Without remorse - Tom Clancy [339]
Kelly turned left, proceeded west one block, then left again, heading south towards O'Donnell Street. His hands were sweating now. There were three of them, and he'd have to be very, very good. But he was good, and he had to finish the job, even if the job might finish him. He stopped the car a block away, getting out, locking it, and walking the rest of the way to the building. The other businesses here were closed down now - he'd counted three, up and operating throughout the day, totally unaware of what was happening ... in one case just across the street. Well, you planned that one right, didn't you?
Yeah, Johnnie-boy, but that was the easy part.
Thanks. He stood right there at the corner of the building, looking in all directions. Better from the other side ... he walked to the corner with the phone and electrical service, using the same half-windowsill he'd used before, reaching for the parapet and doing his best to avoid the electrical wires.
Okay, now you just have to walk across the roof without making any noise.
On tar and gravel?
There was one alternative he hadn't considered. Kelly stood on the parapet. It was at least eight inches wide, he told himself. It was also quiet as he walked the flat brick tightrope towards the opening in the roof, wondering if they might be using the phone.
Charon had to make his move soon. He stood, looking at the others, and stretched rather theatrically before heading in their direction. His coat was off, his tie loose, and his five-shot Smith was at his right hip. Just shoot the bastards and then talk to this Kelly character on the phone. Why not? They were hoods, weren't they? Why should he die for what they did?
'What are you doing, Mark?' Henry asked, not seeing the danger, too focused on the window. Good.
'Tired of sittin'.' Charon pulled the handkerchief from his right hip pocket and wiped his face with it as he measured angles and distance, then back to the phone, where his only safety lay. He was sure of that. It was his only chance to get out of this.
Piaggi just didn't like the look in his eyes. 'Why not just sit back down and relax, okay? It's going to get busy soon.'
Why is he looking at the phone? Why is he looking at us?
'Back off, Tony, okay?' Charon said in a challenging voice, reaching back to replace the handkerchief. He didn't know that his eyes had given him away. His hand had barely touched the revolver when Tony aimed and fired one shot into his chest.
'Real smart guy, huh?' Tony said to the dying man. Then he noticed that the oblong rectangle of light from the roof door had a shadow in it. Piaggi was still looking at the shadow when it disappeared, replaced by a blur barely caught by his peripheral vision. Henry was looking at Charon's body.
* * *
The shot startled him - the obvious thought was that it had been aimed at himself - but he was committed, and jumped into the square hole. It was like a parachute jump, keep your feet together, knees bent, back straight, roll when you hit.
He hit hard. It was a tile-over-concrete floor, but his legs took the worst of it. Kelly rolled at once, straightening his arm. The nearest one was Piaggi. Kelly brought the gun up, leveling the sights with his chest and firing twice, changing aim then and hitting the man under the chin.
Shift targets.
Kelly rolled again, trained to do so by some NVA he'd met. There he was. Time stopped in that moment. Henry had his own gun out and aimed, and their eyes met and for what seemed the longest time they simply looked, hunter and hunter, hunter and prey. Then Kelly remembered, first, what the sight picture was for. His