Troubleshooter

Chapter 40 - A Close Shave

TOM WAS still playing with the Scare-away when Amy came back with the coffee.

"I see that you managed not to kill yourself with it," she said.

"No wonder you are still single," Tom said.

Suddenly the front door burst open with a loud crack and the treat of heavy feet rushed towards them

Tom jumped up and Amy gave a small yelping noise of surprise. They stared toward the office reception, disbelieving what was happening. Two guys, dressed alike in jeans, boots, bomber jacket and tinted glasses—totally useless as it was already dark outside—and silly Beatles-style hairdos.

Danny-Boy came in right after Jigg. Both had knives in their gloved hands, and both looked like hoodlums, optimistically assessed.

Amy started to scream at the top of her lungs, and both gangsters turned to look at her. Without thinking, Tom stepped forward and fired the pepper-end of the Scare-away at the first man.

Is there more than one dose? he wondered too late.

Jigg received a full blast, blinding him and burning his eyes. He dropped his knife to shield his face, shocked by the initial pain. Danny-Boy made a snake-like attack at Tom, who stepped back but not in time. Danny's knife stuck Tom in his upper left arm. With his right arm, Tom swung the Scare-away toward Danny, but they were too close to each other, so that the baton end could not develop its full force. It merely punched Danny in the side of his head. He grunted in pain but clung to his knife, pulling it out of Tom's wound.

Tom screamed. Amy grabbed Tom's good hand that still held the baton and cried, "Run!"

They flew through the open office door and through the reception in the corridor..

"Fire stairs!" Amy screamed and ran ahead, slamming open the door.

Danny went over to Jigg, who was cleaning his face with his jacket sleeve. "Can you see, mate?"

"Yeah, it's coming back. Where did the bitches go? I'll kill them."

"That's still the idea. Gun out, we cannot afford to lose them," Danny-Boy said. They both ran out of the office. Elevators or running after them? The girl and the boy had about a fifteen-second head start, and they were probably young and agile. "We take the elevator down and catch them in the lobby."

Amy and Tom breathlessly made turn after turn after turn downstairs, not pausing for a second, not saying a word. Amy felt like fainting, throwing up, and migraine all rolled into one. Tom's arm hurt like hell, and he left a trail of blood drops on every other stair, but adrenaline was masking the worst and kept his body working. Third level, second level, mezzanine level, ground floor. Slamming the door open, they burst into the lobby.

Paul Trouble ran up the wide stair-portal that led to the main entrance of their office building. He was pushing his way through the stream of exiting workers who were making room with scared looks on their faces when they saw the ragged and injured man with only one arm—and a gun. He went through the revolving door into the lobby.

Amy looked around; no gangsters behind them. Tom gasped, and he and Amy stopped in their tracks. In front of them stood the two gangsters, both with guns stretched out in front, pointing straight at them.

"Nice try, mates," the pepper-spray victim with bloodshot eyes said.

"Time to die, sweetheart," the other guy said.

An extremely loud roar of a gun, and Danny-Boy's face suddenly exploded as the remains of a deformed bullet exited through the forehead, blood and gore spraying toward Amy, who numbly watched the silly Beatles-style hairpiece sail over her. Jigg turned slowly toward his companion to understand what just had happened. Then a second loud gunshot and his head met the same fate.

Paul came in running, gun stretched out before him. Two clones of the guys he had already killed were standing in the lobby, lifting their guns toward Amy and Tom, who just had come out of the staircase. If he shot now, he would also hit Amy or Tom where they stood behind the two gangsters, directly in the line of fire. Paul changed the angle of his shot by diving and gliding the last yards on the smooth marble floor until he could make it an upward shot. His detached soldier's mind had already made the decision to shoot at Amy's assailant first; she was the more valuable member of the team. So he did.

He didn't stop to see whether his bullet had hit its mark but moved his aim toward the next man. Paul briefly considered keeping the last attacker alive to ask what was behind the assassination, but the situation was too tight. His muscle combat skills simply moved the gun a few inches and blew out Jigg's brain as well. Paul stood up, gun still in hand, three bullets out. Just to be on the safe side, he shot both men once more.

The bodies hit the floor at the same time. Paul—still on the floor— scanned the lobby for additional threats.

Holding his bleeding upper arm, Tom stuttered, "Y-you j-just shot...."

Amy hiccupped, with wide eyes, completely shell-shocked, gore in her hair and over her dress. "You saved us, Paul Trouble; you saved us. And Paul, you lost your arm." She gave a hysterical giggle, crouched, and started to cry. Tom hugged her with his own good arm and pulled her close.

Complete pandemonium exploded around them. People were fleeing in panic from the lobby through the fire exits or back into the elevators, as the receptionist hit the police alarm speed dial.

Paul went over to the lobby reception desk and saw various people hiding behind it. He put down his gun and took out the phone he had taken from one of the gunmen. He dialed a number he knew from heart. A quiet, efficient woman answered.

"Paul Trouble. AoD. Morningstar. Shooting in front of Canary Wharf. Shooting in the lobby of Hobbs Tower. Contact General McAllister and involve Scotland Yard superintended Gordon. Trace the number that called this cell phone I am using two minutes ago and send an armed response team to the location to detain anyone found there."

He hung up without waiting for an answer. The call was recorded and immediately routed to the operation center anyway. Then Paul took the gun, placed it about three yards in front of him, and stepped back to the reception desk. No use in being by the police accidentally after surviving this.

Both attacks had not taken more than four minutes.

Bullet time went back to normal.