Page 98 of Deathtoll
The roof’s edge pressed against his groin as he slipped a little lower. He ignored the discomfort. His focus was on finding Emma and Kate.
He stuck his head in the hole.
A man wearing blue overalls stood inside the front door, gun in hand.
Asael.
Murph’s fingers itched to put a bullet through the guy’s head then and there. There were at least two problems with that, however.
One: His backup weapon was a Glock G19, a nice compact 9mm with excellent accuracy up to fifty yards or so. Unfortunately, Asael stood at close to three times that distance, across the warehouse.
Two: Murph didn’t know where Kate and Emma were. He couldn’t kill Asael until he got the location out of the bastard.
The building was one open space, except for a small area portioned off with a Sheetrock wall in the back. Could be storage, could be stairs leading to a lower level. Maybe Emma and Kate were down there, maybe they weren’t. Taking Asael would have to wait until Murph had eyes on the women.
He twisted so his shoulders would fit through the opening, shoved, then pulled, working himself through silently, until he was lying facedown on the main support beam.
Shelves lined the walls, filled with boxes, most of which were taped shut. The few that were open held myriad spare parts, work overalls, and cans of varnish. Nothing that screamedpossible weapon.
Murph measured up the nearest shelf to see if he could lower himself onto it, but it wasn’t tall enough. None of them were. He’d have to jump, and he’d make too much noise, possibly knock the whole shelf over. Asael might open fire. Then Murph would have to shoot back. And he might accidentally kill the bastard too soon.
Below, the hitman stepped up to the door, looked out, then moved back inside again.
Murph shoved his gun into the back of his waistband, then crawled toward his target. The spur-of-the-moment plan was to get right above Asael, drop down on him, take his weapon, then do what it took to make him give up the women’s location. Murph was prepared to get as creative as he had to be, had no qualms whatsoever.
When he switched to a cross beam and finally reached the right spot with Asael directly below him, Murph lowered himself until he hung from the beam by his arms. This was as far as he could go with stealth. Up to this point, his success had depended on silence. From here on, it would depend on speed and skill.
He let go, dropping, but Asael stepped toward the door again at the same time. Instead of landing on top of him, Murph landed right behind him. Instead of Asael breaking Murph’s fall, nothing took the shock of hitting the cement floor from thirty feet up.
Murph ended up on one foot and one knee, pain shooting through him. Then Asael’s gun was at his forehead.
Murph’s weapon—hehadmanaged to pull it—was pointed at Asael’s groin—as high as he had time to raise it. “Standoff.”
“A standoff would indicate equal sides,” Asael said in a droll tone. “I have bargaining chips. You don’t.”
“Then let’s bargain.” Murph overcame the pain enough to stand and straighten, keeping his weapon pointed at Asael. The only reason his ankles weren’t broken was because he’d put on his old Army boots that morning. He gave thanks to whoever designed them to handle shock. “I want Emma and Kate.”
“You toss your weapon, come downstairs with me, and I promise I’ll let you see them.”
“Are they in the basement?” Sayyes, and it’s game over.
“No. You can’t just shoot me and free them. They’re nowhere around here.”
“Where are they?”
“You go downstairs with me, and I’ll tell you. Then we negotiate.”
Play for time.
Murph had sent Cirelli the address ten minutes ago. FBI agents would be on their way by now.
“All right.” Murph had plenty of hand-to-hand combat training. Even without the gun, he’d be hardly defenseless.
He tossed his weapon as far as he could so Asael couldn’t just pick it up. The Glock landed halfway across the warehouse.
Asael pointed toward the door in the back. “After you.”
Murph strode ahead, then down the stairs. No Kate. No Emma. Asael hadn’t lied about that. Nothing down there but workbenches. And the one set up under the light in the middle made the short hairs stand up at the back of Murph’s neck.
