The Vanishing Virtuoso

Chapter 12: Gunfight on Floor 13

Mercer and Grange reached the top floor, their senses alert and weapons ready. The thirteenth floor of the old mill was a maze of catwalks, dimly lit by flickering overhead lights and the occasional moonbeam filtering through broken windows. Dust hung thick in the air, stirred up by their hurried footsteps.

"Stay close," Mercer whispered, his voice barely audible. "We don't know how many more there are."

Grange nodded silently, her eyes scanning the area for any signs of movement. They moved cautiously through the labyrinthine structure, each step calculated to avoid alerting the guards below.

As they approached a large, central area, voices drifted to them along with the metallic clink of weapons being readied. Mercer signaled for Grange to halt. He cautiously peeked around the corner and saw a group of armed guards, at least ten of them, gathered around a table strewn with maps and documents.

"Looks like we've found their main hub," Mercer whispered to Grange.

Grange nodded, her expression grim. "We need to take them out, but quietly. We can't afford to get pinned down."

Mercer's eyes scanned the area and spotted a series of metal catwalks overhead. "Let's get up there. We'll have a better vantage point and can catch them off guard."

Grange nodded, her gaze focused on the ladder leading up to the catwalks. "I'll go first and make sure it's clear."

Mercer gave her a quick nod, his eyes briefly lingering on her as she ascended the ladder, appreciating her skill and determination. He shook off the distraction and followed her silently, moving with practiced stealth.

Once they reached the catwalks, Grange signaled to Mercer that it was clear. They moved into position, their weapons ready and hearts pounding with adrenaline. Below them, the guards continued their discussion, unaware of the danger lurking above.

"On my signal," Mercer whispered, his voice low but resolute. "Now."

They opened fire simultaneously, their shots precise and deadly. Two guards fell instantly, surprise and confusion spreading among the others. Chaos erupted as the remaining guards scrambled for cover, returning fire in all directions.

Bullets ricocheted off the metal catwalks and machinery, the sound deafening in the confined space. Mercer and Grange moved swiftly, their movements synchronized as they utilized the catwalks to their advantage.

One guard managed to climb up to the catwalks, wielding a submachine gun with practiced ease. He sprayed bullets wildly, forcing Mercer and Grange to dive for cover behind a nearby machinery.

"We need to take him out!" Grange shouted, her voice barely audible over the gunfire.

Mercer nodded grimly, recognizing the threat the guard posed. He drew his prized possession, a golden Colt six-shot revolver that had never failed him in the heat of battle. The revolver gleamed in the dim light, a testament to Mercer's experience and determination.

"I'll handle this," Mercer said, his voice steady despite the chaos around them. "Cover me."

Grange nodded, laying down suppressing fire to keep the guard's attention diverted. Mercer moved with calculated precision, his movements calm and deliberate even under fire. He waited for the perfect moment, his eyes locked on the guard.

When the opportunity presented itself, Mercer took careful aim and fired. The shot rang out loudly in the confined space, echoing through the mill. The bullet struck true, hitting the guard in the shoulder. He staggered back, dropping his weapon with a cry of pain.

Mercer didn't hesitate. He advanced quickly, his revolver still trained on the wounded guard. The man, now disarmed and clutching his bleeding shoulder, tried to crawl away in a desperate attempt to escape.

But Mercer was relentless. He fired again, this time aiming for the guard's leg to immobilize him. The guard collapsed with a grunt of pain, unable to continue fleeing.

Grange approached cautiously, her weapon trained on the subdued guard. Mercer kept his revolver steady, his expression hard as he stood over the fallen adversary.

"Who are you and why are Diggers hiding here in this crumbling old mill?" Grange demanded, her voice firm and commanding.

The guard sneered defiantly, his eyes filled with hatred and fear. "You don't know what you're getting into. The Digger Gang has connections everywhere. You'll never stop them."

Mercer's jaw tightened, his resolve unwavering. "We'll see about that."

He signaled for Grange to secure the guard, and together they began searching the area for any additional threats or clues. The adrenaline of the firefight still coursed through their veins, but they knew their mission was far from over.

"We've taken a big step tonight," Mercer said, his voice low as he glanced at Grange. "But we still need to find Julian Carver, his last symphony and uncover the full extent of the diggers plans."

Grange nodded, her expression determined. "Let's finish what we started."

They moved through the thirteenth floor cautiously, checking every room and corner, ready to face whatever awaited them next. The final confrontation with the Digger Gang was drawing closer, and Mercer and Grange were prepared to see it through to the end