This wasn’t a different situation, though. Taylor needed more time, again, to get his weapon back on target. Now, however, he had the time. As the man struggled to get his breath back, Taylor adjusted his gun, aiming higher. His next shot was not stopped by the vest.
Graf had realized by now his mistake. Taylor was forced to press himself back to the side of the elevator as the inspector turned and fired. The only thing that saved Taylor was Graf’s being further into the locker, out of direct view of the elevator, so his men had room to work. As soon as Taylor saw him come into view, he’d jumped out of the way.
“Move up,” Taylor yelled at Whitaker, hearing her rifle bark out several times.
No more bullets had come into the elevator, giving Taylor enough hope to peak out. Whitaker was moving, crouched, forward towards the locker, sending a slow but steady metronome of fire into it. Taylor could hear more ricochets inside the room. Taylor added his fire into the other side of the room. He heard a shout of pain come from inside the room.
Whitaker moved to press herself against the wall next to the open bay door and looked at Taylor.
“Graf, give up. Your men are dead. You can still walk out of here.”
“Bullshit,” the German’s voice came from inside.
Taylor noticed the words were labored like they were forced through clenched teeth. Either Graf was struggling with something, or he was in pain. Since it didn’t seem likely he was still trying to get into the safe. Considering the number of bullets skidding off concrete inside the room over the last several minutes, Taylor was guessing it was the latter.
“You have my word. We don’t want you dead. We just want to clear Whitaker, and I guess my name. Throw your weapon out, and we won’t shoot you.”
“I’m not going to jail. Do you know what they do to cops inside?”
“Taking your chances with jail seems like the smarter play than getting dead right now. You have those powerful friends out there to help you out. It’s in their interest to keep you out, after all. A chance of getting out of this alive is a lot better than no chance.”
It was silent for a long time while Graf considered. Taylor started to worry that he would decide to go out in a hail of bullets rather than give up. While he had no problem killing Graf, especially considering everything he’d done so far to Whitaker and himself, they needed everything they could get to clear Whitaker. Taylor didn’t want to throw away what was probably their best source of information if he didn’t have to.
“Fine,” he said eventually.
“Good. Throw out your weapon.”
A pistol came sliding across the floor, bouncing off the foot of one of the dead gunmen. Taylor held up a hand to tell Whitaker to hold still. If this was a double-cross and Graf was still armed, he didn’t want them both in the line of fire.
Taylor stayed low, kneeling to try and not be in line with where Graf would assume Taylor would be, just in case. Weapon at the ready, Taylor leaned in to see Graf propped up against the safe Whitaker had bolted to the floor. His right arm was still in a sling. His other hand was gripping his thigh, blood seeping between the fingers.
Taylor gave a side nod for Whitaker to go in the room, not taking his eyes or weapon off Graf. She moved in, only slinging her rifle when she reached him. She’d grabbed handcuffs off one of the bodies near Graf. Gripping his shoulder, she rolled him over, pulled the arm in the sling out, and cuffed his wrists together. Graf howled in pain at her rough treatment. Taylor figured that considering everything he’d done to her, Graf should feel lucky he got out with only that.
Whitaker rolled him back over and sat him up, away from the safe. While she went to retrieve the journal, Taylor holstered his weapon and knelt in front of Graf, looking him in the eyes.
“Now comes the part you’re really going to hate. You’re a smart guy, too smart to trust that your bosses wouldn’t throw you to the wolves one day. You know their type. They’re only loyal to you as long as they see some type of value. If their balance sheets say they’ll make more money selling you out rather than backing you, they’ll do it in a heartbeat. You would have prepared for that, had something in your back pocket to make them look at their numbers a second time, or maybe even a third! I need whatever that is.”
“I don’t know what...” he started to say before Taylor smacked him on the top of the head.
It was an open palm smack, just hard enough to let him know he’d been hit, but not so hard as to actually hurt him.
“Don’t bullshit me. You made a big mistake, you know. She’s always been the type to do things by the book. She’s never had any patience for making exceptions when the situation requires it. You’re decision to frame her has made her rethink that, at least a little. Now, I’m not sure it’s gone so far as allowing me to beat the information out of you, but I’m not sure you want to test
