Hess looked down. The roof of the addition below did not look so wide anymore and it was sharply sloped. If his momentum carried him too far or if he rolled off, he would plunge more than forty feet to the alley below. But it was too late now to try anything else. The dizzy sensation that nearly overwhelmed him convinced Hess that thinking too much about what he was about to do was a bad idea. He could hear them outside the door. Any second now it would come down. He edged out onto the roof, gouging his nails into the slates to keep from sliding off too soon. Hess shut the window behind him and jumped.
With a grunt, the MP threw a powerful kick at the door. He planted his boot near the knob and the door flew open. Even in the darkness, Ty could make out the sniper sighting down his rifle at them from behind a shooting rest. Without thinking, he raised the automatic and fired. The MPs crowded past him into the room and started shooting. The noise in the small room was deafening. The muzzle flashes blinded him. Above it all, Ty could hear bullets thunk into flesh.
"Cease fire!" Ty cried.
The sniper had not moved. Dead, thank God. He took a step toward the figure and kicked away the rifle. He realized immediately that it wasn't a weapon that clattered to the floor. Ty was staring at a broomstick. He took another step toward the body of the sniper and nudged it hard with his foot. The body fell away from the table and sprawled on the floor. He looked down, his ears ringing from the gunshots. The dead eyes that stared upward belonged to an old woman. He and the MPs had riddled her body with bullets.
"Jesus Christ," said the big MP. "We killed an old lady."
"No," Ty said. "She was already dead."
"You mean she's not the sniper?"
"Not unless she used a broom stick to shoot at General Eisenhower."
"Then where the hell did this sniper go … sir?"
Ty tried the light switch, but nothing happened. He looked around the room as best he could in the darkness. There was not much to see aside from a bed, a dresser and now the body on the floor. The table where the dead woman had been sitting had a sack of birdseed on it, which would have made a good rifle rest. Bullets had ripped the bag open, scattering birdseed across the room. Someone had wedged a chair under the door, but the MP's kick had made short work of the flimsy door and makeshift barricade.
He crossed to the open window overlooking Pennsylvania Avenue. Far below, he could see another group of soldiers approaching. He thought he recognized Kit Henderson's familiar gait leading the way. Beyond the advancing soldiers, he had a clear view of the hotel entrance. The distance was such that Ty doubted he could have hit anything with a rifle, but then again, he was not a sniper.
The back wall of the room also had a window, which Ty walked to and threw open. Cautiously, he eased his head out to look. The ground appeared far away, but there were a couple of rooftops below. He thought he detected movement on the roof closest to the ground. What the —
"He went out the window. I'm going after him," he announced, then stuck his gun in his belt. He hooked one leg over the sill. He got a glimpse of the alley far below and felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. Ty fought off the sense of vertigo and swung the other leg out. Then he froze. Come on, this is no time to be afraid of heights. The sniper had done it. So could he.
Ty might have given up if a sudden wave of anger hadn't washed over him. How dare someone try to assassinate Ike. Of all the dirty, lowdown —
Ty got a good grip on the windowsill like he was doing a chin-up. His legs dangled freely in the air. If he missed the rooftop below, he would fall all the way to the concrete floor of the alley and be killed. Don’t think about that. The face of one of the MPs appeared in the window, looking concerned. "Captain, you sure about this?"
Ty tried to say something reassuring, but his voice caught in his throat. He let go and fell through space.
Hess hit the roof and rolled in a maneuver that would have impressed a paratrooper, dispersing the shock of impact. The rifle took a bad knock, but that couldn’t be helped. His momentum carried him right to the edge of the roof and his hands clawed at the slate, trying to stop himself from going over. He dug one foot into the gutter at the last instant and managed to brake himself. His heart, so quiet for hours before, pounded with adrenalin. He never liked heights, but it was something one dealt with, like the cold.
He heard several muffled shots from above but knew they were aimed at him. The sounds came from within the house. He knew they must be killing the old woman all over again. The thought made him smile.
Then he jumped again. The fall was even longer this time and his stomach rushed into his throat. Free of gravity, he felt the rifle strap slip off his shoulder. He tried to grab for it but at that instant his feet came in contact with the roof. The impact knocked the wind out of him. The kitchen roof was smaller but flat, and when he rolled he stopped well short of the edge. Instantly, he was on his feet again. Nothing broken, he thought.
Above him, he heard the window open, followed by a shout. He had been spotted. Scheiss! That was bad luck. He had hoped to get clear of the rooftop before anyone saw him. He looked up and saw the officer with the white scarf climbing out the window and getting ready to jump. Hess scrambled to grab the rifle and then slid over the edge of the kitchen room. He landed too hard on the concrete alley, feeling something give in his ankle. Pain shot through him and he just prayed nothing was broken.
He heard a thud above him. His pursuer was already on the kitchen roof. Crazy bastard.
Hess tested his ankle. The pain was bad, but he could put his full weight on it. He started at a limping gait, favoring his injured ankle. His car was parked just down the alley. Once he was behind the wheel, he would be all right.
A crash behind him signaled that his pursuer had also landed in the alley and tumbled into the trash cans that Hess had missed. Damn. The man chasing him was either very brave or very foolish. With his bad leg, Hess knew he wouldn’t have time to reach the car before the other man caught him. He ducked out of sight behind a section of fence that divided two backyards, unslung the Mosin-Nagant, and held the rifle butt-first like a club in front of him.
The second jump was easier. Ty landed heavily, then went over the edge yet again. This time he landed in the alley among a stack of trash cans, making enough racket to warn a whole legion of assassins.
"Goddamnit!" Nothing broken, but it hurt like hell, and he was now covered in some foul-smelling oily liquid that had been festering in the bottom of one of the cans. He got up and brushed himself off as best he could, discovering in the process that his automatic was nowhere to be found. He heard a noise in the darkness that sounded like shoe leather scuffing on concrete. There was no time now to look for his gun if he hoped to catch the sniper.
He started down the alley in the direction of the noise. There was just enough light to see where he was putting his feet. Ty heard another noise, directly in front of him, and looked up just in time to see a rifle butt swing at his face.
The night exploded in starbursts of color and pain. He turned his face at the last instant so that the blow was more glancing than it might have been. Still, the rifle butt struck him hard along his cheekbone. Blind with pain, Ty swung wildly and felt his fist connect with something. Then the rifle butt slammed down again, and everything went black.