looked like small steel fruits. ‘Go,’ he said.
Cornelius glanced down at the grenades then back into Johann’s eyes. He saw the brightness slowly fading in them. The blast on the horn had ruined the element of surprise. He should have shot Kutlar rather than leave him alone in the van. Johann was now dying because of his mistake. He would kill Kutlar slowly when he got the chance. He reached over and quickly made the sign of the Tau on Johann’s forehead, his fingers tracing a bloody mark where they touched the skin.
‘Keep them busy, but don’t harm the girl,’ he said, remembering the Abbot’s message. He released the empty clip from his gun and snapped a new one in place. He took one last look at Johann. Nodded once then angled the gun over the top of the crate and started firing rapidly as he moved backwards across the concrete floor, away from the line of crates and towards the open door.
Chapter 117
Arkadian’s ears were ringing from the gunfire and his shoulder hurt like hell, but he still felt sharp. He reached up. Pressed his hand against the wound. Felt the wet hole in his jacket where the bullet had passed through. Took it away and examined it. The blood on his palm was dark, not bright. It wasn’t arterial. He wasn’t bleeding too badly. He looked across at Gabriel, crouched low by the shot-out window, his eyes scanning the silent warehouse for movement.
‘You OK?’ the woman’s voice asked. He turned to look at her. She was hunkered down next to an open box of cartridges, her black hair tumbling over her face in a silken wave as she dexterously refilled the clip from his gun.
‘I’ll live,’ he said.
She looked up. Nodded towards the corner. ‘You should go look after her,’ she said. ‘This isn’t your fight. It’s not hers either.’
He followed her gaze to where Liv was still huddled beside the photocopier. From his new angle he saw something else. Underneath the ruined TV set there was a door set into the wall with FIRE EXIT written across it in bold green letters.
‘I wouldn’t do that,’ the old man said, reading his thoughts. ‘They’ll know there’s a back way. Anyone heading through that door will be walking straight into trouble.’
Kathryn snicked the last cartridge into the clip and smacked it back into the stock of Arkadian’s gun. ‘Just watch the exit and keep your head down,’ she said, holding it towards him by the barrel. ‘You got a mobile?’ Arkadian nodded and instantly regretted it as another sharp pain shot through his shoulder. ‘Then call for backup. They’ll respond much quicker to an officer in trouble.’
He held her gaze for a second then reached out with his good hand and took the gun, feeling for the safety catch with his thumb and discovering it was already off.
Johann knew the walls of the office would dampen the blast from a grenade. He needed to get closer, or wait for the people in the office to come out. He figured the girl would stay in the office. She might be stunned by the explosions, or suffer shrapnel injuries, but she’d live. He could feel a numb coldness spreading from the ends of his fingers and feet.
At the far end of the warehouse he could hear the tinkle of glass and the scuff and crunch of cautious movement. His eyes dropped down to his gun lying on the painted concrete floor. He reached over and picked it up. It felt ridiculously heavy. Not a good sign. Slowly he unscrewed the silencer to make it lighter. He placed it on the floor beside him and felt the cold reach his knees as the heat continued to pump out from his neck.
Time was up.
He picked up the first of the two grenades.
Chapter 118
Gabriel rose slightly and scanned the warehouse over the jagged lower edge of the window. There had been no further movement since the last volley of gunfire. This meant one of two things. Either the man had retreated — in which case he would undoubtedly return with more men and more firepower, or he was still in the warehouse and biding his time. Either way they couldn’t just wait it out and hope for the best. They would have to force the situation.
A crunching sound drew his attention and he glanced over at the Inspector moving stiffly across the glass- gravelled floor to where Liv was huddled by the photocopier. He gripped a mobile phone in his mouth and held his wounded right arm stiffly across his chest. In the other he held a gun. Gabriel didn’t want to wait around while he called in the cavalry. After his visit to the morgue they would arrest him for sure — and being stuck in a cell for the next few days wasn’t going to help anyone. The Inspector reached Liv and leaned in close to whisper something. She looked up at Gabriel and smiled. He smiled back then looked away as more glass crunched behind him. Kathryn and Oscar were taking up a position by the door. Gabriel gripped his gun and raised it up as he glanced back out at the silent warehouse, scanning the gaps between the crates for movement.
Still nothing. Just shadows and air.
He looked over at his mother and grandfather, braced against the wall inside the open door, his mother in lead position. In her hand she held the Glock he had liberated from the man who now rested at the bottom of the quarry. She looked over her shoulder at him, her face sharpened with concentration. He held up his left hand so she could see it. Took a breath. Then dropped it.
As his left hand fell his right hand rose bringing his gun up over the lower edge of the broken window. The moment the barrel cleared it he started firing, letting off a tight pattern over the area he’d last seen the man go down. He fired eight shots. Three rapid rounds to put someone down, five slightly slower to keep them there.
He finished firing and scanned the warehouse through the thin cloud of blue smoke. Saw nothing. He glanced down over the edge of the broken window. Kathryn was now outside in the warehouse, her back pressed against one of the crates, in position and ready to go.
Johann heard the bullets rip through the air above his head and ping into the steel door beyond. One round clipped the top of the crate he was slumped against, showering him with wood and shards of aluminium before it ricocheted off to the right, whining as it went. All the while he kept his hand clamped to his neck, keeping the pressure on, staunching the flow of blood to buy himself just a little more time. He counted the shots and noted their frequency — three quick, five slower — classic cover fire. They were changing position. It meant they were coming for him. He smiled and closed his free hand round the two grenades in his lap. He was starting to feel cold and drowsy.
He started to recite one of the vigil prayers in his head.
He was dying doing God’s work, and God always gathered his own.
Gabriel reached the open office door and took up the position his mother had recently vacated. Three quick shots tore through the silence from outside and he spun away and was out of the door before the first of the slower shots sounded.
Johann counted the three quick shots and shifted his position, leaving bloody handprints on the cold concrete floor.
Every movement was an effort but he couldn’t wait any longer.
The first of the slower shots rang out and his hand closed around the first grenade.
He pulled the pin, pulled his arm back and threw it round the edge of the crate towards the office at the back of the warehouse.
