‘Show me your fucking hands!’
With his peripheral vision, Payne studied his immediate surroundings. A black Mercedes sedan was running on the nearby street. The windows were tinted, so he couldn’t tell if anyone else was inside. Because of the bitter winds, the sidewalk was free of pedestrians. At least for the time being. In approximately ten minutes, the church down the street would be letting out, and when it did, Grandview would be clogged with potential targets.
Then again, ten minutes was an eternity in a hold up.
No way would this drag on that long.
‘I’ve got some cash and a box of pastries. Help yourself to either.’
‘I don’t want your wallet. I want the letter.’ Payne took a step back. ‘What letter?’
‘Don’t play dumb with me. I know you have it. You got it from the girl.’
‘What girl?’
Payne inched backward until he felt the cold metal railing against the small of his back. Now there was nothing behind him but a great view and a drop of several hundred feet.
‘Don’t move again!’ the man ordered.
‘Where can I go?’ Payne replied.
The man stepped forward, closing the distance to ten feet. Close enough so he wouldn’t miss, but far enough away so Payne couldn’t charge him. ‘Where’s the letter?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about!’
The man sneered and pulled his trigger. His silencer flashed, and the bullet
‘What did you do
He ignored the question. ‘We already killed the girl. What’s one more?’
‘Wait a second!’ Payne demanded. ‘Who’s
The gunman sneered again. ‘I’ll ask you one last time. Where is the letter?’
Payne lowered his hands, grasping the rail behind him. ‘Honestly,’ he lied, ‘I
‘That’s a shame, Mr Payne. Then you must die.’
And this gunman had that talent.
With that in mind, Payne did the only rational thing he could think of.
He leaned back and flipped over the railing.
18
Stunned by the development, the shooter rushed forward with gun in hand, hoping to see a body splattered on the hillside below. From the edge of the platform to the icy ground was a distance of over 200 feet. Several bare trees lined the slope, as did a thick blanket of snow, but neither could save a life from this height. Even a physical specimen like Payne was subject to the laws of gravity. Death would be very likely.
That is, if he had fallen into the valley. But in fact that wasn’t what happened.
Payne had spent enough time on the concrete platforms to understand how they were built. His grandfather had even taken him underneath one when it was being repaired, so he could teach Payne the basic principles of cantilevers and stress-bearing beams. From the sidewalk, the
Of course, it was more difficult than it sounded.
If not for his leather gloves, he couldn’t have pulled off the move without tearing the skin from his hands, but the gloves allowed him to keep hold of the vertical bars in the railing while he slid down the wrong side of the guardrail. Instead of plummeting wildly, his hands never left the metal. At the bottom of the rail, his fingers got pinched in between the support brackets and the concrete, sending a shockwave of pain to his brain that compelled him to let go. Thankfully, his adrenaline dulled the sensation, and he managed to hold on long enough to survive.
With legs dangling freely, he swung both feet underneath the platform, hoping to make contact with one of the support beams. On his second attempt, his right foot hit steel and he managed to wedge his heel above the lip of the cold metal. Then, before the shooter had a chance
As Payne ducked his head beneath the platform, the shooter spotted him from above and fired. The bullet hit the lower corner of the column and sent a small shower of debris towards the trees below. The gunman cursed, realizing that his target was now underneath him, and the only way to get a clean shot was to go after him.
It wasn’t an appealing proposition.
Wasting no time, Payne shimmied along the steel beam, crawling upside-down towards the anchor point of the concrete. He had learned the technique in the military, using a single cable to cross a ravine or to breach a nearby building. Heels locked above, hips hanging down, then hand over hand until he reached his destination. It took him less than a minute to reach solid ground — a small ledge underneath the platform that had been installed for workers — but when he did, he gasped for breath and considered his predicament.
No weapon. No phone. No help on the way.
And somewhere above was a man with a silencer.
No way he’d let that happen. Not if he could help it.
Because of his height, Payne was forced to crouch as he moved along the ledge. Slowly, he crept his way towards the right side of the platform, always holding onto the overhead beam to help steady his stride. One misstep on the frozen concrete and he would fall a long way. Not only would death be certain, but cleaning up would be a bitch. At the end of the ledge, he stopped and inched his head away from the platform, leaning back as far as he could to improve his view of above. The shooter must have sensed Payne’s presence because a split- second later he was hovering over him, ready to pull the trigger.
‘Shit!’ Payne yelled as he yanked himself underneath the platform. As he did, the bullet whizzed past him, missing his head by inches and slamming into the rocks below.
‘So will your ammo!’ he shouted back.
‘I wouldn’t count on it.’
Payne nodded to himself, realizing the shooter was right. If he had an extra clip or two, he could stand up there half the day, taking shot after shot until he got lucky or a hostage strolled by. Neither scenario appealed to Payne. In the MANIACs, he had always been the aggressor, looking to exploit his enemy, trying to catch him with his guard down. For him, sitting under a ledge and playing peek-a-boo with a gunman wasn’t an option. To survive, he knew he had to spot the guy’s weakness and use it against him. But what was it?
After a moment of thought, he figured it out.
‘Hey asshole,’ Payne shouted. ‘What’s your name? You owe me that much.’
‘I don’t owe you shit!’
‘Sure you do,’ he replied as he listened to the creaking above him. ‘You snuck up behind me like a bitch. That’s a punk move.’
The gunman crept to the left side of the platform. ‘But it worked.’
Payne turned his head and shouted to the right. ‘No, it didn’t. I’m still alive.’
‘Come and get me!’
The gunman paused, then doubled back to his right. Without saying a word, he climbed up on the railing and
