It felt like he was having a heart attack. Given the shape he was in, that wasn't entirely out of the question. He ran flat out down the alley and then headlong around the corner without looking back. He ran to the far end of the complex and then paused to look back. Not seeing anyone coming, he quickly surveyed his surroundings.
A creek ran along behind the buildings on the opposite side of the street, and beyond that were the tracks for the GO train. To his right, about a hundred yards away, was Midland Avenue and traffic, lights, people, and his car across the road. But that was the obvious route, and he’d likely be cut off before he reached the road. Looking again down along the back of the complex the way he’d come, he came to a decision and ran in the direction of the creek, trying to stay low.
To reach the stream and double back along behind Silver Star Boulevard, he had to pass right by the end unit housing Ultimate Diecasting, where the other burglar was inside right now finding out that he’d been tricked and there was no new contract. How long that would take him was anybody’s guess.
Martin huffed and wheezed and kept on running. Why hadn’t he kept in shape? The most exercise he got in an average week was carrying his groceries out to his car. Frickin’ legs were on fire and his lungs were bursting. And it was so dark. He took a look behind him, trying to make out any movement in the half-moon’s light.
Not seeing anything in front of him or behind him, he slowed to a walk, and kept to the back of the row of dark industrial units, praying that somebody would be working late. He could just as easily be running toward the gunman as away from him. The problem was, he didn’t really know where the man was.
Coming to a gap between buildings, he peered around the corner. In the distance, he could see the lights of Midland Avenue, where he desperately wanted to be. He decided to risk a trip to the street front of the building to see what was going on.
He crept along beside the wall, keeping out of the light as much as possible. When he got to the front, he looked off to the right and then peeked around the corner to the left. The man was jogging towards him along the front of the building. Martin turned tail and ran as fast as he could for the back of the building and safety.
“Hold it right theyah, you fat fuck.”
Martin froze. He was just ten feet away from safety.
“Turn around.”
He slowly turned around to see the man holding the gun on him about thirty feet away from him. He was shaking all over, his heart pounding in his chest.
“Who do we have heah?”
“J-just an underwriter.”
“What da fuck is an ‘undahwritah?’”
“A paper-pusher. I was, um, out for a walk.”
“Brought yoah cell phone, cawffee, and chocolate foah yoah walk, did yas? Nice fuckin try, Einstein. Why don’t you come foahwahd a little so I can see who I’m going to be wastin. I don’t like to miss nothin.”
Martin walked forward a few steps into the light.
“Hey, don’t I recuhnize you? From da hotel. You was da fat bastahd on da elevatah, went foah choclit on ouah floah. Awright, what da fuck is goin on?”
Before Martin could answer, the sound of a police siren cut through their conversation and some bright lights pointed in their direction. The thug took a quick look over his shoulder and then locked back onto Martin.
“Freeze! Police! Drop your weapon.”
Neither of them moved or even looked towards the light. Martin had to squint, now seeing the man only in silhouette.
“Mistah Undawritah, I’ve awready killed one stupid fuck tonight, one moah ain’t goin to make a difference. You tink ahm afraid tah do hahd time? Specially up heah in Canada?” He looked over his shoulder.
Martin dove for the ground and rolled to his right as quickly as he could. Simultaneously, he heard the bullet hit the ground beside him and the phish! of the silencer, and then there were three quick shots. When he looked up, the man was on the ground and a police officer had his knee pinning him down. His head was spinning, the blood was pounding in his ears, people were shouting, and the lights were flashing all around him, so he closed his eyes just for a second, welcoming the blackness.
YOU ARE READING
Risk
Mystery / ThrillerMartin is a 38-year-old virgin marked for greatness by the insurance gods. In his professional life, he is paid to assess risk, but in his personal life he plays it safe. Experience has shown him that lonely is better than brokenhearted. George is a...