To start at the beginning of the story go here.
Whatever courage had allowed her to speed her way here transformed into doubt as Nika stepped towards the warehouse. So faintly she could barely be heard over the cooling fans of the automobile, she questioned the darkness. “Lanzo?”
I restrained an urge to grab Nika and drag her inside. Fortunately, Lanzo pushed past me to embrace her. In the dark, I heard a relieved sob. I’m not sure who it came from.
I knew it wasn’t me, though. Adrenaline was crashing through my system, lighting up every part. I buzzed there until they separated, but only by inches, staying close to speak in quick and heavily accented English. Whatever Lanzo lacked in stalwartness was compensated by the relief of being reunited. In the dim light of neglected streetlamps I could see the two stare at each other with bright eyes.
I felt Sophie slip an arm into the crook of my elbow, her satisfaction radiating from her. This kept me in check while my brain screamed to get the pair off the street.
With Sophie’s arm in mine I was able to ignore it for an unfortunate amount of time. I only listened when three fast cars whipped around the corner at the top of the block. They nearly collided with each other in reckless desperation, leaving me with no doubt who was driving. I grabbed Nika and Lanzo, pushing them inside the warehouse before blistering white headlights fell onto the car parked out front.
I herded everyone towards the rear of the warehouse, having to restrain myself from slapping anyone who paused in the darkness. Fortunately, Sophie pushed ahead, little more than a pale phantom, moving with a speed and confidence that came from having carefully scouted the floor. Between the piles of broken boxes, scrap metal, garbage and old pallets, I hoped Nika had arrived in practical shoes.
We managed to get to the rear of the warehouse before we heard the first yelling in Russian. Sophie had pried open a back exit, sweeping her arm as if she could scoop the young lovers up and out of the warehouse.
I went first to make sure we kept Nika and Lanzo boxed between us. The alley out back was empty of everything but garbage and the distant sound of Slavic yells. I called out, “C’mon,” and led the way south, towards our destination.
I set a fast pace, confident Sophie would be ushering the pair behind me. The backstreets shown with a lunar glow. While I could hear shouting, there weren’t the jangling beams of flashlights, telling me Nika’s rapid departure from Mitnick’s had caught his men by surprise. Over the beating of my own heart their voices came from everywhere, making it impossible to judge how close they were. I left the revolver in my pocket, but led the way with the umbrella club, prepared to start swinging.
Which was good. Charging through an intersection, I collided with a Russian, like smacking into a bag of cement that fell to the street. In the confusion, I saw there were two more, leather jackets black holes in the moonlit alley. One opened his mouth to yell, but I clacked the steel of the umbrella across his chin before he knew what was in front of him.
He tumbled off his feet, and I pushed him into the third, their pale faces halting on that unexpected blowback. In the confusion, I got a good shot on another. I was lucky too – he had a pistol out already, but dropped it when I smashed the umbrella into his temple.
One surprised me by charging. Despite being half my size he was smart enough or crazy enough to know that its was his only chance. His fists were colliding with me before the pistol finished its bounce from the cobblestone.
The few seconds this was taking were already too many, sure to attract more, increasingly fatal, trouble. I couldn’t hear anything with the blood in my ears, but I didn’t waste time with words, knowing Sophie would keep the lovers moving.
I was silent, but the short Russian wasn’t, yelling and cursing. I tried to beat him to the ground, but he rolled his shoulders and took the blows, punching out to give as good as he got. I kept smashing down, and I could feel the strength of his blows lessening, until he grabbed me by the trench coat, dragging me with him.
It was the pistol that saved me. As we both crumbled towards the street, the Russian had a death grip on me that would have held long enough for reinforcements to arrive and usher me into hours of torture. But he glanced down and saw the pistol on the ground, and let go of me to dive for it. That left him exposed for the second I needed. I rained blows down on him, hearing the sound of bones and flesh give way.
When he stopped moving, I ran. In the dark, I heard distant yells get more distant as I moved further away and closer to Sophie.
I didn’t stop sweating, though. The spectral faces of the Russians floated in the back of my mind, chasing me down the alley. As I frantically tried to reimagine them from the information I had gleaned under the moonlight, I wondered how much had they had seen of me.
To read the next chapter, go here.
To read the previous chapter, go here.
To read the author’s published work, go here.
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