weapon that would soon be in my grip The screams from the elevator were now muffled. I wasn't aware of anything else as I concentrated solely on Carpenter's head as he turned to fire into the other body on the floor.
My fingers scraped against the body armor as I leaned forward slightly from the hip and pushed my coat and jacket back as aggressively as I could. The weight of the metal outlets helped me to expose my weapon for the second I needed. Pushing the web of my right hand firmly down into the 88's pistol grip, I closed my lower three fingers and thumb around it as firmly as possible.
Drawing the weapon, I started to insert my glove-free index finger into the trigger guard, making sure I could feel the steel of the trigger on the first pad. I pulled down on the safety catch with my thumb just before Carpenter fired his next round.
There was the glint of brass as the working parts ejected the spent casing between us. As he tried to fire again, I could see the top slide being held back by the locking lever. He had run out of rounds.
Jamming the 88 into my left hand, I punched forward and raised the weapon up, in between my focus on his head, waiting for that nanosecond before the 88 came into view and I acquired the sight picture.
Real life burst into my eardrums once again. It was Nightmare, shouting into his Motorola at the 4x4s to move in on the Meres as he gripped Carpenter's arm, dragging him toward the foyer.
I was now no more than two steps from Val. He was still looking at the bodies on the floor, taking in what he had just seen over the last ten seconds.
He went into survival mode, spinning round and looking back toward the restaurant, thinking that he could make his escape. We had eye-to-eye.
He knew I was coming for him, and he knew it was too late to do much about it.
Everything went into slow motion as I focused completely on his neck.
It was pointless paying attention to anything else around me. There was fuck-all I could do about it.
I was now only one step away. He was expecting to get shot and stood there waiting, accepting. There was nothing he could do. He must have known this would happen one day. I put the crook of my left arm around his neck, still moving forward so it jammed tight against his throat.
He staggered backward as I took another step, forcing his face upward.
I heard him gag. He was only five foot seven, so quite easy to get a grip of. If it had been his companion, I might have had to get on the balls of my feet. The woman in the mink didn't react at all. I expected her to scream, but she just stood off to one side, back to the wall, and watched.
With the pistol in my right hand and still moving, I pushed my right arm behind his neck to complete the head lock, like a wrestler trying to get a better hold of his opponent. At once he started fighting for oxygen; there was no way he wasn't coming with me. There was no need to check him for weapons. He didn't need one tonight; he was a businessman on his way to the theater.
I continued on toward the foyer. Val didn't like what I was doing to him, his back arched to try to take the weight of his body off his neck.
I was in a semi crouched position, so I could carry his weight. I could feel the body armor he was wearing, disguised as an undershirt.
I concentrated on looking where we were going, toward the Russians shouting in the foyer and the suddenly silent Japanese. Nothing else mattered.
Four or five more seconds had elapsed and the people inside the hotel could not only see what had happened, but had had time for it to sink in. It takes a while for a brain not used to processing this sort of information to say, Yep, that's right, there are two dead men on the floor and others with submachine guns shouting and running around the foyer. Then, once one person starts becoming hysterical, they all do.
I turned into the foyer, heading for the exit. Nightmare came into view by the main doors, doing his stuff to one of the BGs, shouting and screaming in Russian and kicking his hands away from his body.
I was sixty-odd feet away from them.
The Japanese followed everyone else's example, running for cover and hiding behind the sofas, dragging their loved ones with them. That was great: The more they panicked the less they saw.
A two-tone alarm started to drown out the screams and I moved as fast as I could.
Nightmare was there, checking my back as he covered the BG. Gripping tight, I pulled Val along. He snorted like a horse, fighting for breath.
Through the windows, the blaze of headlights from the three Meres lit Sergei's 4x4, which had the tailgate open, waiting for me and Val.
Beyond the Meres' roofs, I could see Jesse and Frank, AK butts unfolded and in the shoulder, muzzles pointing at the ground. Val's three drivers had already been dragged out of their seats and were face down on the pavement.
Carpenter was to the left of the convoy. He, too, had his weapon pointing down. He must have been covering the other BG. All three were blowing out steam like kettles.
Sergei would be in the wagon, waiting for me to get out of this lunatic asylum.
With thirty feet to go, World War Three broke out. I heard a series of short bursts from a 9mm, the muzzle flashes bouncing off the windows like flashbulbs. It was Carpenter, giving the BG the best part of a mag. Then the shots were drowned out by the screaming in the foyer. It was like the sinking of the Titanic.
I couldn't believe it. More muzzle flashes lit up the darkness outside, the heavier 7.62 reports from Jesse and Frank echoing through the building. The drivers must have gone for their weapons, thinking they were next. Nightmare was frozen to the spot, shaking with fear as he stood over the last BG. He stared at me, waiting for direction.
I flicked a look at the BG. His eyes were switched on and waiting for a chance to get away from this gang fuck There was nothing I could do for Nightmare, who was starting to stress big time. He would have to sort it out himself.
There was no way I was going out the front door with a firefight in progress, especially as I didn't know the result. Turning back toward the hallway, I moved Val as quickly as I could, nearly falling over the doorman and a bellboy, who were down on the floor in the open, too paralyzed with fear to move.
I got back to the corner of the hallway. The man was still sobbing over his wife in the elevator. Her legs, in flesh-colored stockings and sensible shoes, protruded into the hallway as the doors opened and closed against them.
The woman was still there, well in control of herself. She just stood, watching, not even bothering to wipe the dropped BG's blood and membrane off her face.
There was more hysteria as rounds starred the safety glass around the entrance. The BG had obviously seized his chance and got to his feet, firing as he went for freedom. Nightmare took the burst into his unprotected trunk and crumpled on top of two Japanese tourists, who stayed where they were, too shocked to move.
The BG started toward me, mini-Uzi in his right hand, its strap over his shoulder.
What was he going to do? He couldn't open up on me without hitting his boss.
Turning Val round to face his BG and protect me, I lifted my 88. I wasn't going to do much against his body armor, even if I could hit a moving target at fifty feet one-handed with a pistol. I had to wait until he was nearer.
I fired at him from about thirty feet, and kept on firing, aiming below center mass. It was pointless aiming at his head at that range.
I'd emptied at least half of the twenty-round mag, not knowing whether it was going to drop him or not, when I heard him scream and he went down, his legs buckling. I didn't care where I'd hit him, just that I had.
Dragging Val, I passed the reception, trying to avoid the video camera, and headed toward the store. I was going it alone now, leaving the contact outside to sort itself out.
The Money was wrapped in my arms and I wasn't about to give it up. I turned right down a wide hallway, heading for the rear parking lot door. I knew where I needed to go; time in reconnaissance is seldom wasted.
Passing the conference rooms and business center, I pulled Val along the thick pile carpet, both of us finding it difficult to breathe. Me from fear and physical exertion, him from strangulation.
It wasn't worth checking behind me. I'd soon know if there was a drama: I'd get shot at.
People cowered in doorways as they saw us coming. That suited me fine.
Reaching the end of the hall, I climbed four steps, then turned left and climbed ten more. The inner parking lot door was held open by a fire extinguisher. I hit the crossbar of the second and burst out onto the red asphalt at
