End Game

CHAPTER 18

Harley Man ran out into the hallway. He had an NFL lineman’s huge, blocky build. He had a gun in one hand. He scooted over to a front window and tried to see out.

The woman sat frozen on the bed inside the room he had just left. She had on a bra and underwear and nothing else. Her clothes were lying on the floor.

Shots rang out and one bullet pierced the front door, zipped past Harley Man, and lodged in the wall behind him. He dropped his suitcase, ducked down, and retreated. He called out over his shoulder and the woman appeared at the doorway, squatting down.

He pointed up the stairs.

She nodded and fled toward them even as more bullets pierced the doorway and thudded into the walls. Her bare feet pounded up the risers and she hit the second-floor landing.

And ran right into Will Robie.

She started to scream, but he showed her his badge and put a finger to his lips.

“What’s going on down there?” asked Robie, even as bullets continued to fly with Harley Man now returning fire through a cracked window.

“I don’t know. I just heard the shots.”

“Who are you? What is this place?”

“I’m… I’m Sheila.”

“Who’s the guy down there?”

“Luke.”

“And who is Luke?”

“Just a guy I know.”

“Luke with a swastika on his head is just a guy you know?” He looked at her state of undress. “And what’s with that? Is this some kind of brothel?”

“We — I am not a hooker!”

The firing picked up.

Footsteps pounded up the stairs and there was Luke.

“Who the hell are you?” roared the man upon seeing Robie.

He started to point his gun at Robie, who disarmed Luke with a kick to the hand.

“You son of a bitch!” screamed Luke.

He dropped into a crouch, his arms at his sides.

A brawler, thought Robie. Okay, here we go.

He hurtled at Robie, who easily sidestepped the charging man. He delivered a bent elbow strike directly against the back of Luke’s neck, rotating his hips as he struck to give the blow the entire force of his weight and thrust. Robie could feel the tip of his elbow impact the tip of the spine, and the big man moaned and dropped to his knees. Robie followed that with a knee kick to the chin, which chipped two teeth and toppled Luke onto his back. Robie bent over the fallen man and delivered a short punch directly to the man’s nose, bouncing the back of his head off the floor. Luke groaned and lay still.

“You bastard!”

The woman jumped on Robie’s back. It took exactly two seconds for Robie to pull her off, lay her on the floor, and keep her there with his boot.

“Let me up! Damn it, let me up! Luke!”

Robie ignored her cries, calmly took out his phone, and punched one key.

Reel picked up on the first ring. “You hear the gunfire?” she said.

“I’m in the middle of it.” He explained the situation in two brief sentences.

“On it,” was Reel’s curt reply.

Next, Robie called Malloy, woke her up, and explained the situation.

“I’ll be there as fast as I can,” she said. Robie could hear her feet hit the floor and a drawer open. “But it’s going to be about twenty minutes.”

“It’s going to be over before then,” said Robie.

Robie put away his phone and looked down at Sheila. “Stop screaming. I’m trying to save your ass.”

“Get your foot off me,” she shouted.

Robie pointed his gun at her. “Stop screaming.”

She froze.

“Stay down,” he ordered.

Robie removed his foot, stepped to a cracked second floor window, and saw a half-dozen men congregating in front of the building. They all had either handguns or shotguns. They were obviously preparing to storm the building.

He called out, “I’m with the authorities. You have one minute to leave town. After that, I can’t vouch for your safety.”

One man, larger and older than the others, looked up. “You ain’t no authority in this town.”

“The sheriff is on her way.”

“Who the hell cares?” replied the man, a comment that drew laughter from his companions.

Robie took out his night scope and drew a bead on the man. He was momentarily taken aback. This man also had a swastika on his head.

Was this a turf battle between skinheads?

“You’ve now got thirty-six seconds,” announced Robie.

“Yeah? Well, now you got fuckin’ zero, prick.”

The man aimed his gun and fired at the window. So did the others.

Robie had already stepped well back and the bullets did no damage.

He counted down the seconds in his head.

He hadn’t just been talking to the skinheads. He’d been communicating with Reel, who was right now lining up her shots from the window in the hotel.

Robie moved past the unconscious Luke and strode into a bedroom while Sheila cowered on the floor. He ripped sheets off the bed, tore them into lengths with his knife, and used some strips to bind Luke.

He used the others to form a rope. He went to the top floor, opened the window he had come in from, tied one end of the sheets to a bedpost, and ran the other end out the window. Then he brought Sheila to the top floor.

“Let’s go.”

She looked terrified. “I don’t like heights. I might fall.”

“Do you like bullets better than heights?”

She appeared to get his meaning. She looked down at her nearly naked body. “Can I get something to cover myself?”

Robie took off his jacket and handed it to her. “Use this. Hurry up.”

She slipped on the jacket and zipped it up. “I don’t think I’m strong enough to climb down there.”

“I’ll give you a piggyback ride.”

“What?”

He grabbed her arm and pulled her behind him. “Jump up. Arms around my shoulders, legs around my waist. Do it!”

“But what about the guys outside?”

“They’re going to be preoccupied in about five seconds.”

Robie counted down in his head until he heard the first report of Reel’s rifle.

“Let’s go.”

She climbed up on his back, grabbed his shoulders, and locked her thighs around his waist.

He moved to the window. “You ready?”

She nodded, but looked scared.

“So long as you hold on you’ll be fine,” he said. “I can do this and so can you, okay, Sheila?”

She finally nodded.

“Don’t look down, and don’t close your eyes, understand?”

She nodded again.

Robie ducked down, gripped the sheet rope with both hands, and climbed out the window. He could feel Sheila’s heart pounding against his back.

He made his way down, hand over hand, keeping his feet planted against the side of the building as both a guide and a brake on his downward momentum.

His feet finally touched down and he said, “Okay, we’re here. You can get off.”

Sheila gingerly lowered her feet down to the ground.

Shots were still coming from the front.

Robie pointed behind him. “You run that way and keep going for about a minute, okay. Then just hunker down and stay there. I’ll come get you when it’s done.”

“Mister, there’re a lot more of them than there is of you.”

“Not anymore. Now go!”

She turned and ran off.

Robie hustled to the right and came up around the building adjacent to the one he had just been in.

He peered around the corner to see the men taking cover behind the two trucks. Robie figured that was how the group had arrived in town.

They were firing back at the hotel.

Robie phoned Reel.

“You good?” she asked.

“I’m good.” He told her his position. “I’m the brush beater. You’re the cleanup. Aim low, no use killing any of these assholes. Too much paperwork.”

“Roger that.”

“And take out the wheels.”

“Roger that too.”

Robie put away his phone, pulled his M11, and attached his night scope to the rail. He sighted through it and opened fire. His bullets pinged off the truck metal.

The result of this was instant chaos on the skinheads’ side. They were obviously not seasoned soldiers, because seasoned soldiers did not panic when caught in a crossfire.

They started firing wildly around and running in all directions.

And Reel mowed them down as soon as she had even the narrowest of firing lanes.

All six men went down grabbing their ankles and calves where she had shot them, and screaming bloody murder.

Then Reel turned her attention to the trucks and shredded two tires on each. For good measure she drilled holes right through the radiators, and next the windshields, where her shots tore off the steering wheels of both vehicles.

Robie, keeping to the shadows, called out, “The state police are on their way. If you put down your weapons, lie on the ground, fingers interlocked behind your head, you’ll get triaged. Keep your weapons and we let you bleed out.”

Weapons were tossed aside as men groaned and collapsed fully on the ground, hands behind their heads.

Robie stepped out, and under cover of Reel’s rifle made his way to the fallen men.

As he bound their hands with zip ties he received a steady stream of invectives.

The older man who had bantered with him before swore to Robie, “I’m gonna see you dead, asshole!”

“I think you got that backwards,” replied Robie.