Minotaur

24

Chapel’s breath stuck tight in his lungs as he waited for the grenade to explode, obliterating the table he hid behind and turning it into a million jagged splinters of wood that would shred his body. His brain howled at him to react, to grab the grenade and throw it back, but his muscles refused to move, to do anything in the time he had left.

Then the grenade went off and he nearly laughed in relief. It didn’t explode. A cap on one end popped open and white smoke started pouring out. It wasn’t a fragmentation grenade, after all. He’d assumed it would be the same kind of explosive they’d used to get the door open. But either they were still operating under the orders not to kill Chapel, or they just didn’t want to damage their boss’s expensive marble floor.

Chapel opened his mouth to take a breath—and nearly lost everything. Because it wasn’t a smoke grenade. It was tear gas.

He’d been so surprised by surviving the last two seconds that he hadn’t even considered that. The half of an aborted breath he’d taken burned inside his throat and his eyes began to water. His chest seized up as his lungs clamored for air, even as they spasmed in reaction to the nasty stuff they’d already inhaled.

Chapel had lost his shirt back when he was originally searched in the billiards room. He had nothing to make a bandana out of. Not that a length of cloth would even protect his eyes. He rolled away from the table, knowing he was doing exactly what the guards wanted. They’d thrown the gas grenade to flush him out, to make him leave his cover.

They waited five seconds for the tear gas to take effect, then stormed into the foyer in a tight formation, spreading out just a little as they came. They were all wearing gas masks that hid their faces but it didn’t look like they had any body armor—just immaculate black suits and silk ties. They all carried pistols, Glocks like the ones Chapel had taken from Michael’s crew.

One of them lifted three fingers in the air, then gestured forward. He followed this signal with a fist pumping in the air that meant “hurry up.” These guards were far better trained and more disciplined than the bodyguards who had worked inside the house. They probably didn’t know how to serve soup at the dinner table, but they definitely knew how to take an enemy behind cover. The guards moved around the table, flanking it from either side, their weapons up and ready. Chapel might have gotten one or two of them, but through sheer numbers they would have taken him down before he could achieve anything useful.

That is, if he had still been behind the table.

The funny thing about tear gas was that while it was great at incapacitating an unprotected enemy, it also fouled the air and reduced visibility. In the first few seconds after a tear gas grenade went off it acted like a very effective smokescreen. By the time it dissipated into the air your enemy could be gone.

Chapel had simply run up the stairs, knowing they couldn’t see him. He’d gotten above the worst of the gas and though his eyes were streaming and his throat burned, he had been able to find a new cover spot behind the balustrade at the top of the steps. It was clear right away that the guards were surprised not to find him behind the table, and they had no idea where he’d gone.

Until a coughing fit ripped through him, and they all looked up to see where the noise had come from.