Chris spoke quietly, like a ventriloquist, barely moving his lips. “I see him.” He continued to watch, trying not to think about him, trying not to alert any sixth sense the man might have.
“Three-van motorcade just turned down Duke of York Street,” Hannah said. “Vans are dark colored.”
A sudden dump of adrenaline tweaked Chris’s senses, causing the volume of his hearing to amplify and fade.
“Sunshine, they’re right behind a sedan,” Hannah said. “As soon as the sedan pulls out, block the road. The vans are right behind.”
“Roger.”
A white sedan pulled out of Duke of York Street and turned onto St. James Square. Sonny was so close behind that it looked like he was about to scratch the sedan’s rear bumper. Sonny came to an abrupt stop, blocking Duke of York Street and the lead van. The van didn’t honk as the Range Rover had. Was the driver showing the discipline of a courteous citizen or the discipline of an experienced terrorist?
Sonny stepped out, appearing frustrated at his vehicle, and began his act. Then he approached the driver’s side of the first van.
Chris quickly scanned the civilians nearby. He didn’t recognize any of them, which was a good thing. He didn’t want anyone hanging around who’d seen Sonny’s act with the Range Rovers to become suspicious and call the cops.
“Business Tourist is moving toward Sonny’s position,” Hannah said.
Chris’s gaze shot back to the man, who carried something down by his side. Chris couldn’t see it clearly, but in his bones he felt it was a handgun or other such weapon. Sonny’s attention was on the vans, so it was Chris’s responsibility to protect his teammate’s flank.
“Business Tourist has something in his hand,” Hannah said, her voice slightly shaky. “Could be a gun.”
“Possible gun, aye,” Chris said.
Sonny’s verbal exchange with the driver seemed to go on for a long time. Getting no help from the first driver to push Sonny’s vehicle, Sonny proceeded to the second van. Stepping to the side for a better view of the second driver, Chris maintained an eye on Business Tourist, who was still moving in Sonny’s direction.
Chris still had no foolproof confirmation that a gunfight was about to take place, but he knew action was faster than reaction. He planted his feet like a boxer about to deliver a knockout punch, dropped his newspaper, and swung one side of his jacket out of the way, freeing his M4, which he brought up and aimed at Business Tourist. At about the same time, Sonny jumped away from the driver’s side of the second van. He must’ve seen something from up close that Chris couldn’t.
Then he saw it. The driver pointed a pistol at where Sonny had been standing. Pop! The driver’s side window blew out, and a pedestrian screamed.
In one fluid motion, Chris shifted his red dot to the driver who’d taken the shot. He held his breath so his lungs wouldn’t sway his body and squeezed the trigger once. Twice. Two puffs of air sounded, and the mixture of gas from the muzzle and the burning of oil in his weapon mixed into a sweet smell. The windshield imploded on the driver, causing his body to jerk. Two direct hits. Where the window broke, there was a white splash surrounded by spiderweb-like rings and lines, making it difficult to see if the driver was moving.
“Business Tourist definitely has a gun,” Hannah finally said.
He swiftly transitioned his red dot back to Business Tourist, who was now raising what was clearly a pistol, bringing it to aim at Sonny, who now had his M4 out, too.
Chris popped Business Tourist once in the middle of his back. And then a second time. Business Tourist fell, biting the asphalt. Another civilian cried out, followed by more. Nearby people ducked and scattered.
“Sunshine! Third van, Sunshine,” Hannah said. “Passenger in the third van aiming for you.”
Chris moved to the side so he could see more of the rear van. Sonny had already opened fire on the passenger there, so Chris would immobilize the vehicle by taking out the driver. Two puffs and the body drooped like a glove without a hand, head resting on the steering wheel.
The lead van sped forward and hit Sonny’s “stalled” vehicle with a smack and pushed it out of the way before turning onto St. James Square and proceeding towards UKP. The van behind it, riddled with bullets from Chris and Sonny, rolled forward into the intersection but didn’t make the turn. A black taxi sped around the square and plowed into the van with a horrific metal crack, smashing the front of the taxi and knocking the van over on its side. The taxi driver appeared pinned between the steering wheel and his seat. He wasn’t moving.
Behind the first two vans, the third van didn’t go anywhere, but Lullaby and nine of his men — armed with AK-47 assault rifles — poured out of the tail of the vehicle. Chris tried to take a shot, but Lullaby ducked back behind the van before he could squeeze the trigger.
Sonny was vulnerable standing in the open without any cover or concealment, and he must’ve seen how outnumbered he was because he sprinted toward Chris, who covered him by laying suppressive fire into Lullaby’s group.
“This is gonna get uglier before it gets prettier,” Sonny said, huffing and puffing as he sprinted.
The first van had stopped in front of UKP. Its back doors flew open, and a tall blond man jumped to the pavement — Lullaby’s protégé. He was a handsome man who could do ugly things. Then an armed gang of close to a dozen appeared.
Hannah reported the appearance of Lullaby’s protégé and his men.
If we weren’t outnumbered before, we’re clearly outnumbered now.
She must’ve continued to report, but Chris’s visual senses overrode his hearing. Lullaby and his men faced Chris and fired at him from near the third van. Sonny jumped over a fence surrounding the park area, and just after he weaved into the trees, an explosion lifted the tipped-over van completely off the street. The earth quaked, and Sonny stumbled.
The van must have been packed with explosives intended for UKP. The bomb was probably shaped, so if the van had been positioned on the street next to the curb, most of the damaging force would have been directed at the UKP building. But with the van on its side like it was, most of that blast went into the ground, causing the van to lift into the air. Its flight was short-lived, though, as it fell like a discarded toy next to the gaping hole in the earth it had created. A geyser sprouted up out of the ground like Old Faithful, spewing chunks of asphalt with it.
“What the hell?” Sonny shouted.
“Must’ve ruptured a water main instead of the intended target,” Chris guessed.
“You see Lullaby?”
“He’s behind the third van, but I can hardly see the van or the enemy through Old Faithful.”
Hannah didn’t chime in so she must not have been able to see him, either.
The number of civilian screams increased, and the volume of the steady noise became louder. They were in panic mode. The blare of nearing police sirens added to the racket. Droplets big as tadpoles streamed down Chris’s face. At first he thought it was from the broken water main, but it was raining again.
“Chris!” a voice screamed from the chaos. Lullaby. “I know you are here. I will find you, and I will kill you!”
1
Chris wore his clerical collar and minister suit, standing with a young couple at the wedding altar, trying to calm his anxious nerves. There were times he’d been shot at and was calmer than he was now. But there were different kinds of being shot at, ranging from direct hits to blind misses, and this was still closer to the blind-misses end of the spectrum. For Bobby and JoAnne this was the most important moment of their life together, and Chris didn’t want to disappoint them.