Abuse of Power - Michael Savage [119]
The guy in the lighthouse tower started firing again, and Jack returned several shots before ducking back behind the cistern.
Sara slammed through the door behind him.
Jack checked his magazine, saw that he had just a few more rounds, then mentally counted to three again and jumped to his feet. He headed for the foghorn building, firing indiscriminately as he ran. Just as he reached the door, a bullet clipped his shoulder and he stumbled forward.
Shots splintered wood above him as Jack gripped the door frame and yanked himself inside, pulling the door shut behind him as he grasped his shoulder and collapsed onto one knee.
“Could’ve been worse,” he said, feeling the edges of the wound through his torn shirt.
The room was full of machinery, pneumatic pumps that once powered the foghorns. Now that the system was electronic, they were no longer needed.
Still clutching his shoulder Jack called out. “Sara?”
No answer. But the door on the opposite side of the shack was hanging open and that was a good sign. She was probably down to the dock by now, and that was where Jack needed to be.
Wincing against the pain, he grabbed a piece of machinery and pushed himself to his feet, the room swaying slightly as he stood. He knew that Swain and his goons would be bursting through that door any second now, so he steeled himself and worked his way around the maze of machinery to the rear, moving as quickly as his body would carry him.
He heard the rip of an outboard motor and knew that Sara had made it to the RIB.
He was picking up speed as Sara’s scream ripped the air. He crashed through the doorway, running toward the white picket railing that overlooked the dock.
By the time he reached it, one of Swain’s thugs had dragged Sara to the dock and was pulling her toward the Luhrs, the ugly black barrel of a gun pressed against her head.
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Jack forgot about his shoulder and ran, heading straight for the ramp, raising the Glock as he approached them.
“Let her go!” he commanded.
But now Swain and his other men were emerging from the foghorn building and moving in his direction.
“Give it up, Hatfield,” Swain called back. “You gave us a good fight but now it’s over.” He snickered. “Think of the environment, Jack. All this gunfire can’t be good for the gulls and seals.”
Jack froze and looked at Sara and her gaze locked on his.
Even through the mist he could see that her eyes had gone cold, all vulnerability gone. He knew this was her game face. She wasn’t Sara the victim but Sara the hardened ex-Interpol agent.
“Leave me, Jack!” she said. “If they take us both, it’s over.”
It was a ridiculous notion. “No way.”
“You have to! I would if the situation were—”
“Shut up,” the thug spat, rapping the gun barrel hard against her head.
“As much as I’m enjoying this, get her the hell out of here,” Swain snarled.
The gunman backed Sara closer to the Luhrs.
Jack momentarily forgot the mission. There was only Sara—Sara, who was a captive and needed his help.
He shone the laser pointer in the thug’s eyes. “Let her go, you son of a bitch!”
The thug squinted.
Swain turned to Sara. “Turn that off or I’ll kill her right now! Do it!”
Jack didn’t hesitate. He lowered the light.
Sara said, “Go, Jack.”
Jack looked at her, his heart breaking, not wanting to do as she asked. There had to be a way out for both of them.
But even as he thought that, he knew he had no choice. Time seemed to suspend for a moment. The watch repairman’s son needed a tick tick tick to spur him to action.
Swain gave it to him by drawing closer, raising his gun as he approached. There would be no more talk. Jack guessed that the only reason Swain held his fire was proximity: he wanted to see Jack’s face clearly, through the fog, as he took everything from him. Not just his life but his love.
Jack gave Sara one last mournful glance then swung around, once again shining the beam of the laser pointer into Swain’s eyes. As