Jack snatched up the flashlight, fished through his pockets for an additional magazine and then made his way over to the other guy and put a bullet in his head. Now that he had a flashlight it didn’t take long to find the second handgun. He gathered ammo from the fallen man and headed back to the stairwell more than prepared to go to war.
Clutching both guns, he had only one goal and that was to kill any man that got in his way. And kill he did. Others must have heard the gunfire on the twentieth floor and were making their way up the stairwell as he came down. Jack crouched in the corner until he saw the first guy. He squeezed off two rounds, and the man’s body fell back into his comrades who were only a few steps behind. Moving with speed and precision he used the element of surprise to his advantage, launching himself over the banister down to the next series of steps while unloading one round after another. The sudden look of shock on the next two men soon changed as red mist covered their faces.
One of them didn’t die immediately, so Jack fired a round into his skull. He relieved them of a knife, more magazines, and an additional Glock that he tucked into the back of his waistband.
As the sound of gunfire echoed in the stairwell it couldn’t help but attract more. He had no idea how many men Pope had and quite frankly he didn’t care, he’d kill every single one of them before he left the building.
Sinking back into the eighteenth floor he waited for the next four guys who were making their way up. These were more cautious than the last. Two of them ducked into the eighteenth floor while the others continued up. The eighteenth floor was lit up, a series of corridors and enclosed offices most of which were for a law firm. Jack scanned an office table close by and spotted a stapler, he scrambled over and snatched it up. Keeping an eye on the men, he launched it over several glass dividers until it landed about ten feet away from them. The clatter of it against the hardwood floor made them turn. That was all he needed.
A simple distraction was their downfall.
Jack jogged past their bullet-riddled bodies not giving them a second look.
As Jack came out into the stairwell, an idea came to him.
He needed to stack the odds in his favor, make it harder for everyone.
He didn’t know how many of Pope’s guys were in the building or if he could escape without injury. That was why he took out his lighter, went back into the eighteenth floor, stood on a chair and placed it under the fire sensor. Within seconds an ear-piercing alarm rang out followed by an umbrella of cold water bursting forth from the sprinkler system.
Fire trucks would be there within minutes, followed by police.
He was sure Pope and his counterparts had some of the police on the payroll to allow them to run such an operation in the heart of the city, but not all the boys in blue were dirty. Although he didn’t want cops breathing down his neck it could work to his advantage.
And right now the odds were stacked against him.
Jack shot out into the stairwell and could hear men above, and others down below yelling. He made his way down and shot one more guy on the seventeenth floor before he spotted Pope yelling on the sixteenth.
The money was still in the shaft. He’d have to come back for that.
On one hand he could have just walked out of there; on the other, he knew Tyson and Shanice would never be free from a man like Pope as long as he was still breathing. He was like Gafino, in that he would hunt you down to the furthest corner of the earth before he would rest. It was in moments like these where the switch flipped in his head to the way he used to think, the way he had to act to survive.
Brutality was the only option.
Jack entered the sixteenth floor tired, his body aching from the fight, his face swollen but his spirit still intact. Through tinted office glass windows he saw a group of Pope’s men heading his way. He didn’t wait until they were within full view before he unloaded every round he had in both magazines. Glass shattered, bullets snapped and bodies dropped as he pressed in heading for Pope. He released the empty magazines, palmed two full ones into place, and continued unloading though now with specific targets in mind.
In the chaos of the moment, and the onslaught of gunfire, Jack didn’t see Spike enter the floor from the stairwell. His back was turned and the noise of gunfire too great.
A round hit him from behind, the familiar burning sensation like a hot knife going through butter. Jack’s legs buckled and he twisted in time to unload two rounds into Spike. Crawling back into an office room, Jack kicked the door closed and gripped the left side of his body. Pain shot through him, an unquenchable fire. He yanked up his shirt and saw that it had gone straight through. There was no telling if it had struck any vital organs but it wasn’t good. He was losing blood fast.
All around him water flooded the building soaking the floor and creating mini streams. The noise of the fire alarm was deafening. Wet, in pain and yet still alive he slowly slid up the wall leaving watery blood behind. Spike was dead and Pope gone.
Coward, Jack thought.
It was typical of those at the top.
Fear would get the better of them, but it wasn’t just that, it was the sound of sirens.
Jack knew that if cops caught him in this condition he would be arrested and questions would be asked later. He stumbled
