slid open. He tugged on Dilara’s hand. “Let’s get out of here.” Not wanting to be mistaken for one of the gunmen and getting shot by the police, Locke left the submachine gun where it was.
They ran down the station’s exit ramp, and Locke saw a squad car screech to a stop on the sidewalk outside 50 yards away where barriers blocked it from coming further. He could breathe a little easier now that the authorities had arrived. More squad cars were surely right behind this one. The driver’s door flew open, but the man emerging wasn’t wearing a policeman’s uniform. He was dressed in black. It was the mustached man from outside the clothing store. He must have hijacked a police car.
He yanked Dilara’s hand and dashed toward the closest cover: Seattle’s famed Space Needle. The 600-foot- tall tower was a concrete spire with a two-story disk on top for the viewing pleasure of the thousands who visited daily. On a clear day like today, Locke knew it would be crowded, and that he would be putting many people in harm’s way, but caught in the open as he was, he didn’t have a choice. He raced up the curving ramp, pulling Dilara with him.
Locke flung open the door and looked back. The gunman was sprinting toward them, snapping off erratic shots as he ran. A carpeted ramp led up and around to the elevators.
Locke and Dilara wound up past a line of sightseers patiently waiting their turn. When they reached the top of the ramp, Locke saw an elevator emptying. It was just what they needed.
They blew past the attendant, who could only yelp, “Hey!” as they passed him. Locke heard screams from the people in line, who must have seen their pursuer brandishing a gun.
“Get out!” Locke yelled at the nonplussed elevator operator who was guiding people to the exits. She stared at him, not sure what to do until shots from the silenced Hechler and Koch tore into the elevator wall. She dove aside, and Locke frantically pushed the elevator’s button for the observation level, while Dilara pressed herself to the opposite side.
The doors were closing, but not fast enough. The gunman dove in before they slid shut. The elevator began to rise, and light flooded through the external windows that looked out on the city. The gunman brought the weapon up and aimed it straight at Locke, who for a fleeting moment realized that he was about to die. The assassin pulled the trigger.
The hammer clicked on an empty chamber. The gunman had made the classic mistake of not counting his rounds. Locke seized the stroke of luck and pounced on the gunman, who still lay on the floor. He knelt on the man’s arms, but the man kneed him, throwing Locke to the side. The man leapt to his feet and reached behind him. He withdrew a Sig Sauer 9mm pistol.
The man shook his head and smiled. Locke wasn’t sure, but it almost looked like the man admired him.
Dilara slammed against his arm as the assassin fired, sending two shots into the window. Locke took advantage of the momentum shift and threw his full weight into the gunman. As the three of them wrestled, more bullets hit the glass. Locke shoved his shoulder into the assassin’s torso, lifting him up and slamming him against the window. The glass, weakened by at least eight shots, shattered outward.
The gunman fell through, but he was able to grab the metal support. He dangled there, looking up at Locke. The elevator would reach the top in seconds, and the man would be crushed against the inside of the observation deck’s elevator shaft.
Locke instinctively began to reach out to help the man back in, then hesitated. Did Locke really want to save him? This guy had just tried to kill him. Locke considered leaving the man where he was, but he grudgingly realized he needed to question him. His arm shot out to grab the assailant, but to Locke’s astonishment, the man just smiled again, making no move to grab Locke’s hand.
“Why?” Locke yelled over the rushing wind.
“All flesh has corrupted his way upon the earth,” the assassin yelled back. Then to Locke’s surprise, the man released his grip and plunged out of sight.
TWENTY-TWO
Locke leaned against a squad car as he gave his statement to a Seattle police detective, going through every detail from the time he saw the gunman in the window reflection to the time that the man fell to a suicidal death. Dilara sat in a cruiser 15 feet away talking to his partner. Dilara still looked shaken up by the experience and sipped a cup of coffee. Ambulances and police cars surrounded the base of the Space Needle, and police were gathering eyewitness accounts from dozens of other people.
Locke had no doubt that the latest attempt on their lives was another link in the chain of events, and it only reinforced his belief that more deaths would be coming, particularly on the Genesis Dawn. Even though he had no proof, these assassins must have been involved with the same group as the man who had tried to blow up Scotia One.
Luckily, no one had been killed in the cross town battle except for the gunmen. The only person injured was the policeman the mustached man had shot in the back. Initial reports said the injury wasn’t life-threatening.
Locke was just wrapping up his account with the detective when a dark-haired man in a crisp gray suit approached them. He was accompanied by an attractive blonde in a similarly well-fitted suit. The man flipped open his wallet and showed the detective an ID.
“Special Agent Thomas Perez, FBI,” the man said. “This is Special Agent Trina Harris. Dr. Locke is working with the agency on the Rex Hayden plane crash, and we have reason to believe this attack is not only related to that disaster, but that the attempted assassination is part of a broader terrorist plot.”
That caught the police detective off guard.
“This is a homicide investigation…” he sputtered.
“No one other than the perpetrators was killed.”
“A Seattle police officer was shot. We want to find out why.”
“As you are no doubt aware,” Agent Perez said, “the FBI has authority under the US PATRIOT Act to take over any investigation that may involve terrorist activity. Please ask your partner to bring Dr. Kenner over
