The Shadow Lawyer by Roger Weston

Author:Roger Weston [Weston, Roger]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Weston Publishing Enterprises
Published: 2017-12-29T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

Chuck returned the file to its metal drawer, left the vault, and walked to the basement door, peeking outside. He saw nobody up above standing near the grate. This was a tough spot to be in. If they knew he was here, they could lay an ambush for him as he emerged from the stairway. He heard voices.

A man said, “If anyone comes out the front door, fill him with lead. Remember, we take him with us.”

“I brought the body bag.”

Chuck slipped out the door and crept up the cement steps. He slowly pushed the grate up on its hinges a foot, enough to get a look around. All he could see was the backside of the dumpsters, so he pushed the grate up more—very slowly so the hinges didn’t squeak. A little squeak could not be avoided in the rusty hinges. He emerged at ground level and let the grate down just as carefully. Peeking around the back side of the dumpster, he saw a gunman standing by a van, a killer with a broad face and a wide mustache. The van was parked barely twenty-feet away, so the triggerman was lit up from the street light. He was holding an assault rifle that looked like a German Sturmgewehr with a thirty-shot magazine and an infrared “vampire” night-sight. The Sturmgewehr was an old weapon famously connected with a special committee on infantry weapons established by Adolf Hitler in 1944. It was not a weapon you saw every day. This model appeared to be a 7.92x33mm Maschinenpistole 44. The man was wearing a bullet-proof vest.

Chuck narrowed his eyes.

Using his tactical flashlight to blind the shooter, he said, “Drop it!”

The assassin swung the Sturmgewehr up and opened fire. Bullets rang off the dumpster. Chuck brought his Glock on point and squeezed off four body shots.

The shooter stumbled backwards and hit the ground. Chuck ran to him and kicked the gun away. The shooter was wearing a ballistic vest and despite his pain started to get up, so Chuck pistol whipped him, knocking him out cold. His hand, which was spread out on the pavement under the streetlight, caught Chuck’s attention.

Kneeling by the unconscious man, Chuck took a closer look with his tactical flashlight. The killer’s ring glinted in the light. An insignia was etched into the gold mounting underneath the red ruby. It was the horned horse insignia.

It was the same ring that the assassin on Chuck’s fishing boat had worn. It had the same insignia on it that Chuck had just seen on a file down in the vault, an insignia connected with a secret police group called CERBERUS, a group that reported to Maroz. Private assassins.

Chuck scanned the scene. He’d neutralized the man they’d left in the parking lot, but there were other killers nearby who’d heard the shooting—at least one inside and one across the street.

Chuck eyed a sewer grate by the shooter’s head.

He ran over to the grate covering the basement doorway and put his phone under it.

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