Panic lb-1

by Nick Stephenson

  The enormous blond rounded the desk and made straight for Leopold. He hadn’t bothered picking up the gun. Before he could get up, Dolph aimed a kick to Leopold’s stomach, sending him sliding across the hard floor with a gasp of pain. A second kick knocked him against the wooden frame of the antique printing press. He balled up and the third kick landed to his shoulder, turning him onto his back.

  Dolph’s next kick was aimed at the head, but Leopold twisted away at the last second and his attacker’s boot connected the printing press with a loud thud. The force of the kick must have shattered at least one toe, but the scarred giant didn’t make a sound to indicate he’d felt it. Leopold kicked out at Dolph’s shin and knocked him off balance, giving him the chance to get to his feet, where he took a split second to catch his breath.

  The two of them faced each other, and Dolph advanced with his fists raised, jabbing at Leopold’s face, until the two men were toe to toe. Leopold weaved nimbly between the blows, taking advantage of his opponent’s slower movements, and shot both hands forward, aiming for the eyes. The blond’s longer reach was ineffective at such close range, and Leopold managed to get one thumb in Dolph’s right eye and he pushed hard. Dolph struggled to get away, but Leopold hooked his spare fingers inside the blond’s ear and held him fast. He could feel the eyeball moving around under his thumb. He applied more pressure and Dolph screamed. The eyeball started to bulge from its socket. It was nearly out. He kept pressing and felt the tip of his thumb hit bone. Dolph kept screaming. Leopold kept pressing.

  The giant soldier wrenched free and covered his face with his hands, blood oozing from the socket. He howled in agony, then launched himself at Leopold, fists flying in a frenzy. Leopold ducked the badly aimed blows and used Dolph’s considerable momentum against him, shoving him onto the printing press, where he lay sprawled like a body on an operating table, jerking and writhing. His head was underneath the steel plate.

  Leopold grabbed hold of the heavy screw handle above him with both hands and pulled. The screw drove the thick plate down onto Dolph’s face, and Leopold used his full weight to force the mechanism tighter. He met resistance, but pulled harder and felt the plate start moving again. He heard a wet crack as Dolph’s nasal bridge collapsed, sending blood and cartilage down the trapped soldier’s throat. Leopold kept pulling. He felt more resistance as the plate met the trapped soldier’s forehead and heard a muffled crunching sound as his skull began to give way. There was more blood and the cheek bones caved in. Dolph’s body still jerked around, and Leopold kept pulling. There were several short, sharp snaps as the plate crushed Dolph’s jaw bone and shattered his teeth; then he stopped moving. Leopold let go of the screw. Then he threw up.

  “Leopold!” Mary’s voice was strained. She and Jerome emerged from behind one of the bookcases and they both ran over. Mary caught sight of Dolph’s mangled body and gagged.

  The bodyguard nodded grimly. “Interesting improvisation.”

  “I’m lucky to be alive,” panted Leopold. “Who knows what would have happened if they hadn’t been distracted.”

  “I’m glad we didn’t have to find out,” said Mary, clutching her shoulder.

  “What happened to you?”

  “Nothing major,” she replied, dropping her hand to her side. “Guy got a lucky hit in. Jerome had my back.”

  “He has a habit of doing that,” said Leopold, wincing as the pain in his side intensified. “Jerome, do you have any painkillers in that first aid kit of yours?”

  The bodyguard shook his head. “You’ll be fine. I’d be more worried about all the damage we caused. What was it you said they kept up here? The entirety of human civilisation?”

  Leopold sucked in a deep breath. “Nothing a few checks and a well placed donation won’t cover. Maybe call in a few favors. We’ve gotten out of worse trouble before.”

  Jerome pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll make the usual calls.”

  Chapter 34

  Leopold found Albert lying face down on the floor with his hands clasped over the back of his head, whimpering quietly to himself. After a few shakes to the shoulder, Albert eventually got to his feet, where he stood shaking a little, but otherwise unharmed. The reading room was in tatters, with scraps of paper piled up like snow where high-velocity slugs had ripped through the thick volumes and sprayed their contents across the floor. The broken glass from the cabinets crunched under Leopold’s feet as they made their way to the exit, and he felt his stomach lurch again as he caught a final glimpse of Dolph’s mangled corpse.

  They reached the deserted stair well and Jerome took the lead, checking for any signs of danger. He held up a two-way radio, snatched from one of the bodies in the reading room, and waited a few seconds. Silence.

  “Looks like we’re in the clear for now,” said the bodyguard, slipping the radio into his coat pocket.

  Jerome led them down the six flights of stairs to the ground floor, and Leopold noticed one of the emergency exits at street level had been wrenched open, most likely where Stark’s men had entered. Jerome stuck his head through the disarmed emergency exit and waved them all through. They stepped out onto one of the narrow paths that wound behind the main university campus, sheltered on either side by carefully manicured bushes that stretched a dozen feet up into the air. The evening gloom had started to take hold and the light was fading fast, replaced by the muffled glare of the streetlamps that gave everything a slightly muted quality. A few seconds later, the bodyguard found the main gates and ushered everyone through to the main road, which was still lined with cars. Leopold spotted their battered SUV at the far corner.

  “Nice car,” said Albert, as they approached the vehicle. “Remind me not to go on any road trips with you guys.”

  Jerome took out the keys and unlocked the vehicle. Leopold reached for the handle to climb into the passenger seat but stopped suddenly, noticing a bright yellow clamp fixed to the front wheel and a parking ticket jammed under one of the front wipers. He swore loudly.

  “Relax,” said Albert. “It’s not a problem. We can take my car.”

  Albert pointed to an ancient VW Beetle, straddling the curb on the opposite side of the road. The car was covered in dents and most of its paint had worn away, replaced largely by rust and scuff marks from decades of heavy use. Leopold and Jerome looked at each other.

  “Are you kidding me?” said Jerome.

  “What’s the problem?” said Albert defensively.

  The giant bodyguard shook his head and grunted, but didn’t push the point any further. Leopold heard Mary chuckle quietly.

  “We don’t have much of a choice,” said Leopold. “Forensics will have finished with Hank’s apartment by now, which means Stark will be en route to clear up any loose ends before the detective teams get there.”

  “Let’s get moving,” said Mary, taking off in the direction of Albert’s tiny car.

  Leopold and Albert followed close behind, while Jerome loped after them with a reluctant expression. They reached the VW and the tour guide hopped into the driver’s seat and buckled up. Leopold and Mary climbed in the back, knees pressed up against their bodies from the lack of space. Jerome paused at the door and frowned, then squeezed his massive frame into the passenger seat with a grunt of discomfort. The VW sank about six inches as he sat down, his shoulders hunched against the car’s low roof. The bodyguard grunted again as he wrapped the seat belt around his contorted body and snapped it into place.

  Albert started the engine with a metallic rattle and threw the manual gearbox into first with a disconcerting grinding noise, rolling the car out onto the road with a puff of black smoke from the exhaust. He wrenched the VW through various other gears as he sped up, trying to keep up with the other traffic as they merged onto the main road. The car struggled forward, eventually hitting its stride after a few minutes of spluttering from the old engine, and Albert breathed a sigh of relief.

  Holding back a chuckle at the sight of Jerome squashed into the passenger seat, Le
opold sat back as best he could and watched the traffic pass them on both sides. Mary pulled out her cell phone and made a call back to her office. Leopold didn’t look forward to answering the awkward questions that were bound to follow once the NYPD discovered the mess they had left in the library. He caught Mary’s eye and noticed she looked tired. She smiled as she noticed his gaze.

  After nearly fifteen minutes the VW reached Hank’s street. Jerome pointed to a parking space at the end of the street and Albert pulled up, hitting the curb with a muffled thump. Jerome wrenched himself out onto the sidewalk, followed closely by the others. The street was silent, other than the distant hum of the city traffic and the wind that whipped up the litter decorating the road. Leopold waited for the others to rearrange their crumpled clothes before setting off in the direction of Hank’s apartment.

  “Follow me. We don’t have much time.”

  Leopold felt a crushing force hit him from behind and heard a loud crack as though the air above his head had just exploded. Jerome landed on Leopold, knocking him to the ground, followed shortly after by Mary and Albert, as the giant bodyguard grabbed the three of them and wrenched them toward one of the nearby alleyways, breaking off a nearby car’s side mirror in the process.

  The four of them toppled clumsily onto the ground. Mary slammed into one of several full garbage cans as a second crack reverberated, and part of the alley wall erupted in a cloud of dust and brick. Jerome forced his huge palms down onto Leopold and Mary’s backs, forcing both of them to lie face-first on the ground, out of harm’s way. Albert had rolled a little further down the passageway and was taking refuge behind one of the fallen garbage cans, underneath the fire escape that snaked its way up the wall.

  “Keep down,” growled Jerome. “We’ve got a shooter positioned a few buildings down. Caught the reflection of the street lamps on his scope.”

  “Is everyone okay?” asked Leopold, glancing around.

  Albert squeaked in the affirmative. Mary didn’t respond.

  “She’s out cold,” said Jerome, leaning in close. “Doesn’t look like any permanent damage.”

  The bodyguard assumed a crouching position, keeping the others behind him as he inched his way back toward the edge of the wall. He spotted the side view mirror that had broken away from one of the nearby cars lying on the floor, its glass still intact.

  “Wait, don’t do it,” said Leopold. “It’s too exposed.”

  “We don’t have a choice,” said Jerome, turning his head. “The alleyway behind us is blocked. If we stay here much longer the sniper will just relocate and pick us off.”

  Without waiting for a response, Jerome pulled off his coat and held it out into the street, in full view of the sniper. Another crack hit Leopold’s eardrums as the jacket ripped in half, the bullet narrowly missing Jerome’s fingers. Without wasting a millisecond, the bodyguard pushed forward and rolled out onto the street, scooping up the mirror and rolling back into the safety of the alleyway as another round narrowly missed the back of his head.

  “There’s no delay between the rounds hitting the wall and the sound of the shots,” said Jerome, “so the shooter can’t be that far away. Problem is, we can’t hit back without knowing his exact position – which is where this comes in.”

  Jerome slid the mirror toward the edge of the wall and angled it at the far end of the street, in the direction of Hank’s apartment but on the opposite side of the road. A second later, another bullet whipped past, catching the edge of the mirror and knocking it out of Jerome’s hand. It landed a few feet away, useless. The bodyguard smiled.

  “What the hell is there to smile about?” said Leopold.

  “I caught the glare of his scope in the mirror. He’s on the roof of the third building to the right, on the opposite side. This is good news, as long as he stays put.”

  “How do you know he will?”

  “I don’t. But chances are he won’t move unless he absolutely has to. He’s got us pinned down, so won’t want to risk us escaping while he changes position. He’s had a few near misses, so I’m guessing he’s going to try his luck a few more times before switching on us. Here we go.”

  Leopold raised his hands in protest, but too late. Jerome moved with unbelievable speed and once again rolled out into the street, taking cover behind the parked car and drawing his Colt .45 as another crack rang out nearby. The car’s back window exploded, showering the sidewalk with glass. Jerome took a deep breath and launched himself away from the car, firing three shots in quick succession as he ran, before diving back to his hiding place next to Leopold.

  The bodyguard shook his head. “The angle wasn’t right. We’re going to have to get closer.”

  “What do you mean, we?” said Leopold, a sinking feeling clawing in his stomach.

  “If I can get him to break cover, I can take him out.”

  “Let me guess. You want someone to draw fire? You know, this isn’t typical procedure for a bodyguard.”

  “You’d rather Albert tried his luck?”

  Leopold rolled his eyes. “Fine. What’s the plan?”

  “I need to get onto the roof here,” said Jerome, slapping the wall. “When I give the signal, I need you to move back toward the SUV. When the shooter spots you and changes position to fire, I’ll take him out from here.”

  “The SUV? He’ll pick me off before I get anywhere close.”

  “There are enough parked cars to keep you covered,” said Jerome. “If you move fast enough, you’ll make it.”

  “And if you miss?”

  “I won’t.”

  Leopold opened his mouth to protest, but was too late. The bodyguard bounded toward one of the upright garbage cans and used it to launch himself high enough to catch hold of the fire escape that ran down the side of the apartment building. His fingertips caught hold and he used his momentum to grasp the bottom rung of the ladder with both hands. He swung his legs upwards and climbed to the lower platform. The rusty iron creaked under his weight as he ascended the metal staircase that led to the roof. As he approached the summit, Leopold saw him give the signal.

  Pushing his nerves to the back of his mind, Leopold took a deep breath and shot out into the street, diving behind the damaged car that Jerome had used for cover earlier. Leopold closed his eyes and braced for the bullet, but none came. Relieved, he assumed a crouching position and prepared to make a dash for the next parked car, just a few feet away. He kept low and moved quickly, keeping his head out of sight.

  He reached the next car and leaned up against the rear bumper. There had still been no sign of gunfire, meaning the shooter had either moved position or was waiting for a better shot. In either event, Leopold knew he would have to present an easier target to draw fire in his direction, allowing Jerome an opportunity to take the sniper out from the roof. A simple plan, but he knew that if the bodyguard missed, it was all over. The next bullet would be aimed directly at Leopold’s chest, and he didn’t fancy his chances of getting out of the way in time. Everything rested on Jerome’s ability to make that one shot count.

  Leopold screwed his eyes closed and bunched his fists. He counted to five silently and tensed the muscles in his legs, ready for his next move. Gritting his teeth, he rose to his feet and stepped into the middle of the road.

  The sound of the gunshot was deafening, even from a distance. Leopold jumped in his skin and clutched at his chest, instinctively checking for blood. But there was none. The street fell silent and Leopold heard his heart thump against his rib cage, before realizing he hadn’t taken a breath in nearly a minute. He exhaled deeply, relief flooding his body, and stumbled back to the alleyway, using the parked cars for much-needed support as he went. He rounded the corner as Jerome landed with a heavy thump, having jumped the ten feet from the fire escape to the ground.

  “Did you take him out?” asked Leopold, leaning against the wall to give himself a chance to recover.

  “I managed to catch the rifle and shatter the scope,” said Jerome. “I
think I may have wounded him, but he’s still alive. I’ll need to get closer to be sure.”

  Albert peeked out from behind his hiding place as Mary began to groan softly.

  “Looks like she’s awake,” said Albert, kneeling down by her head. “I can make sure she’s okay. You go ahead.”

  Leopold caught Jerome’s arm as he walked past. “I’m going with you. You’ll need backup in case there are any surprises.”

  He saw the bodyguard consider his words carefully, before nodding slowly.

  “Fine. But you’ll need to keep up.”

  Leopold nodded and followed him to the edge of the alleyway, both checking for any sign of movement in the street. When the coast was clear, Jerome counted down from three and they both sprinted as fast as they could manage in the direction of the shooter’s position.

  They reached the building in a matter of seconds, vaulting the fence and landing in the alleyway where the building’s fire escape ran up the side wall. Jerome used a nearby dumpster to add height to his jump and grabbed hold of the railings, hoisting himself onto the rungs with relative ease. Stepping back a few feet to allow a running start, Leopold managed the same move and he hauled himself up onto the first set of stairs, struggling to catch his breath.

  He reached the roof just a second after the Jerome, who drew his weapon as he surveyed the area. The roof was deserted. Other than the abandoned rifle and a handful of spent shells in the far corner, there was no evidence anyone had been there at all. A large air-conditioning unit sat square in the middle of the roof, making just enough noise to blank out the sound of distant traffic. Leopold kept his eyes on the unit as Jerome moved toward the broken rifle, his Colt .45 held in both hands.

  Leopold saw the sniper attack as Jerome passed the air conditioning unit. The man wielded a short but lethal knife in his right hand, the blade angled away from his body to allow for a more effective attack to the throat. The bodyguard feigned surprise, which spurred his opponent’s attack, but at the last minute he side-stepped out of the way.