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This time, even though the situation is serious, he’s the same. There’s something reassuring about that. More than ever, I feel that Kai is a lot like me. He’s a man, and he comes from a long line of chieftains, but in the modern world, he’s an outsider. Whatever he does, nothing can make that change.
I’m feeling that we should take the talk to the office or a rest area, but Tai says, urgently, “We think there were four men. We’re still looking for two of them.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
With his voice low, Tai tells us, “They came in dressed in chef’s whites. They must have stolen swipe cards from someone but I can’t see how they got past the biometric security checks. What I saw on the security recordings, they don’t look like any of the staff.”
We decide to split up. Tai heads off toward the service corridors.
Alessio and I draw guns and Tai pulls out a long knife with a wide, vicious blade and we start to prowl the corridors.
Alessio is getting ready to head down to the restrooms when I hear a sound. A fast movement. Two men in chef’s whites run out of the locker room and down a hallway. They’re wearing paper protective face-masks.
Alessio and I turn after them. We rack our weapons as we run. He shouts into his watch, giving details to his security detail.
We turn a corner after the men. Too late, I realize,
“It’s a trap.”
When the two men in whites reach the end of the hallway, they turn. There’s nowhere to for us go.
In a blur, Alessio and I both dive. We slide on the tiled floor. Guns up. Firing straight ahead. Bullets rip in a hail into the chef’s tunics. I shout,
“Body armor!”
The men have their weapons up and ready. Alessio and I keep firing.
Alessio rolls and shoves me aside, against the wall. He skids in front of me, rising on one knee. Body-blocking. Shielding me completely. But now he’s the target and I can’t see past him.
He still has his motorcycle helmet on his arm, on the crook of his shoulder. He holds that out, in front of his body. It means that he only has one hand to fire. However skillful he is with the helmet, he’s bound to catch a bullet.
I feel like the world plunges into slow motion. Like a dive in a dark pool. My heart pounds, but I feel the rhythm of the beat.
With the gunmen protected by Kevlar, only their wrists and ankles are reliable target zones. They both have strong firing stances. Feet parted, weigh balanced.
Still firing, I roll to the other side of the corridor. My plan is to draw fire and confuse them, but they’re too well trained.
Almost immediately, the one on the left tracks and shoots at me. The other is still firing at Alessio.
But I see his forearm is exposed. Taking as slow a breath I can, I wait for my heartbeat and squeeze on the trigger. the Sig Sauer jolts hard in my hand. I feel the pull, up and right.
I don’t wait for the result, I know that shot was clean. I aim at the ankle of the one on the left. Before he can fix a solid aim on me, I get two shots off. The small burst in the wall behind his leg tells me I missed.
I reverse my roll. I can’t afford to be still. Not for an instant.
But I see his gun steady. It’s aimed right at my chest.
From beside me, Alessio’s gun sparks. A tiny cloud of dust and sparks bursts from the gunman’s weapon. The gun shakes as it spits fire. A shower of bullets whistles and whines as they whip past me.
Alessio springs to his feet. He runs hard and fast down the corridor, firing two handed.
I get up and run as fast as I can behind him. He’s deliberately blocking my way though. Still acting as a shield.
My heart aches for him. I love him for doing it. I wish he would give e a clear line of fire, though.
His foot pounds the floor. He runs like a truck at the two men.
He’s shielding me. I can see that he’s aiming and firing at the one on the left. the one who targeted me. I scored a hit on the other shooter’s dominant arm. He slides down the wall but, as he does, he’s taking the big machine pistol in the other hand.
