I walk over to the main door and place my ear carefully against it, listening for any hint of movement outside.
…
…
…
I can’t hear anything. I didn’t give any of these guys a chance to call for back-up before I took them out, so I might be lucky enough to make it up one final floor without being spotted.
I grip the gun tightly in one hand and ease the door open with the other, creating a gap maybe an inch wide. I peek out. There’s no one in the hall that I can see.
I open it fully, trying to stay as quiet as I can. Cautiously, I peek out again, this time looking both ways. Still clear. Good. Now all I have to do is reach the elevator at the far end and ride it up a floor, and—
Shit!
I duck back inside as a guy appears at the end of the corridor. I wait a second or two, holding my breath…
I don’t think he saw me. I roll my eyes with relief. He must be patrolling the floor. Annoying, but not too much of an issue.
I chance another look out.
Double shit!
He’s not alone. There are three of them. They’re just pacing idly around in front of the elevators. I need to get past them, preferably without…
Wait a minute…
I look over my shoulder at the interior of the suite. Specifically, the layout and positioning of the rooms and other doors.
Lightbulb!
I gently close the door and walk quickly across the room, all the way to the opposite end. There’s another door here, which, if I’m right, opens up almost directly in front of the men, and, more importantly, the elevator. I forgot how big this suite actually is…
I crouch in front of it and peer through the keyhole.
Yeah, I was right. I can see the three guys standing in a loose triangle.
I tense my jaw as I play out in my head every possible way this could go down. I could do this several ways, but I don’t particularly want to kill them, which immediately reduces the number of options. Plus, non-lethal takedowns aren’t exactly my specialty…
I keep watching for a few minutes, until the guy closest to me is where I need him to be — namely, next to this door with his back to me. I stand and glance down at the gun in my hand, mostly for reassurance.
Don’t hesitate, don’t think… just do.
My rules.
I yank the door open and push the man in front of me forward, hard. He flies into his colleague, who’s standing side-on a few feet away, talking with the third guy. As the first two collide and fall to the floor, I rush out and bury my shoulder in the third guy’s sternum, forcing him backward into the small strip of wall next to the elevator. I feel the wind leave him and he sinks to the floor, out for the count. I spin around to face the other two, who are just starting to gather themselves and realize something’s not right. The guy I pushed initially had dropped his weapon, so I kick it away from them and aim mine at the second guy, before he has chance to think.
I gesture to the side with my head. “Throw your gun away, sweetheart.”
He glares at me angrily, but does as I ask. I kick it over to the other one.
“Now, both of you, on your feet, nice and easy.”
They stand and hold their hands out to the sides. I’m facing them with the elevator on my right. The one on my left smiles. “You have any idea what you’re doing, asshole?”
I shake my head. “Not usually. I figure it’s harder for people like you to anticipate my next move if I don’t know what it is myself.”
He doesn’t respond.
“Okay, whether or not you see tomorrow very much depends on the answer to my next question… How many of you are there on the floor above us?”
The men exchange a glance, then the one on my right looks at me. “The suite upstairs belongs to the prince. There’s maybe fifteen of us.”
And, of course… triple shit!
I nod. “This is good. We’re being honest with one another. Is there a way to the roof from here without having to go up a floor first?”
The first guy shakes his head. “No, you have to be upstairs. There’s a maintenance stairwell against the west wall, and a private elevator that runs up to the helipad. Why?”
I shrug. “I’m meeting some friends of mine up there, and I’m trying to avoid any more violence.”
The second guy smiles. “You’re shit out of luck there, man.”
“Story of my life… Right, here’s what’s gonna happen. You — call the elevator.” He does. I look at the first guy. “You — if you move before I want you to, you’re dead. Understand?”
He nods reluctantly. I look over at the elevator and watch the lights count up as it approaches.
“So, there are fifteen guys above us?”
The first guy nods again, but stays silent.
I raise an eyebrow. “Wonderful.”
Hey. Adrian. It’s me. Listen, I know we’re like, y’know, partners or whatever nowadays, but seriously, this is some dumb shit you’re planning on doing, you know that, right? I mean, you’ll be in a metal box, with nowhere to run, most likely facing a large group of armed guys who want to shoot you. You’re making it too easy for them, man. It’ll be like shooting fish in a fucking barrel! Listen to your Inner Satan, man… Find another way.
Believe it or not, I actually told Kaitlyn about my Inner Satan in one of our early sessions. I didn’t call him that, but I told her I had this voice in my head sometimes. It wasn’t as if I had an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other… It was more like my devil had grabbed a hold of my angel, snapped its neck, and was now just whispering sweet nothings in my ear while drinking whiskey.
She had laughed at the analogy, and then launched into a detailed explanation as to why people like me — and by that, she means people suffering with survivor’s guilt or whatever — seek independent reassurance or support for our actions. And if we can’t find it, we create it, to help us get through the ordeal we’re re-living.
I didn’t have the heart to tell her she was way off, and I am, in fact, listening to one of my more prominent and useful demons.
But I’m—he’s right. Simply going up in the elevator is pretty stupid. Which is why I’m gambling on them not expecting me to do it.
The elevator arrives with a ding, and the doors slide smoothly open. I gesture toward it with my gun. “Inside, both of you.”
They step into the carriage and I follow quickly behind them. I maneuver myself behind them and press the button for floor sixty-six. I raise my gun, holding it with both hands, keeping them covered. “Now turn around.”
They both comply as the doors close and we begin the short ascent.
I’m taking slow, deep breaths, keeping myself calm. It’s so easy in situations like this to allow your adrenaline to flow freely and let your instincts take over. I know, because I used to do it. Whenever I was neck-deep in shit like this, I’d just step aside and let my Inner Satan take over. He was the side of my personality that cared very little about my own well-being. He simply got the job done in times when I couldn’t find the strength to do what I needed to.
But nowadays, that doesn’t happen. I take my time. I access that hidden reservoir of violence when I choose to, and use it the same way I use my gun. It’s nothing more than a weapon I’m trained to wield.
DING.
The doors slide open. I take one more deep breath, and time slows to a crawl. My eyes flick in all directions, absorbing every detail of what lies before me, allowing me to plan my attack.
Ahead of me is a wall of windows that offer a breathtaking view of the city outside. There are three steps leading down from them into the middle of the suite. Six men armed with SMGs are standing casually in a line, holding their weapons loosely by their sides. Just in front of them, standing either side of a low, glass table in the center of the room, are two more guys — equally armed, and equally casual.