State of Siege - Tom Clancy [99]
"No one move!" August shouted. Running, they might get between him and Barone.
No one moved at all.
August reached the stairwell and started down. He kept his right arm across his chest. Cocked at his side, the arm would be more vulnerable. The Frenchman was directly across the room. The terrorist suddenly stopped and fired several rounds. Two of the four shots hit August in the waist and ribs. The impact threw him against the wall, though the bulletproof vest stopped the slugs. "You're down, you bastard!" the Frenchman cried triumphantly. "Downer, cover me!" he yelled as he cut through one of the middle rows of the gallery, heading toward the north side. The Australian threw the girl aside and stood. He screamed in raw, frustrated rage.
Pulling himself off the wall, August continued crawling down the steps. He ignored the sharp pain in his side. Where he was, behind the seats, the Frenchman did not have a shot at him. And Barone was almost in view.
Just then, a loud crack broke from the back of the room. From the corner of his eye, August saw the Frenchman fall forward between the rows. Downer ducked fast as Lieutenant Mailman crouched behind his gun in the open door.
"Keep going, sir!" Mailman shouted.
Good man, August thought. Mailman had shot at the Frenchman, though August couldn't tell whether or not the terrorist had been hit. August reached the bottom step as Barone carefully peeled a red plastic strip from the mouth of the canister. He threw the tape aside and began unscrewing the cap. August fired twice. Both bullets punched holes in the side of Barone's head, spilling him toward the front of the chamber. The canister fell to the carpet, a thin wisp of green vapor slipping around the neck of the container.
August swore. He got to his feet and ran toward the door that adjoined the Trusteeship Council. He had it in mind to get to the canister and shut it. If he couldn't do that, then maybe he could cover the hostages as they ran out through that door. He never made it.
The Frenchman emerged on the north side of the gallery. He was unhurt and opened fire. This time he aimed at August's legs. August felt two sharp bites, one in his left thigh and one in his right shin. He went down, the wounds burning fiercely. August ground his teeth together and crawled forward. Pain management training had taught him to set small, attainable goals. That was how soldiers stayed conscious and functioning in the field. He concentrated on where he needed to be.
Behind him, Downer fired at Mailman, driving him back outside the door. Meanwhile, the Frenchman crept down several steps. The canister was just a few feet away. The cap was still on, but the gas was beginning to spread. August needed to screw it back on. He didn't have time to turn and fire.
Suddenly, there was a massive pop about ten feet in front of August. The great brown drapes on the northernmost window blew open and bulletproof glass flew straight across the front of the Security Council. Almost simultaneously, there was a terrific crash as the upper part of the towering window came crashing down. A moment later, right on schedule, Mike Rodgers stepped into the room.
New York, New York Sunday, 12:11 A.M.
This is not a bottleneck operation, Mike Rodgers thought gravely as he looked across the Security Council chamber. This was proof of the Striker axiom that nothing was guaranteed. Rodgers had crossed the rose garden the same way August had. By the time he'd reached the courtyard, however, the gun battle had begun, and most of the police who were outside the lobby had gone inside. He was able to reach the hedges on the east side of the courtyard unseen. Creeping ahead to the north-side window of the Security Council chamber, he immediately placed and detonated the C-4. He only used a small amount in order to keep the flying glass to a minimum. He suspected that once the bottom of the window was blown in, the rest of the pane would collapse. He was right. Entering the chamber, Rodgers saw