‘Two cops on Maynard have spotted the Russians. I just hope to God they hang back until they can get these guys in the clear, or we are going to have a genuine, grade-A clusterfuck. Look at all these people – nothing but shields and hostages.’
‘Oh my God.’ Kelsey’s fear grew stronger.
‘The tactical situation here is completely skewed in their favor,’ Nolan continued. ‘What we need is a handful of two-man teams on the ground, roving in the crowd, and a sniper team up above if we’re to have any chance of taking some of those men alive without killing a lot of bystanders.’
‘Dmitri,’ Josef said in a low voice. ‘Police.’
Leskov looked to the left. About twenty feet back, two uniformed police officers carefully waded through the crowd, moving in their direction. The younger of the pair tilted her head slightly as she spoke into a microphone clipped to her shoulder.
‘Continue moving,’ Leskov quietly ordered. ‘It’s probably nothing.’
Evgenii led the team right, veering away from the approaching officers. A concrete parking structure spanned over the midsection of the street, casting a dark, cool shadow where they walked. The crowd thickened in the sheltered space, seeking some relief from the sun.
‘Excuse me,’ the senior cop announced in a stern, serious voice.
Pivoting on his left leg, Kiril quickly spun around and drove the ball of his right foot into the side of the cop’s head. The momentum of the vicious spin kick flung the man headlong through a plate-glass window and into a large bookstore. The officer lay in a torn, bloody heap atop an overturned floor display of anthropology texts.
‘Officer down!’ the younger cop shouted into her radio as she drew her weapon.
In a swift, fluid motion, Josef drew a 9-mm Glock from the holster concealed against the small of his back, aimed, and fired three rounds through the woman’s chest. She fell back, collapsing on the pavement.
A woman screamed, and the crowd on Maynard Street panicked, spreading out away from the scene like a rippling aftershock.
‘Move!’ Evgenii shouted as he pushed a couple into a booth of hand-tooled leather goods.
The metal frame supporting the light fabric roof over the booth buckled as the couple grabbed for anything to halt their fall. They toppled through the fabric wall into the next booth, setting a domino effect in motion that brought the seven consecutive booths down to the ground. Ceramics, jewelry, and blown-glass art crashed onto the pavement and was trampled by the fleeing throng.
Josef holstered his weapon as the team moved toward Liberty Street. Leskov’s team pressed farther into the crowd, hoping to lose themselves amid the chaos.
‘Shit, gunfire!’ Nolan growled as he broke into a run toward Maynard Street, leaving Kelsey in his wake.
He took defensive cover behind the pillars at the end of the arcade, scanned the situation, and moved out into the street. Kelsey emerged onto Maynard just as Nolan reached the officer who’d been shot. The crush of people emptying out onto the adjacent streets turned the area into complete chaos. Several bystanders were trampled, including artisans who were crawling out from beneath the wreckage of their booths.
‘She’s dead,’ Nolan pronounced angrily. ‘What a fucking waste.’
He rose, looked around, then spotted the other officer through the shattered plate-glass window. Kelsey followed, and they traipsed over the debris from the ruined booths and stepped into the bookstore. Carefully, they lowered the fallen cop onto the carpeted floor.
‘How is he?’ Kelsey asked as Nolan checked for a pulse.
‘Unconscious, and cut to hell.’
Nolan pulled the microphone off the cop’s shoulder and keyed the switch. ‘This is Kilkenny. There are two officers down on Maynard between Liberty and William. One’s dead and the other needs a medic, stat. Over.’
‘Help’s on the way, Kilkenny,’ Ptashnik promised, his voice filled with concern. ‘Where are the fucks who did this?’
‘They’re somewhere on Liberty, probably heading west, away from the fair. They’ve done what they came to do, so they’re looking to exfiltrate. Kelsey Newton is going to stay here with your people until the ambulance arrives.’
‘Where are you going?’ Ptashnik asked.
‘I’m going to try and get my hands on these guys for you.’
‘Don’t you even think about it, Kilkenny!’ Ptashnik shouted.
‘You’re going to have to trust me on this one.’ Then he cut the transmission.
Nolan turned to echo the same thought to Kelsey, but before he could say a word, she handed him the wounded officer’s weapon. After checking the safety on the SIG-Sauer P226 and clipping the police radio to his waist, Nolan turned and disappeared down the street.
35
Ann Arbor, Michigan
Kilkenny cautiously approached the intersection, edging alongside a brick building that housed a copy center in its basement level. He slowly peered around the corner and saw that the Russians were moving west down the center of Liberty Street, between the parallel rows of booths that temporarily occupied the metered parking spaces.
He moved onto the sidewalk, using the booths as a screen between himself and the Russians. At the end of the block, he passed a seven-foot-tall bomb, painted like Old Glory, that stood beside the entrance of a militarysurplus store. The Russians cleared the last booths and stepped onto the sidewalk opposite Kilkenny – about half a block ahead of him. He easily picked them out in the thinning stream of people.
‘Ptashnik, this is Kilkenny. Over.’
‘I read you, Kilkenny.’ Ptashnik sounded pissed-off. ‘What’s happening?’
‘The Tangos are still on foot moving west on Liberty. They crossed Division and are nearing Fifth.’
‘Oh my God! He’s got a gun!’ a woman screamed when she saw Kilkenny crossing Liberty with his weapon drawn.
Leskov and two of his men turned at the scream and saw Kilkenny. The Russians immediately broke into a run toward Main Street.
‘Shit! They spotted me,’ Kilkenny cursed into the handset. ‘Tangos are heading toward Main.’
The radio chattered with commands and responses as the police drew their forces in. Officers on foot and in cars moved to cordon off the two-block stretch of Main Street where the cop killers were headed.
The Russian in the rear position turned and aimed his weapon. Kilkenny dove behind a parked minivan as the man fired; two rounds shattered the vehicle’s windshield. The sounds of gunfire cleared the sidewalk for two blocks as people ran for cover. Ahead, the Russians pressed forward into the thick crowd on Main Street.
‘They’re on Main, heading north from Liberty,’ Kilkenny reported.
He sprinted down the street, slowing when he reached the edge of the Art Fair’s downtown venue. Thousands of people had replaced the normal gridlock of cars.
The atmosphere was still festive as the panic of Liberty Street had not infected this area yet. The aroma of spiced lamb and onion accompanied the bouzouki music wafting from a Greek restaurant’s temporary sidewalk cafe. Up the block a nine-foot-tall inflatable Mongol warrior greeted passersby, encouraging all to dine at BD’s Mongolian Barbeque.
‘Ptashnik, Main Street is packed, and the Tangos are right in the middle of it. Where are those other cops?’
‘On the way,’ Ptashnik promised.
The police radio crackled as officers reported their positions, converging on the scene. Kilkenny pressed the two-way against his ear to better hear over the din around him. Frustrated, he pushed his way onto the sidewalk and began hurdling over the chain partitions that defined the outdoor seating areas of the Main Street restaurants.
