Джеймс Паттерсон - Ambush

She was smart and professional. It did her no good to answer me. She was trying to protect her position while I just kept giving mine away with my big mouth.

I stole a look around the counter again to make sure no one had wandered into our gunfight. I noticed a couple of people trying to hide in the corner of the room behind a table. I was quite sure everyone in the business offices was cowering in a corner or under a desk. On the bright side, there had to have been dozens of calls made to 911.

Time was on my side. The problem was the assassin realized that as well. She would have to make a move soon.

I just hoped to God I’d be ready.

Alex had made it as far as the lobby without anyone questioning her. She even said hello to the pretty blond receptionist behind a tall counter. Then she heard the sound coming from the hallway to the business offices. Someone was pounding something hard. Her guess was that it was Detective Michael Bennett knocking down the door.

That gave her an idea. One last chance to salvage something from this miserable day. She eased forward as though she were headed toward the front door, then ducked behind a thick decorative column a few feet from the exit.

She was out of sight when she heard Bennett say to the young woman behind the counter, “NYPD. Did anyone come through the lobby?”

That’s when Alex leaned around the column with her pistol up and fired quickly. Too quickly. The bullet missed Bennett and struck the unsuspecting receptionist in the face. Alex couldn’t see exactly what had happened, but she knew she had killed an innocent woman. Shit.

The idea made her angry at Bennett. He had forced this. He wouldn’t let her just get away. She had to kill him. Now.

When she leaned around the column again, she saw Bennett tumble out of the way and roll behind the counter. He yelled to her to surrender, and she used his voice to approximate his position so she would know where to shoot.

After a couple of her shots missed, he returned fire.

They were in a stalemate, but she was the one who had to move. She had to get away. She wanted so desperately to end this contract and kill Bennett, but she had to consider all her options.

If she sprinted for the exit, she’d be away from cover, and it would take time to open the glass door. That would give Bennett time and a clear shot. She had no doubt he’d take it.

She leaned back against the column and looked out at the East River. No one was racing from that direction to help the detective. She could see a park and open sidewalks. That was where she needed to be. Out in the open. At least making an attempt to get away so she could head back to Colombia as soon as possible. She could picture her girls squeezing her when she came back to the ranch.

She raised the pistol and fired three rounds into the wide glass window. She knew the sound of the gunshots would keep Bennett behind cover. This was not safety glass. It was more decorative and cracked uniformly between the three bullet holes.

She stood up and risked it all by throwing her body against the crack in the window.

She braced for a brutal impact, not knowing what the shattered glass might do to her skin. But it gave way, and she tumbled onto the sidewalk, virtually unharmed.

Alex considered running to the river, but then it might be easy to cut her off. She decided to stay on the studio property and come out in a place where no one expected her. She wasted no time jumping to her feet and racing along the sidewalk that led to the other side of the building.

She didn’t see Bennett in pursuit, so she kept her remaining bullet in case she ran into other trouble.

I needed something to happen. I know that sounds crazy, but lying on a carpet next to a dead woman can screw with your head. Then I got my wish. From my cover position behind the receptionist’s desk, I heard gunshots and braced for the impact on my thin wall of protection. Then I realized the shots weren’t directed at me.

I heard another noise and glass breaking. That made me pop around the edge of the desk with my gun up. I didn’t have a clear view of anything, but it looked like the assassin had fled through a broken window.

Then I heard other people in the lobby. Women sobbing and someone calling out for help.

I crawled back and checked the receptionist for a pulse, but I could tell before I even put my finger to her throat that she was dead. I had to check.

I stood up behind the counter and saw a woman helping an older man from the office area. Other people were starting to stand, too. I didn’t notice them in my tunnel vision as I ran into the room.

Just as I was about to bolt for the door, the woman with the older man said, “Thank God. The police are here.”

I couldn’t ignore them no matter how much I wanted to chase the assassin. I could hear sirens in the distance and knew help was on the way. The arriving cops just needed to seal the area before she could escape.

When I stepped around the counter, the woman with the older man was right next to me, and the man almost tumbled over.

I grabbed him before he hit the floor and said, “Were you shot? Are you injured?”

He shook his head feebly and pointed to his chest. I eased him onto a bench, but before I could loosen his collar and really make an assessment, a man who had been hiding in the corner of the lobby ran up to me and said, “The woman who shot Tia ran that way on the outside walk.”

I peered out the window in the direction he pointed but didn’t see anyone.

A middle-aged woman hustled toward me and said, “Don’t let her hurt us. Please — you have to protect us.”

“You’re safe now. Let me help this man.” I had already holstered my pistol, and I could see this man was starting to go into serious distress. But I couldn’t help thinking about the killer who was running away without anyone chasing her.

Just then the door opened, and a young patrol officer, in a fresh uniform and with shoulders almost as wide as the door, stepped inside.

He called out, “Are you folks all right? We’ve had reports of a gunfight going on somewhere on the property.”

I yelled over my shoulder, “Michael Bennett, Manhattan North Homicide. Get over here. We need help.”

The earnest young man raced to me, never asking for identification.

I even felt a little guilty pawning this whole set of scared people off on him. I said, “Get fire rescue rolling for this man. We’re looking for a female with long dark hair about thirty years old. She’s armed and has already shot at least two people. Get on your radio and put it out to everyone right now.”

I didn’t wait for a response. I was up and running out the door before anyone had anything else to say.

I thought about what Father Alonzo had told me. Use my advantage. Understand the city.

Then I had an idea.

As much as Alex didn’t want to admit it, she was scared. Fear is a killer in this business. It saps your strength and keeps you from thinking straight. She didn’t know anyone who wouldn’t be a little shaken after what she had just been through.

All she wanted to do now was to put some distance between herself and the shooting scene. When she turned the corner of the long building, she noticed people pouring out into the parking lot. There was no order or supervision.

The idea of someone with a gun spooked everyone. That meant no one was using common sense or paying attention to the surroundings. That was exactly what she needed: chaos.

Alex slowed to a walk and pulled her blouse straight. She spent a few seconds making her hair neat and professional. She mingled with the crowd but continued to walk in the same direction, to the opposite side of the complex. There had to be a street with taxis near there.