James Patterson - AC 16 - I Alex Cross v5 by I Alex Cross v5

Author:I, Alex Cross v5
Language: eng
Format: mobi

Chapter 57

AS SOON AS my siren came on, the dark blue sedan took off up the block and then spun around the corner. I had no idea who these guys were — mob, guns for hire, or what — but the way they tore out of there told me Nicholson and his girlfriend were in some serious trouble.

Ned was already on the phone. "This is Mahoney. I have command of the target, Nicholson. We’re in pursuit of a blue, Pontiac G6, DC plates."

We came around another corner, and I saw them stopped at the compound’s exit.

"One for the good guys!" Ned said, and pumped a fist. There was a solid stream of traffic on Eisenhower blocking them in, and for maybe a second, I thought we might get through this cleanly.

Then the Pontiac’s doors opened on both sides and two men came out — firing!

A bullet pierced my windshield with a dull popping sound before Ned or I could get out. I threw open my door and rolled onto the street. Mahoney also got out the driver’s side and stayed low.

From where I was, in a gully, I could only see the sedan’s driver. He looked military to me, tall, with a blond buzz cut — and still firing. I didn’t shoot back, didn’t dare.

The problem was the traffic stopped behind him. There wasn’t a safe shot I could take. He seemed to figure that out, and broke for the nearest building.

As he passed the large Avalon sign fronting the complex, I fired off a fast, controlled double tap. Two shells kicked over my shoulder. The blond man went down with the second one.

But we weren’t out of this yet, not by a long shot. Mahoney was up and firing. I could see the other man now, down in the street. He had a wet hole in the leg of his pants, but he got up again.

"Drop your weapon!" Mahoney shouted, as the man began to hobble away.

I came around to cover from a second angle, just as the guy raised a .45 at Mahoney.

Both our shots got off before his. He spasmed twice when they hit, and still managed to pull the trigger one more time. His shot nearly clipped Ned, who dropped and fired back. The last bullet caught the guy in the shoulder.

The shooter was alive when we got to him, wide-eyed and tremoring, his finger still on the trigger. Ned stepped on his wrist and pulled the .45 out of his hand.

"Hang in there," I told him. "Ambulance is on its way."

He was in bad shape, though. A wound in his stomach was pumping blood, too much and too fast. While Mahoney ran to Nicholson and the woman, I pulled off my jacket and pressed it to the wound.

"Who do you work for?" I asked.

I wasn’t sure if he could hear me. He didn’t look scared, but his eyes were like saucers. When he tried to swallow, foamy blood came through his lips. My jacket was already soaked.

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