Sanctus

Chapter 118

Gabriel rose slightly and scanned the warehouse over the jagged lower edge of the window. There had been no further movement since the last volley of gunfire. This meant one of two things. Either the man had retreated — in which case he would undoubtedly return with more men and more firepower, or he was still in the warehouse and biding his time. Either way they couldn’t just wait it out and hope for the best. They would have to force the situation.

A crunching sound drew his attention and he glanced over at the Inspector moving stiffly across the glass-gravelled floor to where Liv was huddled by the photocopier. He gripped a mobile phone in his mouth and held his wounded right arm stiffly across his chest. In the other he held a gun. Gabriel didn’t want to wait around while he called in the cavalry. After his visit to the morgue they would arrest him for sure — and being stuck in a cell for the next few days wasn’t going to help anyone. The Inspector reached Liv and leaned in close to whisper something. She looked up at Gabriel and smiled. He smiled back then looked away as more glass crunched behind him. Kathryn and Oscar were taking up a position by the door. Gabriel gripped his gun and raised it up as he glanced back out at the silent warehouse, scanning the gaps between the crates for movement.

Still nothing. Just shadows and air.

He looked over at his mother and grandfather, braced against the wall inside the open door, his mother in lead position. In her hand she held the Glock he had liberated from the man who now rested at the bottom of the quarry. She looked over her shoulder at him, her face sharpened with concentration. He held up his left hand so she could see it. Took a breath. Then dropped it.

As his left hand fell his right hand rose bringing his gun up over the lower edge of the broken window. The moment the barrel cleared it he started firing, letting off a tight pattern over the area he’d last seen the man go down. He fired eight shots. Three rapid rounds to put someone down, five slightly slower to keep them there.

He finished firing and scanned the warehouse through the thin cloud of blue smoke. Saw nothing. He glanced down over the edge of the broken window. Kathryn was now outside in the warehouse, her back pressed against one of the crates, in position and ready to go.

Johann heard the bullets rip through the air above his head and ping into the steel door beyond. One round clipped the top of the crate he was slumped against, showering him with wood and shards of aluminium before it ricocheted off to the right, whining as it went. All the while he kept his hand clamped to his neck, keeping the pressure on, staunching the flow of blood to buy himself just a little more time. He counted the shots and noted their frequency — three quick, five slower — classic cover fire. They were changing position. It meant they were coming for him. He smiled and closed his free hand round the two grenades in his lap. He was starting to feel cold and drowsy.

Not long now — he thought.

He started to recite one of the vigil prayers in his head.

He was dying doing God’s work, and God always gathered his own.

Gabriel reached the open office door and took up the position his mother had recently vacated. Three quick shots tore through the silence from outside and he spun away and was out of the door before the first of the slower shots sounded.

Johann counted the three quick shots and shifted his position, leaving bloody handprints on the cold concrete floor.

Every movement was an effort but he couldn’t wait any longer.

FOUR

The first of the slower shots rang out and his hand closed around the first grenade.

FIVE

He pulled the pin, pulled his arm back and threw it round the edge of the crate towards the office at the back of the warehouse.

SIX

He rolled over through the slick of his own blood. Pulled the pin on the second grenade. Hurled it down the gap on the other side.

SEVEN

Swept his gun from the floor and pushed himself upwards.

EIGHT

Rose above the top of the crate. Raised his gun. And started firing.

Gabriel saw the red figure rise, the gun rising with him, up towards the spot where his mother stood. He saw flame spit from the end of the barrel and a piece of packing case tear free from a crate halfway between them. The boom of the first shot echoed through the warehouse and the gun jerked up from the recoil, bringing the barrel closer to its intended target.

A second shot boomed out, this time from Gabriel’s gun.

A puff of red mist appeared behind the gunman’s head and it jerked backwards, like he’d been punched. Then he began to fall. Gabriel watched him crumple as the gunshot echoed through the cavernous hangar. It was only as the sound died away that he heard the metallic, clinking sound of something else, skittering across the concrete towards them. He shifted his aim and tracked the sound drawing closer, bouncing along the narrow channel between the crates. He realized what it was moments before it rolled into view right by the spot where his mother was crouched.

Kathryn turned to look at it but his body was already in motion, his legs pushing against the concrete, hurling his weight towards her as she began to rise. He connected with her like a charging linebacker, driving forwards and through her, using his momentum to carry them both as far from the grenade as possible before it detonated.

It was only as his head passed over her shoulder and his body slammed against hers that he saw the second grenade skip out from behind the crates towards the exact spot they were now heading.