Chapter 15 #4
We find a decent apartment that faces the hotel and let ourselves in through the broken doorway. There’s still junk in the room, including children’s toys and shoes they likely outgrew, along with plenty of stuff that’s just wasted away ever since the tenants left.
I find a table with a broken leg to set my case on and then decide which of the rooms will work. The only issue is I pick a room with a window that won’t open, so I head to the next room and find that this one does open but won’t stay up when it nearly guillotines me right there.
“Looks like they were using this stick to keep it open,” Devon says as he wedges it in the window.
“It’s like a death trap,” I grumble, kicking a soiled rug out of the way. When I do, I get an overwhelming smell of dog piss and realize that I’m about to kneel in whatever nasty shit was left on the floor. Even so, I set up, glad for the fresh breeze washing some of that stench away.
“I’m surprised whoever owns that fancy-ass hotel hasn’t demolished this thing,” I say as I settle in and look through my scope. “Who wants to be looking at this shitty building?”
“I am too. Maybe the owners won’t sell,” Devon replies while he takes up position. “I told our team to try to keep the others near the windows to help us out. I don’t see any of them yet. They’re supposed to be dining up on the top floor.”
“I can see waiters moving around, so it looks like they’re preparing for them. I wonder if they’re just not there yet.”
“Possibly. You stay focused on the top floor. I’m scanning the lower floors,” he says.
I want to scan them too, but I stay where I’m told, focusing on anyone walking past, but they all seem to be staff preparing for the meal.
Devon’s phone chimes and he pulls it out, annoying me a bit. We need our full attention on this, and if he really doesn’t want me scouting out the building myself, he can’t be looking away for even a moment.
He seems to read the text before turning his attention back to the hotel.
“Something wrong?”
“No, I was just checking if it was one of them,” he says. “Just my wife. Wants to know what I want for my birthday dinner.”
“When’s your birthday?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Oh! Happy early birthday.”
“Thanks. I’m wanting some seafood… man, that sounds good.”
“It does,” I say. “Don’t make me hungry. While they get to feast in that fancy hotel, I get to starve.”
He chuckles. “Still nothing yet?”
“No. But the waiters are obviously prepping for something.”
“That’s good, at least. Just strange.”
I notice Devon hesitates and wonder if he’s hearing something through the earpiece. He leans into me.
“You have a second to listen to this too?”
“Yeah,” I respond, but before I can say more, he holds up one finger. He leans down, and I assume he’s going to have me listen in, but I can tell he’s noticed something.
“Something’s wrong, just… fuck,” he says. “Fourth floor from the top. Second window from the right.”
I quickly shift away from the people setting the tables and over to the window he’s directed me to.
There are two people standing in front of it.
One man I can barely see. I can only see his hands when he waves them around while he talks.
The other has his back to me but is wearing a dark hat and gray pinstriped suit.
“Man on the right ? —”
“Gray pinstriped suit, black hat,” I say.
“Yes. That’s our target. Shoot him.”
I hesitate. I guess not seeing a gun in his hand makes it harder to pull the trigger.
“Cal, don’t fucking hesitate. Eddie just identified him to me. Our cover has been exposed and he knows. He’ll fucking slaughter all three of them if we don’t get them out of there.”
“But the moment I shoot, the man on the left will draw back.”
“You have to have faith in the other people on the team, Cal. You don’t have to shoulder this alone. Now pull the fucking trigger before they wind up dead.”
So I pull the trigger.
The man’s back is to me, so he’s not expecting it as he’s thrown forward, hitting the ground.
“Contact.”
The other man draws back while I anxiously search the windows.
“I can’t see the others,” I say.
“Just stay steady.”
“They’re going to avoid the windows. We need to get our team out. What are the others saying?”
“Eddie, are you getting the other two out? We have your backs… They’re heading out the south exit.”
“I don’t have fucking eyes on the south exit,” I say.
“They have to do what’s safest,” Devon replies, and I know that but hate that I’m useless up here.
“Right… right…”
I stare through the scope, trying to scan the hotel. I see movement all around, but none of them are our people.
My stomach tightens. “Where are they?”
“Eddie, where are you?” After a moment, he shakes his head. “They’re probably not in a position to talk.”
“They should have been out by now.”
“Cal, you’re panicking. Calm down.”
That’s when we see movement heading toward our building—not just one guy but five or more—and they’re smart. They’re well aware that by hugging the building, I can’t get them from this angle.
“Let’s move. Quickly,” Devon orders as he grabs my arm. “MOVE. Leave the gun.”
I don’t want to leave it, but I understand that moving without a large rifle will be the fastest. Together we start down the stairs, but when I hear people at the base of them, Devon tugs me into a hallway and begins rushing toward the other stairs.
“Fire escape,” I say as I see an open doorway and push him inside.
The balcony door sticks, but he jerks it free while I go for the open box holding the ladder to climb down.
I slide it into the slot and Devon heads down it as it swings with his movement.
I hurry after him before I spot someone coming around the corner.
I aim my handgun and shoot the man, forcing him to draw back for cover.
“What the fuck have we gotten into?” I ask.
“Just keep moving,” he says.
“Where are Tate and the others?”
“I haven’t heard anything from them yet.”
“Fuck. Get the car. When we call for you, pick us up,” I say as I rush past him and run toward the hotel before remembering that I don’t have an earpiece myself to contact him with.
“Don’t you fucking dare. You get your ass back here!” he yells.
But there’s absolutely no way I’m going to turn my back on any of my people. There are three of them in there, and while I know they are all phenomenal at what they do, I’m best with a gun and I’m going to do whatever I can to get them out unharmed.
The door leading into the building is thrust open by a worker, so I dash toward it, but as I push my way through it, I’m immediately blocked by panicked people flooding out of the hotel.
They’ve heard the gunshots and want out, no matter the cost, as they push and shove toward the door.
A woman slams into me and rams me back against a doorframe that cuts into my back, but I push in deeper.
I wish I had the fucking earpiece so I could at least communicate with them and figure out where they are in this large hotel.
A gunshot sounds above me, causing more hysteria, but it at least gives me a location to head toward as I move toward the stairs.
I rush up them while others move down, bumping into me, but thankfully the crowd is thinning.
The only issue is that I don’t know where the bad guys are among the innocents.
Hell, one could lift a gun and shoot me in the head since I’m making it quite clear that I’m not a panicked guest. The seventh floor is the one I’d assassinated the guy on, so do I go there?
But if Eddie said they were heading down the south side, I should go that way, right?
I slip into a hallway and run straight down it until I end up in the south stairwell. What if they’ve passed me? What if they’re already out and I’m risking my life running around here?
Fuck…
I pull out my phone and try Tate, even though I know he’s not going to answer since he has it turned off.
The call goes straight to voicemail, so I try Eddie. I don’t have Audrey’s number, but it’s evident none of them are going to answer. And if they make it to the car, then of course one would call me.
I pass hallway after hallway without seeing any of my people. And when I reach the seventh-floor landing, I rush onto it. Devon said they were already heading toward the south exit, so it’s useless to go farther… surely they wouldn’t go up, right?
That’s when I hear a raspy breath and I hesitate, hand on the stairwell railing. I turn toward the noise, gun held tightly in my hand as I move toward them in case it’s one of mine. I check my surroundings before slowly looking around the wall where I see Tate sitting.
“Tate,” I quietly call as I rush toward him.
His head jerks up and I see blood dripping from his mouth.
“C-Cal? Cal, I’m scared,” he whispers while he reaches for me and when he does, I realize he’s removed his hand from a wound on his chest. It hits me that the raspy sound he’s making is because he’s been shot in the chest and his lung has likely been punctured.
“Fuck, fuck,” I mutter as I use the knife in my pocket to tear my shirt, balling it up and pressing it against the wound.
Tate jerks back with a gasp, but I don’t stop. Instead, I tie two strips of my shirt until I can wrap them around him and tie them tightly over his wound.
“Where are Eddie and Audrey?”
He opens his mouth, but he can’t seem to find the words as he points down the hallway.
If either of them is wounded, there’s no way I can carry two out at once.
But if they need help, I would be leaving Tate here to die.
He needs immediate attention. And it’s not like the people who shot him are going to patiently sit here while the ambulance comes and takes him away.
“Come on, come on,” I say as I gently help him to his feet. He sinks onto me, but he takes his first step.
“S-Scared, Cal,” he whispers.