Part 15 (1/2)

I ran through the office next door, ignoring the frantic calls from the receptionist. I found a way out into their parking s.p.a.ce that backed onto the gallery. It was too much to hope for a door to the gallery that had been left open, but at least there were windows I could see through.

One of them was open on a latch, letting air circulate. I crouched down out of sight and gave it a quiet shake, but it was too strong to force open. Peering over the sill, I couldn't see any movement inside. But I could hear men arguing, and a child crying.

The receptionist appeared at the office's back door and was about to step out into the parking lot. I got the HK out of the shoulder holster. The thing is huge-there is no way she couldn't see what it was. Her hand flew to her mouth and she disappeared back into the building, slamming the door shut behind her.

She'd be calling 911. Good. I pulled the police radio out and tried beating her to it.

”This is Officer Farrell. I'm in a parking lot behind Galera del Sur, on Cheyenne. I have reason-”

The radio squalled in the way it does when someone tries to override you.

”Farrell, you're suspended, you stupid b.i.t.c.h. Get the f.u.c.k off the radio.” Buchanan's voice was distorted by his screaming into the microphone.

I closed my eyes and paused, then went on. ”I have reason to believe the kidnappers of Emily Schumacher are in the gallery. I'm requesting immediate situation team on site.”

”Farrell-”

There was a choked-off noise followed by silence, then the dispatcher came back. ”Got that, situation team alerted.” He'd pa.s.sed the buck to whoever was running the team.

A minute pa.s.sed and I found out who that was. Morales' voice came on. ”Farrell, are you sure?” At least he wasn't debating my current employment status with the police.

”Yes, Lieutenant. I can hear them arguing, and I can hear her crying.”

”The team is on its way. You keep back and you do not do anything.”

The vampires had gotten it together enough to get out of sight. If they were rational enough for that, their argument might be about how the h.e.l.l they were going to get away now. They wouldn't be aware that I was here, or a SWAT team was on the way. As far as they were concerned, their best bet would be to split up and walk away.

They wouldn't leave any witnesses if they did that.

Only a few minutes, but it might be too late when the SWAT team arrived.

I was trained in hostage rescue. Certainly well trained enough to know that going in with a single handgun, no other weapons or distraction, no Kevlar vest, and no other protection was 'outside parameters,' as my instructors had put it. Meaning it would likely get me killed and almost certainly get Emily killed too.

It was hot, crouched down next to the window. My senses seemed sharpened. I could hear the dull roar of the ventilation fans from the office across the parking lot, the cars pa.s.sing in the street, music blaring from one. I had the feeling of time slipping through my fingers, like dreams on waking.

What would Top do?

Master Sergeant Gabriel Luther Wells had been my touchstone in Ops 4-10. Any combat situation where I had time to think, I figured out what he would do, then did it.

I could almost hear him now, his deep, steady voice calming me.

I'd once asked him what he was afraid of. His reply had been succinct-failure. If I went into the gallery and failed today, I was unlikely to be in a position to regret it. And one thing he couldn't advise me on was vampires.

The smell of them was oozing from the building, as if all their emotions made their scent thick as fog. It was a sickly, bra.s.sy smell. The word vampire pounded in my head in time with my heartbeat. The sort of creature that had bitten me in the jungle. The sort that had killed my squad. The ones who'd killed Valerie. And Marcel. My breath came quicker.

”Listen, Farrell, the SWAT team will be there in five minutes. Just hold on. Do not precipitate anything. Do not go in that building. These people are trained for this sort of situation.”

So am I.

”I can't hear you, Farrell.”

”I heard what you said.” I was never going to get away with that evasion with Morales; he was too smart.

”Farrell, you stay where you are. You have no backup. Those men are armed. They have killed two policemen already-”

”Hold it. They're shouting now.” I strained to make it out. ”I don't like this.”

It started with one of them shouting, and now all three were going at it. Some argument about getting away.

”Farrell, you will stay outside.” Morales was shouting too, the radio distorting his voice.

Emily screamed.

My sight locked down. Everything seemed crystal clear and somehow distant. I dropped the radio. It bounced on the sidewalk, buzzing with noises that meant nothing. The main door was too far away, too obvious, too secure. Emily had run out of time. The sick b.a.s.t.a.r.ds had picked her for a snack and were getting ready to run away. They wouldn't be taking Emily with them.

I rocked back and looked at the window I'd been crouching beneath. I wasn't really planning. I had no idea what the building looked like inside, or where they were. I had nothing. It didn't matter. I hurled myself at the window and exploded through it.

Gla.s.s was still falling as I rolled and came up with the HK in front of me. The first vampire was there, standing over Emily. He was turning, his face a mask of surprise. I fired. Tap, tap, tap. The way I had been taught in Ops 4-10. Chest, chest, head, and I didn't miss at that distance.

Target Antonio down said a calm, slow voice in my mind. Two targets and nine rounds remaining.

Ten yards further in, Rodrigo leaped up an open frame set of stairs to s.n.a.t.c.h a shotgun from a pile of gear. Mistake. The only thing that would stop me was a threat to Emily, and she was lying on the floor behind Antonio's corpse, screaming, but well out of the way. I sprinted at Rodrigo, fired one shot as he ducked. My bullet went wide. I vaulted the railing rather than climb the stairs.

He backpedalled and fired. I felt the breath of the shotgun blast and fired back. I wasn't stationary, and even close up it's very difficult to sprint and shoot a handgun. I was lucky that the bullet tore at his thigh.

”s.h.i.+t!” He was distracted enough. The shotgun wasn't on me. I stopped and steadied. The first of my intended three round burst hit him in the shoulder and I held the second as he spun backwards. The shotgun went off again but his aim was wild. Even hit, he moved unnervingly quickly.

He dived behind a part.i.tion.

I ran forward and jumped, tucking myself in a ball and rolling as I hit the ground. I came up into a crouch, both hands on the HK. Tap, tap, tap. s.h.i.+t, he was so quick. I missed with the head shot. I had a flashback from the jungle, my team firing and missing, firing and missing. Figures like shadows in the trees.

Never make yourself a stationary target. Avoid moving where you're expected. I leaped to one side.

Raul was on the next flight of stairs up. He had a shotgun as well and he fired into the area between me and Rodrigo. I snapped a shot off at Raul to keep him occupied as I jinked again.

Rodrigo was still fighting, trying to get a clear shot even while his life blood was spurting from chest wounds. His hands shook, trying to steady. The shotgun roared again, missed, and now I was close enough. I slammed him against the wall, breaking ribs. His hand convulsed and the shotgun fired into the ceiling. His blood was all over me, spurting from wounds and spraying from his mouth as we struggled. Then I rammed the HK under his jaw and blew the back of his head off.

I twisted around, holding his body as a s.h.i.+eld, but Raul was running. Up.

I pulled the Remington pump action from Rodrigo's dead hands. It was empty. I threw it aside.

One target and two rounds remaining.

I ran for the stairs.

The shotgun blasted a huge dent in the metal step I'd just pa.s.sed.