men had stopped firing momentarily. Ryan banged on the door of the big truck while Lucinda ducked into the building.
'It's me!. . It's Ryan!'
Cole swung the door open, his face flushed with excitement 'The fucker put six or seven rounds right through the top of this bastard,' he said, grinning and pointing to the roof of the mobile control center.
'Get the tapes and get into the garage,' Ryan said. 'I'm going after Mickey.' He didn't wait for an answer but ran to the fire door.
Ryan was forced to pull himself up the fire stairs by the banister rail. His leg had lost almost all of its strength. It felt wobbly under him.
Finally, he stepped out onto the roof and stood staring at the helicopter a hundred yards away, still hovering. He could see Mickey in the seat next to the pilot.
'Come here! Come here, Mickey,' he yelled into the wind and rain. He knew Mickey couldn't hear him. 'Come down here, you son of a bitch!' he shouted, waving his fist at the chopper.
From the helicopter, Mickey saw Ryan come out of the stairwell. Anger fueled by adrenaline hit him, frying all reason.
'Cocksucker!' he screamed at the windshield. The pilot looked at him in amazement and alarm. Mickey was in a new zone, someplace he'd never been before. His emotions were completely controlling his actions. He banged the pilot on the shoulder and pointed down. The four Ita l ian 'cousins' jammed new clips into their AR-15s. Mickey yelled at them, 'You shoot this asshole if he gets me. . put him under if I go down.'
The Italian cousins looked at him blankly, and Mickey repeated the instructions in Italian. They nodded, grave expressions on their faces.
'Gimme,' he said to Pulacarpo, pointing at a nine-millimeter Beretta in the Sicilian's belt. Pulacarpo gave the gun to Mickey as the helicopter set down on the side of Hertz Castle farthest away from the big dish. Mickey jumped out onto the rain-soaked roof.
Mickey and Ryan were now only fifty feet apart. The wind from the rotor blades was blowing rainwater everywhere. Mickey waved at the pilot to back off. The gray and red chopper pulled back slightly and the prep school roommates stood facing each other, Naomi Zur's dead body between them. Rain hammered down on the concrete. Ryan moved to Naomi, knelt awkwardly, and checked her pulse. He knew when he touched her. He knew she was dead. Then he stood up and looked at Mickey.
'It was bound to come to this,' Mickey shouted over the noise of the rain and the helicopter. Anger and bitterness were in his voice. He raised the gun and pointed it at Ryan.
'I'm not armed,' Ryan yelled. But Mickey didn't respond. 'You need a gun, 'cause you never could take me one-on-one. You're a pussy, Mickey. A fat, oily little piece of shit with no guts.'
Mickey looked across the pavement at the handsome blond man. God had given Ryan the gift of beauty… Mickey had always scorned that gift, but Mickey had the devil's gift of power. And now he vowed to take Ryan's beauty from him. . take it with his bare hands. Anger swelled. Emotion flooded through him. It filled his empty vessel with rage. Mickey dropped the gun and moved forward.
Ryan stood his ground. He put his weak left leg forward so that he would get punching power off his stronger right leg. They net in the center of the roof, drenched from the downpour. Both held up their fists.
'You could a' been my friend,' Mickey said, bitterly. 'I was trying to help you.'
'No, you weren't. You don't have any friends. You liked watching me squirm. . I was just like Rex. . Running with my head off, going nowhere.'
Mickey swung.
The fight didn't last very long. Mickey's first blow hit Ryan square on the jaw. It rocked him back. Ryan pivoted to his right on his good leg and threw a left hand into Mickey's ribs, following it with a low right cross. Mickey stumbled back but didn't go down, then faked with his right and threw a looping overhand left that Ryan ducked. Then Ryan launched a vicious uppercut that caught Mickey square. He staggered backward, dropping to one knee. He let out a roar of anger and charged Ryan, who tried to pivot left, but his bad leg collapsed and he fell. Mickey flung himself on his fallen enemy, screaming with rage and joy. He had lost all control. He grabbed Ryan's neck in both of his chubby hands and tried to strangle him. Ryan struggled to throw Mickey off, but adrenaline powered Mickey's grip, giving him ungodly strength. Finally, as Ryan was about to pass out, with a last surge of energy, he rolled up and over on top of Mickey. As if pushed by an invisible force, the two of them rolled down the slight incline of the ramp to the level below. Ryan encouraged the roll and used it to break Mickey's grasp around his neck. He struggled to his feet, trying to favor the left leg, but Mickey turned and ran.
Ryan realized he was going after the nine-millimeter Beretta and limped futilely after him. Mickey picked up the gun and pointed it at Ryan.
'Fuck you Bolt,' he yelled. 'Fuck you. You're going away.' And he fired.
Ryan felt a stinging in his right shoulder and then three shots rang out in succession and Mickey stumbled backward.
Stiff-legged.
A man on stilts.
Mickey's stomach opened up. . Stomach lining, kidney fluid, and intestines poured out into the rainwater at his feet. He looked down in horror as his life gushed out of the ragged hole in his abdomen.
Standing in the doorway with the security guard's pistol still in her hand was Lucinda. She was staring wide- eyed at her brother.
Mickey looked down. The gun was still in his hand. He dropped it and stumbled backward, trying to get to the helicopter, which was returning for him. He was moving by sheer force of will. His vision was blurred; he lost perspective, stumbling blindly on the rain-slick pavement.
The helicopter was still a few yards from the edge of the building and the Italian cousins let out a nine- millimeter stream of death. The lead chipped the concrete around Ryan but, miraculously, didn't hit him. Mickey moved on unsteady legs toward the chopper and they stopped firing. Mickey lunged for the helicopter skid and fell off the roof, catching the ledge at the last second with both hands.
Ryan looked down at Mickey. They were now only a few feet apart. Mickey had a strange, empty look on his face. With death almost on him, Mickey still held the ledge, his grip firm. Something ungodly came up from the depth of Michael Joseph Alo, a grumbling sound, powerful and angry. Ryan kneeled down to hear. Then Mickey spoke two chilling sentences.
Mickey's eyes were shining, more intense and alive than any eyes Ryan had ever seen. A jack-o'-lantern grin spread his face wide, and then he simply let go.
He fell backward off the roof, tumbling in the air, turning and rolling, the hideous leer still stretching his plump cheeks.
Four stories below, his body exploded on impact. Sirens sounded in the distance as the helicopter abruptly changed direction and streaked away into the rain-swept night.
Ryan, with his shoulder bleeding, limped over and picked up Naomi's camera, then went back to Lucinda. He put his good arm around her. 'Thank you,' he whispered.
'What did he say?' she asked, still stunned.
Ryan looked away. 'I couldn't understand him.'
They moved into the garage to get out of the rain and found Cole on the first level looking out at the street as the cop cars pulled up, a cherry orchard of flashing red lights.
'Naomi's dead. Here's her camera.' Ryan handed it to Cole.
Cole bowed his head. She had gone to join her Israeli.
They walked into the street, where the cops took them into custody. They were cuffed and read their rights. The rain slowed as they were put in separate squad cars.
Ryan sat alone in the backseat, listening to the windshield wipers flip-flopping the moisture away. He was in the middle of a city of eight million people, yet he was alone and afraid. He couldn't forget the last words Mickey had said to him.
'I'll come back,' his prep school roommate had promised. 'I'll come back and get you.'
