50
1042 Words
Her fist drove up and through the man’s throat at the same time that she cantilevered her body to a seemingly impossible angle, whipping around him like he was the pole and she was the dancer. She kicked his legs out from under him and delivered a crushing blow to the back of his neck. He coughed once and lay still.
Not missing a beat, Anthony launched herself at the remaining man, who was already halfway to the door, in full retreat.
When he saw what the man had thrown Herbert screamed, “Look out.” He fired. His rounds ripped through wood, plaster, but unfortunately not flesh.
The mini-explosion ripped through the place. The flash-bang completed half its mission, the blinding flash. Herbert had covered his eyes just in time.
Anthony caught it full in the face and yelled in pain.
Herbert stuffed his shirt collar in his ears and then covered them with his arms. An instant later came the bang. Now they’ll regroup with reinforcements and come back to finish the job, thought Herbert.
What they hadn’t counted on was Herbert not being paralyzed. He rolled right, snagged Anthony’s Walther off her, and held it in his left hand. He grabbed Anthony by the arm and slid her behind his desk. He gripped his customized pistol in his right hand and waited.
The first man came through the door, his submachine g*n on full auto. Herbert ducked down, slid sideways, and fired through the opening under the desk. His rounds hit their target: the shooter’s knees. No Kevlar on legs. The man went down screaming. The second man started to hit the opening, but Herbert fired three shots through the gap.
A few moments of silence. Then, a siren in the distance.
Herbert called out: “I’ll make a deal before the police get here. I’ll let you take your wounded buddies out. You have five seconds. After that, we all take our chances. And from what I’ve seen, you’re good, but I’m better.”
The siren drew closer.
“All right,” a voice said.
The men were slid out. A few moments later Herbert heard a vehicle start. Then silence again. The siren also faded away. Going somewhere, apparently.
He rolled Anthony over, checked her pulse. She was alive. He cradled her in his arms.
A minute later she opened her eyes, stared up at him. “b****y hell,” she exclaimed. She looked around. “I know I got two of them. I think I killed one of them. Where the hell are they?”
“We came to an understanding.”
They both jumped up as something slammed against the remains of the front door.
Herbert aimed his g*n at the doorway and Anthony leapt to her feet as Herbert tossed her the Walther.
“Oliver?”
“Mirabel?” he said, when she appeared in the doorway.
A second later Reuben fell into the room, landing on the wooden floor.
“Reuben,” exclaimed Herbert.
Mirabel helped Herbert get the big man up and over to a chair. Blood
was seeping down his forearm and his face was pale.
“What happened?” said Herbert.
“We were followed in Pennsylvania. Got into a gunfight. Reuben was shot. He needs a doctor.”
Reuben put a hand on Herbert’s arm and pulled him downward.
“I’ll be okay,” Reuben said weakly. “One in the arm went clean through but it hurts like hell. Other one nicked my leg.”
Herbert looked down at the hole in Reuben’s pants leg.
“You need to go to the hospital. Right now.” He looked angrily at Mirabel. “Why haven’t you already taken him?”
“He insisted on coming here. Reuben wanted me to run for help, but when I heard all the shooting I had to come back and make sure he was okay.”
Herbert glanced at Anthony before looking back at Reuben. “Did you see anything that might identify the men?”
“They were good, Oliver,” he said. “Trained very well. That’s what I wanted to come and tell you. I don’t know how I got the jump on them. Better to be lucky than good. Got hold of one of their weapons, opened fire and they all took off.”
“Trained very well? Meaning?” said Herbert.
He turned to Mirabel. “Go get it from the car.”
“But Reuben, we need to get you—”
“Get it and then I’ll go quietly.”
She ran out to the car and was back in a few seconds. She was holding something. She handed it over to Herbert.
He looked down at it and then glanced at Reuben. “Do you know what this is?”
Reuben nodded. “Figured you would too.”
Anthony looked at it over Herbert’s shoulder. “That’s a 9mm Kashtan submachine gun.”
“Yes, it is,” said Herbert. “Russian made.”
Reuben grimaced and clutched his arm. “That’s right. Russian made.” He glanced up at Mirabel. “The weird language those guys were talking when they took down the hoop?”
“You think it was Russian?”
“I’d bet a year’s pay it was. Not that that’s a lot of money, but still.” He grimaced.
“Weird language?” asked Herbert.
Mirabel started to explain what had happened, but Herbert stopped her. “You can fill me in later. We need to get him to the hospital.” Herbert put an arm under Reuben’s shoulder and helped him to his feet. He turned to Mirabel. “Stay here and call Harry and make sure he’s okay and then do the same with Caleb. Then join us at Georgetown Hospital.”
It was soon to be one left.
“Right.”
Anthony got on the other side of Reuben and the three made their way slowly to Anthony’s car. The ride to the hospital was quick, and while Reuben was being checked out Herbert sat in the waiting room with Anthony and Mirabel, who had just gotten there.
“Did you get ahold of them?” asked Herbert.
- Writer
