Tom Barber - One Way

Suddenly, another of the gang members appeared from the south stairwell. He had a pistol in his hands. Archer had his back to the man and didn’t see him. Still holding Archer, Vargas desperately whipped her Glock from the holster on her hip and fired a split-second before the gunman. She hit him in the leg then fired again and hit him in the chest. He collapsed to the floor and was still.

She tried to keep the Glock up but it fell from her fingers and she clung onto Archer with both arms, sucking in deep breaths, recovering from the electric shock. As she did so, he turned and checked over his shoulder. The guy she’d shot was dead.

They sat there in the basement, her chest heaving, both of them bloodied, bruised and beaten up.

And above them, the detonator kept flashing, hooked up to the C4 that would demolish the building at any moment.

Downtown on West 30th Street, Shepherd car’s swept into the estate, Hendricks having just quickly shown the guard on the front gate his badge.

As they sped into the compound, the two Sergeants saw the rotors of an NYPD Agusta A119 helicopter already whirring at full speed; Hendricks had ordered it to be ready and waiting, the vessel flying over from the NYPD’s helicopter base in Floyd Bennett Field, Brooklyn.

Screeching to a halt, the two men stepped out, slammed the doors and moved around to the rear of the vehicle. It was a Counter Terrorism Bureau Ford, not Shepherd’s own car, so it contained the standard issue weapons and equipment stowed in the back. Shepherd ripped open the trunk and they both started pulling on bulletproof vests, locking them in place, NYPD printed on the front and back in thick white lettering. Pulling two Mossberg shotguns from stowed positions in racks inside, Hendricks grabbed a box of ammunition and passed one of the weapons to Shepherd, who slammed the door shut.

The two Sergeants ran across the tarmac towards the chopper, pulling open the door and climbing inside. Securing the door behind them, Shepherd grabbed a headset and pulled it on as Hendricks started loading his Mossberg, pushing shells into the breech. Up front, two pilots from the Aviation Unit were ready to go.

Both of them were looking over their shoulders, peering at the two Counter Terrorism Sergeants.

‘We going to the building?’ the lead pilot asked over the helicopter intercom.

‘Make it fast, Lieutenant,’ Shepherd said.

‘You sure that’s wise?’

‘We have people trapped inside. They’re running out of time.’

The pilot looked at him, well aware of the ESU chopper that had been dropped. Then he nodded. Loading his own shotgun, Shepherd watched the helipad shrink as they rose into the air above the rooftops, the lights of Manhattan suddenly appearing as they lifted higher and higher.

Hendricks racked the pump on his Mossberg and held a support grip, the vessel turning and heading uptown fast.

On the 20th floor of the West 135th tenement block, Calvin, Bishop and Braeten were almost at the roof. With his M4A1 in one hand, Calvin looked at the detonator in the other. When the solution had come to him downstairs, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t considered it sooner. With the pace of events, the gunfights and explosions, he’d completely forgotten about the C4 explosive, timer and control switch they’d brought in one of the black holdalls.

That was the answer.

Demolish the building.

The moment he explained the plan to the others, their eyes had lit up. They’d lost six of their guys tonight; by blowing the place, they could abandon Vargas and chopper out. The moment they were within safe distance, they’d detonate. It didn’t matter where she was, the whole building would be destroyed, reduced to a heap of dust and rubble. She’d go down with it and they’d be out of here, making their escape. Calvin smiled as he moved up the stairs, thinking of her hiding somewhere in the building, barricaded in with the asshole helping her and the kid, figuring if they just waited it out they’d be saved.

The three men arrived on 21, passing Gibbons’ body in the stairwell, lying in a pool of blood. Stepping over their dead colleague, Calvin and Fowler saw Taylor, aka Hearts, sprawled in the corridor where he’d been shot. The demolition would also take care of their bodies; CSU would probably find enough to ID at least one of the dead cops, but by then Calvin, Fowler and Denton would be out of the country.

Breathing hard, they raced to the stairwell that led to the roof, pushing open the door and running up the final set of stairs. When they arrived, the trio ran towards the heap of dead ESU officers in the centre of the roof. They grabbed them, dragging them out of the way to make space for their chopper which was already on its way. Denton had remained downstairs, fixing the explosives and insisting on lying in wait until the last minute in case Vargas appeared. He wanted to shoot her himself, not blow her up. Calvin knew Denton had something personal to settle with her, so he left him down there, telling him to not wait long and haul ass when he hit the stairs.

Calvin checked his watch; he’d better be on his way up by now. They sure as hell weren’t going to wait for him. Two of Braeten’s guys were still down there too, hunting for her. It still wasn’t too late for one of them to hitch a ride out of here with Calvin and his team. He couldn’t care less either way.

Checking his watch, he pushed down the pressel on his vest.

‘Knight, where the hell are you?’

He waited. Denton didn’t come back.

‘Ben, get your ass up here! We’re not waiting!’

He looked over at Braeten, who was dragging the last ESU officer out of the way by his heels, the body leaving a trail of blood on the concrete behind it.

‘Where the hell are your guys?’

‘I don’t give a shit,’ he shouted, well aware of the time. He dumped the body to the side then pulled his pistol out of the back of his waistband. ‘Let’s go!’

Running into the lobby, Archer pulled his cell and dialled Shepherd, following Vargas. They smashed into the north stairwell and climbing over the pile of dead bodies, started running up the flights. If it was just the two of them, they could break a 1st floor window and climb out.

However, they had Carson and Isabel ten floors up, both completely unaware of the sudden new level of danger they were in.

As he raced up the stairs, Archer felt faint and dizzy but willed his body to give him one last spike of adrenaline. The wound on his stomach burned but he ignored it. He could feel hot blood leaking into the waistband of his jeans. He’d never felt so tired, but he fought his way up the stairs, his lungs bursting, his thighs full of lactic acid. In front of him he saw Vargas was struggling too, still recovering from the aftermath of the electric shock.

4.

5.

6.

The phone was to his ear, still ringing.

Then Shepherd answered.

‘Archer! Talk to me!’ he shouted. The background noise on his side of the call was loud and intense.

‘They’re cops, sir!’

‘Say again?’

‘They’re all Miami PD!’ he said, sprinting up the stairwell behind Vargas, who was grimacing and struggling in the aftermath of the electric shock. ‘They’re planning to blow the building!’

‘ Hendricks and I are on our way in a chopper. Get to the roof!’

The black unmarked helicopter that had brought Calvin and his response team to the building was approaching from the west. The pilot moved across the Hudson and headed towards West 135th. Up ahead, he saw the smoking wreckage from the ESU chopper in Riverbank State Park by the water. Two fire trucks and some NYPD squad cars were surrounding it in a cluster. There were no other choppers around the building, which made him smile. It seemed what had happened to the ESU team had deterred any other pilots from risking taking a hit. It would make their escape a hell of a lot easier.