elevator lobby, turning back east, hustling to the third parking level. He turned again, going down to the elevator landing between the third and fourth parking levels. Passing the elevators, he continued part way down the walking ramp to the fourth parking level and stopped.
Mac ran down the first runway and could hear the echoes of Alt running a level below him. Mac turned at the first parking level and ran down the ramp back west to the second elevator level, turned back east down the ramp and stopped about two thirds of the way down, looking directly right, into the third parking level and down the ramp and listened. He didn’t hear Alt running. He’d stopped.
Cautiously, Mac moved slowly down now, shuffling his feet sideways to the left, scanning the cars and trucks. He got to the bottom of the walking ramp and urgently scanned the lot again. He took a cautious step forward and his heart jumped as something broke to his right.
Alt heard McRyan coming down the ramp right above him and then heard him slow down. Now he didn’t hear anything. Alt calculated he was scanning the cars, thinking he’d gone into the parking ramp.
Gingerly edging his way back up towards the elevator lobby, Alt moved to improve his firing angle. He stepped back with his right foot, the rifle aimed up at the parking landing. As he stepped back, he could see more of the landing. He stepped back again and could see even more. As he stepped back once more, he saw McRyan’s hands and weapon pointed out towards the parked cars scanning the ramp. One more step back. He planted his right foot and heard glass crunch under his feet. He fired.
The bullets ripped at the loose right sleeve of Mac’s windbreaker as he dove back to his left, and the shots flew over his head. His service weapon was a popgun next to that damn assault rifle. The shots stopped, and he heard running again. Alt was going for the bottom. He had to be, it was the only way out.
Mac gave chase, hitting the third elevator level, and pausing briefly. He could still hear Alt running a whole level below him.
He kept after him, going back east to the fourth parking level and made the turn at a sprint back down to the last elevator landing. He turned to his right and stopped. In twenty feet he would be exposed coming down the last walking ramp. Alt was already in the cars he thought, waiting in ambush for him.
Mac quickly assessed his options. The sirens were way in the distance, although it was hard to tell eighty- feet below the main street level now. He looked at the last thirty feet of walking ramp. At the bottom on the right side of the cement half wall was a large square pillar. If he could reach the pillar at the bottom, he’d have cover. Mac stuffed the gun in his pants and crab-walked sideways down the walking ramp, staying below the top of the half wall.
At the bottom, Mac lay on his belly and pushed himself to the edge of the pillar and peeked around the corner.
Alt got down to the last level of the ramp and ran straight into the sea of cars and trucks. He needed to find something to hot wire. A white Chevy Impala was in the far row, near the exit for the ramp, the perfect car to boost. But McRyan was coming, and Alt had to take care of him first. He got to the third row of cars and ducked behind a Ford F-150 pickup with a camper top. The position left him a good angle at the walking ramp. McRyan had to come down, and he’d hit him when he did. He heard McRyan get to the last landing. Then the running stopped.
Alt trained the rifle at the walkway, waiting for McRyan to come. But he didn’t. The assassin edged out a little from the back of the truck, looking at the ramp, scanning from the pillar at the bottom, back up the walking ramp and then back down to the pillar. Where was he?
Mac saw the feet move, black dress shoes, next to a pickup truck with a camper top. He quietly pushed himself back and rolled to a sitting position. He set his gun in his hands and pushed himself up, his back against the pillar. He had more protection if he turned to his left, the half wall protecting his lower half, and he could duck behind it if need be. If he turned right, he would be totally exposed. He exhaled, turned to his left and fired.
The shots hit the camper top. Mac knew he missed, but he had position now and could wait him out. “Alt,” he called out, “there’s no way out of here.”
Sirens in the distance were louder now, zeroing in on their position. “The cavalry’ll be here any minute.”
Alt was trapped. McRyan knew it too and was calling out to him.
Then he heard it to his left, to the west, and he had new life. A hundred feet away a car pulled into the ramp.
Alt took off at a full sprint, his weapon up, pointed at the car, a hostage, and keys-a way out.
Mac saw it too and was out from behind the pillar, running at a full sprint, firing at Alt, missing wildly. He got off three shots before his clip ran out. He reached with his left hand into his back pocket and grabbed his last clip, looked down briefly, popped it back in and raised his gun again looking for Alt. The killer had stopped and was facing him. Mac dove away, but it was too late. He took a round in the left shoulder.
Alt knew he’d hit McRyan. He pivoted to run towards the woman again. Then to his right, another vehicle came down the spiral ramp, McRyan’s Explorer. Riley, was in the passenger seat, a gun drawn, scanning the garage. Alt fired at the Explorer, causing it to swerve left and careen into a parked car. Then a shot came from the right. Alt pivoted back that way.
Mac pushed up with his right arm and fired. His first shot missed. As Alt turned back towards him, Mac’s second shot caught Alt in the left shoulder, jerking his body hard to the left. Mac took a step forward and fired twice more, double tap, into Alt’s chest, sending him flying backwards against the trunk of a parked car.
Mac moved quickly towards Alt, his gun pointed at him the entire time. The assassin was slumped back against the bumper of the car, blood oozing through his white dress shirt, the assault rifle lying by his feet.
With his gun still pointed, Mac approached Alt and kicked the rifle away. The blood was dark, coming from the area of the heart. The sirens in the background would not come soon enough for him. The assassin was still conscious, but his breathing was labored. His head was drooping, but his eyes were looking up at Mac.
The rifle was by his feet, but, while his mind told his arms to move, they wouldn’t. Looking down at his chest, he saw the blood flowing through his shirt. It was dark purple, from the heart. Alt could barely get his breath now. It wouldn’t be long.
The assassin looked up to see McRyan approaching him, gun pointed straight at him. He kicked the rifle away. “How did you know we were coming?” McRyan asked.
Alt smirked, beaten by some Irish flatfoot kid. McRyan asked again, louder, kicking the inside of his right leg, “How did you know we were coming?”
Alt was fading now, things started to blur.
“How did you know we were coming?” Mac shouted a third time, but there was no answer. Alt’s chest stopped heaving, his breathing gave out, and his head fell to the left, resting against the bumper on the car. Mac checked for a pulse. The assassin was dead.
