Not dead yet, but not going to make it, either.
The noise of the two shotguns discharging inside that confined, reflective corridor was monumental. It sent me staggering, but instinct had me diving for Sean, trying to get him out of the danger zone. Keith had cowered down of his own accord. I didn’t particularly care what happened to him anyway.
“Hold your fire, goddamn it!” Brown bawled. He glared at Mason, fighting for control. “You trying to have half the cops in the state on our backs with that racket? Goddamn it, I didn’t mean do it here.”
Haines’s Smith & Wesson had appeared in his hand the moment Chris had made his play and he held it now to cover Sean and me.
“If you don’t mind me making a suggestion,” he said to Brown with exaggerated politeness, “we need to get the hell out of here right now.” His eyes flicked contemptuously to Mason and the other man. “Security in this place will have dialled nine-one-one soon as they heard those damn cannons go off.”
Brown considered for a moment, expressionless, then inclined his head. “OK. Mason, bring the vehicles round to this exit. And let’s round up some of those guns, shall we? Before we have any more trouble.”
Delegating in turn, Mason jerked his head to the two men behind Whitmarsh and Lonnie. They moved forwards quickly, collecting the Beretta and the Remington, retrieving Chris’s nine-mil from his unresisting hand with obvious distaste. As Lonnie handed his shotgun over I caught a twinge of regret. Maybe he was wishing he’d pulled the trigger when he’d had the chance, after all.
Mason reclaimed the gym bag from inside the office doorway and the pair of them stashed their armoury inside, taking it with them as they went out through the glass doors a little way back along the corridor.
There was a moment’s silence after they’d gone. Whitmarsh’s tongue wiped nervously over his lower lip.
“So, what are you gonna do with us?” he asked.
“Well, if there’s one thing I can’t stomach, Jim,” Brown said reflectively, “it’s people I can’t trust.”
“We were just trying to get them both for you,” Whitmarsh said, hurried now.
“Didn’t happen to kinda mention that change of plan to me, now did you?” Haines put in.
“There wasn’t time. I—”
“Plenty of time to get Lonnie and his shotgun into position under Henry’s place, though, wasn’t there?” I asked, using a mild tone to disguise the wedge I was trying to hammer in between them. Divide and conquer.
Haines’s eyebrows went up then came straight down again as the import of that sank in. “So it was you wasted Chico?” he murmured, glancing at Lonnie. “And there was I thinking the chick had picked up some more armament. I shoulda known it couldn’t be her.”
He turned to Brown, waving a careless hand towards Whitmarsh and Lonnie. “You want I should get rid of these two when I do the others?”
It was like he was offering to empty a waste paper basket.
Brown shook his head, though frowning like he’d given it serious thought. “We still need to get a hold of the boy and I have plans for Mr Whitmarsh,” he said grimly. “After he’s handed over everything useful he got from Keith, he can be the one who gets to dump these three. Take all of them back to the resort and out into the swampland at the back of the place. Wait ‘til sundown and in a coupla days there won’t be much evidence left.”
“Livingston, for Chrissake, please!” Keith looked as if he were about to burst into tears. “You’re my friend. Don’t do this to me!” Not us, I noted. Me.
Brown regarded him stonily. “You ain’t delivered the goods,” he said. “You’ve kinda disappointed me, Keith.”
At the far end of the corridor I heard the quiet clank of the push-bar being operated to open another of the doors from the seating area.
I tensed automatically, hearing the guns of Brown’s men come up. If it was another security guard, or some stupid lost kids, there was going to be more bloodshed.
A single figure stepped through the opening and froze as he took in the scene of carnage in front of him, his hand still on the latch.
My first reaction was horror but anger wasn’t far behind.
“Trey, you dumb little bastard!” I yelled at him, furious. “Get out of here!”
I broke into a run towards him, like I could scare him off. Before I’d taken more than two strides Haines had swung round and caught me a stinger across the base of my skull with the butt of the Smith & Wesson.
The blow was hard enough to put me on the ground. I went sprawling onto my hands and knees, jarring both wrists in the fall. I stayed down, fighting against the pitted blackness that was enveloping my vision, waiting until the floor was steady enough for me to attempt to rise.
At the same moment Sean had ducked his head and charged the one of Brown’s men who was nearest to him, regardless of the weapon. He’d swept the man off his feet before the other reacted. By the time I looked round Sean was on the ground too, braced against the blows that had put him down and were continuing to keep him there. Well that explained why Brown had contracted in Haines and Whitmarsh to do his dirty work for him. His own guys had come close to being beaten by a man who, quite literally, had both hands tied behind his back.
Haines ignored that scuffle. He leaned over and put the barrel of his gun next to my left eye. The blued steel was cold against my skin.
“Give yourself up or watch her die,” he called to Trey.
The kid hesitated, then he edged further into the corridor, skinny shoulders rounded in defeat. He didn’t even move when Haines left me and went forwards to grab him by the arm, dragging him back to where Brown was waiting.
When the boy tugged against the punishing grip, Haines shook him like a rag, almost throwing him down rather than releasing him. Trey glowered and rubbed his arm where Haines’s fingers had left reddened marks.
My head had cleared enough for me to look up at him.
“You stupid little brat,” I said bitterly. “Don’t you ever listen?”
He scowled some more, defiant. “I couldn’t just, like, leave you here.”
Haines chuckled. “Well isn’t that cute?” he said. “Now you get to all die together.”
“No, no, we can work this out, surely?” Keith said. He hurried towards Brown, eager, keeping slightly ducked and submissive. “I didn’t know Trey was working on the neural net independent of me. I mean, he’s just a kid, y’know? I had no idea he’d made such progress with it.” He shoved his glasses back up his nose with a grubby finger and rushed on, his voice almost a gabble. “I need to check out his data, of course, but maybe I can knock it into some kinda shape. Maybe I can still give you what you want. Just give me another chance!”
“‘Me’?” Trey said, his voice quietly cutting. “‘I’?” He’d gone very still, watching his father with simmering resentment. “What d’you mean, ‘maybe you can knock it into shape’ huh? It’s my work, not yours!”
Keith gave a high-pitched nervous laugh, eyes darting from side to side. “Now now, Trey, don’t let’s argue about this now son, huh?” he said, in that strained way parents have of speaking out of the side of their mouths when their children are about to monumentally embarrass them in a public place.
“No,” Trey said, folding his arms across his chest so his fingers were tucked under his armpits, just leaving the thumbs out, like he was feeling the cold. He shifted his weight down onto one hip, confrontational. “Let’s talk about it right now, Dad.”
“What’s there to talk about, for Chrissake?” Keith snapped, the tension getting the better of him. His hands were a constant jitter. “I evaluate what you’ve done and, if it holds up, I incorporate it into the program. End of story.”