The camera shot in, focused. Myrna’s heart shuddered so hard in her chest she nearly fell over.
The screen showed Kruger, surrounded by four tough looking guys, stepping through a sliding door. There was an anxious expression on his face, as well as an injury of some sort which Tapperman could not define.
‘ Where the hell’s that location?’ he demanded.
Kruger, his four friends and a couple of other people were standing by a bank of elevators which would take them to the multi-storey parking lot.
The elevator arrived, the doors opened. A flood of people disgorged and dissipated. Kruger and the others stepped inside the large elevator, constructed to carry about twenty people plus luggage. A woman turned to him. ‘Which level?’
‘ The top, please.’
She pressed her own selection, then his.
Just before the doors eased shut, a big hand stopped the process and forced the doors to re-open.
Two extra people stepped in. A man and a woman… a couple, bickering about something, like they’d been together too many years.
‘ C’mon, you go damned bitch, we’re holdin’ people up here.’
‘ You stop bad-mouthin’ me, you asshole,’ the woman replied, apparently fuming with anger. ‘You ain’t done nothin’ but since we arrived.’
‘ Well, you deserve it, you lazy slut,’ the man said. To the rest of the people in the elevator he said, ‘’Scuse us.’ He yanked the woman between Kruger and the bodyguard to his left. ‘We’ll carry this on back here.’
Kruger’s expression did not change. His eyes showed no flicker of recognition. But inside, his stomach lurched. The hairs on the nape of his neck prickled with excitement. He hoped the guys behind him weren’t staring at his neck, otherwise the game would have been given away.
The doors closed. The elevator rose smoothly, stopping at various levels, allowing people to step out. No one else got in.
Kruger heard snatches of the couple’s argument which had been reduced in volume. It was clear there was a major domestic going on.
‘ You’ll be tellin’ me next it’s healed up,’ the man hissed. ‘I ain’t had it for weeks.’
‘ You don’t deserve it, the way you treat me.’
‘ Nag, nag, nag,’ the man said spitefully.
‘ An’ you do nothin’, nothin’, nothin’.’
Eventually the only people remaining in the tin box were Kruger, his four buddies and the warring couple, all obviously destined for the top level.
When the elevator arrived, the doors slid open.
Kruger was about to step out when one of his captors grabbed his elbow and held him back. Another said to the couple, ‘After you.’
‘ At last,’ the woman said, ‘a gentleman.’ She smiled maliciously at her partner.
‘ Bitch,’ hissed the man, shouldering his way out, pushing her ahead. They turned right.
Kruger got a shove in the ribs and stumbled out to the left. From the corner of his eye he saw the couple move towards a car.
Although they were on the top level, there was still a roof over their heads, and like most high-rise parking, the lighting was relatively poor.
Kruger led them towards his Chevy, parked at the very end of the level. His mind worked furiously, trying to decide what to do, wondering what Tapperman and Myrna, the perfect couple, had planned
… if anything.
Shit, shit, shit, he said to himself, trying to make a decision.
The closer he got to his car, the more certain he was he would have to make the opening move.
Without further thought he went for it.
He stopped abruptly in his tracks. The bodyguard directly behind him walked straight into him. The ones either side went on a few paces.
As soon as he and the man made contact, Kruger swivelled at the hips and in a flowing, single motion, rammed the point of his elbow into the man’s chest, connecting with the sternum. Kruger’s arm rose and he smashed the back of his clenched fist into the man’s face, making a wonderful, crunching sound, like a wooden ruler snapping.
The whole movement took less than a fraction of a second.
Even so, fast as it was, Kruger saw that guns were already appearing from nowhere in the hands of the remaining three team members.
‘ Move, Steve, move!’ Tapperman bawled.
Kruger looked up, saw Tapperman and Myrna about twenty feet behind. Tapperman’s body was fully exposed. Myrna was crouching over the hood of a parked car. Both had weapons drawn, ready for combat.
Kruger knew he had to keep going.
He grabbed the lapels of the nose-smashed bodyguard and swung him round into. the gunman to his left, pushed and let go. They mangled together with spectacular success. Using the momentum generated by this manoeuvre, Kruger dived down between the two nearest parked cars, into cover, out of the line of fire. Tapperman yelled, ‘Armed police! Drop your weapons!’
The two bodyguards who were not busy turned instinctively towards Tapperman, guns rising.
They moved instantaneously as professionals should when faced with a situation for which they had been trained.
The two bodyguards who had been positioned to Kruger’s left side and were therefore not affected by this startling move, spun on their heels quicker than ice-skaters to face Tapperman and Myrna. Their firearms were rising and aiming as they did so.
The one who’d had his face broken by the back of Kruger’s fist, though dazed by the blow, still had the presence of mind to drop to his knees so he would not get in the way. The fourth one, who’d watched Kruger disappear between the parked cars, threw himself to the ground between the cars nearest to him. He also had his gun ready and as soon as he hit the deck he was looking underneath the car towards where Kruger had landed.
This particular bodyguard was certain of one thing: even if this little task of theirs got flushed down the pan, Kruger would still die.
That was professionalism.
Tapperman saw them swinging around at an alarming rate. He noted the glint of firearms and did not intend to hesitate.
As both of the bodyguards were moving at roughly the same speed — lightning fast — there was little to choose, target-wise. So, because Tapperman was standing on Myrna’s right-hand side, he chose to shoot the guy on his right.
Part of Tapperman’s mind begged Myrna to bag the one on the left. He knew he could take out one of them but only one. There would be no earthly hope of taking two.
Myrna had to act as quickly as he did — and go for the correct target.
‘ Shoot, Myrna, shoot!’ he pleaded silently.
The pad of his right forefinger pulled the trigger back.
The wind whooshed out of Kruger’s lungs as he thumped down onto the concrete floor. For a brief moment he did not move, other than to open his eyes and look underneath the car to his left where he saw the bodyguard, who had decided that, come what may, he would kill Kruger.
The man’s gun was pointed directly at Kruger’s face and his finger was on the trigger.
Myrna wasn’t consciously going through any thought process. She stood there, half her body protected by the cover provided by the car she stood behind. Her feet were positioned shoulder-width apart, knees bent, but flexible.
