“DROP THE GUN!”
Jackson and Blackwell spun around. The police officer from the street corner stood there, his sidearm aimed at Jackson. “Put down the weapon, asshole.”
“We’re investigators,” Blackwell said. “This is a federal case.”
“Show me your badges.”
“I’m afraid that’s classified.”
“Bullshit.”
Lewis began tepidly retreating as the men argued.
“Show me your goddamn badges,” the cop said. “Several witnesses say you shot this man.”
“He was trying to get away,” Jackson said.
“Show. Me. Your. Badge.”
Neither of them moved. Keeping the gun aimed with one hand, the cop moved his other to a radio clipped to his shoulder and pulled it closer to his mouth. “This is Lasky, I’m on the northern bridge at Vegas and Flamingo. Requesting backup–”
Blackwell rushed forward and grabbed the officer’s gun-wielding hand, forcing it skyward. The weapon discharged. The remaining observers screamed and fled. They struggled for a moment, then Blackwell whipped the cop’s arm downward and Lewis heard it break. The officer screamed, then the man in black pulled him to the railing and aggressively threw him over the barrier.
Lewis watched the man sail down through the air, arms flailing, and crash headfirst through the windshield of an oncoming SUV. It passed under the bridge and there was a squeal of tires as it careened out into the intersection. Seconds later, Lewis heard the screeching metal and shattering glass of a multi-vehicle pile-up.
He didn’t turn to the other side of the bridge to look. Instead, he turned and ran like hell. He realized that Blackwell knew exactly what he was doing: creating a distraction for all the cops in the area. The focus would be off the two of them – for the moment. The officer was dead before he’d been able to radio their description.
A set of escalators and steps stood to his left, but Lewis kept sprinting straight down another, wider staircase ahead that led toward a towering casino complex. A giant globe sat atop the dark, modernist, glass-paned building with a space shuttle swinging on a set track around it. The words “The Orbital Hotel & Casino” were emblazoned on the side in glowing blue letters.
Without thinking and gasping for breath, he staggered toward it as he came off the base of the steps.
A blast of cold air hit him as he burst through the front revolving doors. The entire area was lit with blue and magenta lighting from the floors, the ceiling, the walls, everywhere. Even the chairs and tables of the casino, a massive sprawling area that stretched off to his right, were lined with lights. Some softer fluorescent bulbs shone down from the ceiling.
Directly ahead lead out into a large atrium, and off to the left was a row of shops with big screen advertisements along the walls and windows like something out of Blade Runner. All in all, the place felt like he had just stepped onto the set of a sci-fi movie.
Mustering the last of his strength, Lewis bolted for the casino just as Blackwell and Jackson came through the revolving doors. He barely registered the pain in his leg as he began weaving through the network of tables. People from all over the world in clothing from business to casual sat playing blackjack, craps, roulette, and various forms of poker. Their contemporary attire almost seemed out of place in the futuristic setting.
His running, panicked expression, and bleeding leg drew many glances as he made his way toward the rows of slot machines and other automated games. He looked back and was surprised to not see the two men in black right behind him.
Then he realized why. Blackwell and Jackson were keeping to the edges of the casino area, one on each side of it. They walked with brisk, determined paces.
The claws of fatigue finally dug into him enough that he was forced to slow, a slight limp in his step. The vast sea of card tables finally gave way to the slot machines; he ducked into the nearest row and took a seat, keeping his head down.
Lewis brought his fingers to his temples. He needed to think, but he didn’t have much time. The only hope for escape was to hide somewhere. Jenna had managed to get away from Jackson in a crowd, but at this point, he didn’t have enough energy to keep running. He needed to trick them.
All the people around him were engrossed in their gambling, not even bothering to look as he slid off the chair and crawled along the black, carpeted floor to the end of the row. He peered out and couldn’t see Blackwell or Jackson in either direction. That meant they’d continued around the edges to try and find him in the maze of the machine games. He couldn’t risk darting back through the card tables. One of them might look back and spot him, and even with his head start he didn’t think he’d be able to outrun them.
Carefully, Lewis crept around the side of the slot machine to his right at the end of the row. He stood up and peered over the top, his eyes scanning for his two pursuers. He spotted Blackwell by some solitaire machines but didn’t see Jackson anywhere during his quick glance.
He crouched back down again and took a deep breath. Time to make a move.
Lewis got up and began walking at a normal pace, trying not to draw attention to himself. Past the other machines stood a large opening out into the hotel’s central atrium. He could see a large, dark pillar in the center that appeared to be surrounded with holographic imagery of stars and planets. Several people stood by the metal railing, looking up.
His eyes flicked to the right. Blackwell still hadn’t noticed him and was moving deeper into the maze of vice. Jackson had yet to make a re-appearance. It wasn’t until Lewis reached the atrium that he saw him angrily pushing people aside along the back wall of the casino. He was a charging bull, his face contorted in rage.
And he was headed straight for him.
Lewis walked faster as he entered the atrium and strode straight for the railing, taking in his surroundings. The hall was large, extending upward at least ten stories, and descending one floor to a lower level beneath. Directly below him was some kind of vending cart, it’s roof no more than a ten-foot drop.
Jackson came tearing out of the casino, making a beeline right for him. “Stop!” he screamed.
No time to hesitate. To the horror of the onlookers beside him, Lewis slid his legs over the metal railing and plunged down, his arms windmilling wildly as the top of the vending stand came up to meet him. He bent his knees on impact but it was rougher than he expected and he toppled over the edge. Most of his body slid off, but he managed to grab enough of a hold to prevent himself from falling.
The surrounding crowd emitted gasps as he dropped to the ground of his own accord and brushed himself off. He looked back up and saw Jackson dart away from the railing, trying to find the nearest staircase.
Lewis turned and pushed through the onlookers, heading away from the atrium. This direction appeared to lead to more shops, but he saw a darkly lit corridor coming up on his right. He slipped down it and tried all the doors. One labeled “Maintenance Storage” was mercifully unlocked, and he tore it open, slipped inside, and slammed it behind him.
Immediately everything went pitch black, and he stood there catching his breath in the blackness for several moments, his head resting against the door. It had all happened so quickly. He’d gone from finding out Jenna was missing, to being kidnapped, to running for his life, to witnessing a policeman get murdered before his eyes, to jumping over a railing in the middle of a casino atrium to make his getaway. And now he was here, holed up in some closet in the basement of a place he’d never been before, two armed killers scouring the building to find him.