Panic (18 page)

Leopold always hated it when Jerome swore. It usually meant they were thirty seconds away from a near-death experience.

“Mary, I need you to flank to the right,” hissed Jerome. “I’ll take the left. Leopold, Albert, I need you both to crouch behind that desk in the middle and wait for my signal. The element of surprise is all we’ve got right now.”

Mary signaled her agreement, and the bodyguard slid forward silently and pushed open the glass doors into the reading room. He disappeared off to the left and Mary to the right, using the desks as cover. Leopold took Albert by the arm, slipped through the doors behind them, and crouched on the floor as directed, under cover and out of sight.

“Wait here,” said Leopold. “I’m not in the mood for hiding today.”

Albert nodded and didn’t try to argue. Leopold left him sitting under the desk and headed after Mary, keeping low and trying not to make any noise. As he passed a large cabinet he caught sight of the police sergeant ahead of him, also low to the ground with her weapon drawn. Pushing back the tingle of fear, he pressed ahead and caught up as she stopped to check her target’s position. As he approached, she whipped around and raised her gun, eyes wide and jaw set.

“What the hell are you doing?” Mary whispered, lowering the gun.

“Albert doesn’t need a babysitter, and I’ve already nearly got you killed once already today. I can help.”

“That’s bullshit. Albert definitely
does
need a babysitter.”

“Well, I’m here now.”

“Fine. Just keep quiet and stay behind me.”

Leopold nodded and focused his gaze ahead as he noticed a shadow crossing the floor about ten feet from where they were hiding. He pointed it out to Mary, who nodded and raised her gun in both hands. The two of them moved forward in a crouched position until they reached the end of the row of desks.

Leopold strained over Mary’s shoulder for a view of their target, who was facing away from them with both hands resting on his submachine gun. Like the other, he was wearing dark body armor and a helmet, meaning his hearing would be impaired. Leopold glanced at Mary, who seemed to be thinking the same thing.

The seconds crawled by, dragged out interminably by the clawing silence of the library. Leopold could hear his own heartbeat thumping. He could hear Mary’s breath beside him, coming in shallow whispers. The man in the armor turned and paced back toward them slowly, stopping just short of their hiding place. He turned around again. Surveying the room.

Rising quickly and silently, Mary brought her gun around and pressed it hard against the armored man’s exposed neck, just underneath his ear. At the same time she brought her free arm around the front of his chest, pinning his arms. Leopold saw the man stiffen as he realized what was happening, and then Mary brought her foot down on the inside of the man’s knee joint, forcing him to the floor. She coaxed the weapon away from him and hissed for him to lie face down with his hands above his head. He complied. She pulled off his helmet and brought the butt of her gun down on the back of his head and the man fell unconscious. She removed his radio and fished a plastic cable tie from her pocket and zipped it around the man’s wrists, behind his back.

A scuffling sound came from the other end of the room, and Leopold turned to see Jerome walk toward them, unharmed.

“Area secured,” said Jerome, brushing himself down.  

“Let’s keep moving,” said Mary. “There are probably others on the way.”

The group turned to make their way back to the corridor that led to the stair wells. As they passed by the printing press near the center of the room, Leopold heard the crackle of a two-way radio. A voice spluttered on the other end and three other voices replied, checking in with the team leader.

“Four more,” said Leopold.

“In the building,” replied Jerome. “There may be more outside waiting.”

Leopold heard a rustle from the far end of the room, near the exit, and froze. He sensed the others do the same. The noise grew louder, followed by the sound of something hard hitting a wooden surface.

“Ow!”

Albert stood up at the far end of the room, his head and shoulders just about visible above the desk partitions, and rubbed his forehead.

“Hey, guys, I’m sorry I missed all the action!” he called out.

Leopold hissed at him to keep quiet, but before Albert could register what was going on, four dark figures burst through the doors behind him. Leopold leapt to the side as the bullets began to fly. He saw Mary and Jerome do the same. He landed hard and felt a sharp pain in his side, probably a cracked rib, but he summoned enough strength to push back the pain and made his way to the edge of the room, sheltering behind the desks. He saw Mary and Jerome do the same, on the opposite side, mostly hidden by bookshelves. The antique printing press obscured the rest of his view.

He kept low and heard the shuffle of footsteps hurrying in his direction, making out two distinct pairs heading his way. As the footsteps neared, he peered out from around the corner of the desk to get a view of his attackers.

Two men stood in single file in the tight gap between the desks and the wall. They were dressed in the same armor as the others, both carrying the same weapons. He noticed them glance to the side, momentarily distracted by the sound of a muffled grunt from the other side of the room.

Leopold seized the opportunity and attacked, aiming low and slamming his palm into the side of the man’s knee joint where there was no armor. Leopold felt the cartilage crunch as the impact forced the patella out of place. His target dropped like a stone, too surprised to make a noise. Without wasting a second, Leopold stood and unclipped the man’s helmet, swinging it hard at the second attacker’s shoulder.

The helmet was heavy enough to knock the second assailant off balance, and Leopold used the momentum to swing the helmet back around, slamming it hard into the back of the first man’s skull where the bone was weakest. He felt the impact through his arm and heard a wet smack as the base of the disabled soldier’s skull caved in and he fell forward, gurgling. Leopold brought the helmet around once again and aimed for the second man’s head. He connected, and forced the helmet down over the man’s eyes, blinding him. In retaliation, the armored soldier kicked out with a heavy boot and caught Leopold in the gut, doubling him over and sending him crashing into a nearby desk. The boot’s owner grunted in frustration, before he finally wrenched off his helmet and threw it to the floor, exposing a scarred face and a shock of white-blond hair. Leopold recognized his attacker from his visit to the senator’s home several hours earlier:
Dolph
.

Leopold fought back the pain in his chest where the boot had landed and forced himself forward, shoulders low. He connected before his opponent could fire, knocking him off balance. He kept pushing until they hit one of the bookcases, slamming Dolph’s back against the shelves and shattering the glass. The submachine gun fell to the ground, and Leopold kicked it away. No good for close range.

Dolph punched Leopold’s chest and stomach with quick, short jabs designed for maximum impact. Leopold bunched his arms, shielding himself as though he were boxing. The jabs came fast and hard, and Leopold twisted so that some of the force was absorbed by the softer tissue in his upper arm instead of his neck or face. Still hurt like hell. Dolph pushed back, using his larger frame to drive Leopold toward the center of the room. A final hard shove and Leopold went over one of the desks. He landed with a thump on the other side, which sent a searing flash of pain across his body as the impact jarred his damaged ribs.

The enormous blond rounded the desk and made straight for Leopold. He hadn’t bothered picking up the gun. Before he could get up, Dolph aimed a kick to Leopold’s stomach, sending him sliding across the hard floor with a gasp of pain. A second kick knocked him against the wooden frame of the antique printing press. He balled up and the third kick landed to his shoulder, turning him onto his back.

Dolph’s next kick was aimed at the head, but Leopold twisted away at the last second and his attacker’s boot connected the printing press with a loud
thud
. The force of the kick must have shattered at least one toe, but the scarred giant didn’t make a sound to indicate he’d felt it. Leopold kicked out at Dolph’s shin and knocked him off balance, giving him the chance to get to his feet, where he took a split second to catch his breath.

The two of them faced each other, and Dolph advanced with his fists raised, jabbing at Leopold’s face, until the two men were toe to toe. Leopold weaved nimbly between the blows, taking advantage of his opponent’s slower movements, and shot both hands forward, aiming for the eyes. The blond’s longer reach was ineffective at such close range, and Leopold managed to get one thumb in Dolph’s right eye and he pushed hard. Dolph struggled to get away, but Leopold hooked his spare fingers inside the blond’s ear and held him fast. He could feel the eyeball moving around under his thumb. He applied more pressure and Dolph screamed. The eyeball started to bulge from its socket. It was nearly out. He kept pressing and felt the tip of his thumb hit bone. Dolph kept screaming. Leopold kept pressing.

The giant soldier wrenched free and covered his face with his hands, blood oozing from the socket. He howled in agony, then launched himself at Leopold, fists flying in a frenzy. Leopold ducked the badly aimed blows and used Dolph’s considerable momentum against him, shoving him onto the printing press, where he lay sprawled like a body on an operating table, jerking and writhing. His head was underneath the steel plate.

Leopold grabbed hold of the heavy screw handle above him with both hands and pulled. The screw drove the thick plate down onto Dolph’s face, and Leopold used his full weight to force the mechanism tighter. He met resistance, but pulled harder and felt the plate start moving again. He heard a wet crack as Dolph’s nasal bridge collapsed, sending blood and cartilage down the trapped soldier’s throat. Leopold kept pulling. He felt more resistance as the plate met the trapped soldier’s forehead and heard a muffled crunching sound as his skull began to give way. There was more blood and the cheek bones caved in. Dolph’s body still jerked around, and Leopold kept pulling. There were several short, sharp snaps as the plate crushed Dolph’s jaw bone and shattered his teeth; then he stopped moving. Leopold let go of the screw. Then he threw up.

“Leopold!” Mary’s voice was strained. She and Jerome emerged from behind one of the bookcases and they both ran over. Mary caught sight of Dolph’s mangled body and gagged.

The bodyguard nodded grimly. “Interesting improvisation.”

“I’m lucky to be alive,” panted Leopold. “Who knows what would have happened if they hadn’t been distracted.”

“I’m glad we didn’t have to find out,” said Mary, clutching her shoulder.

“What happened to you?”

“Nothing major,” she replied, dropping her hand to her side. “Guy got a lucky hit in. Jerome had my back.”

  “He has a habit of doing that,” said Leopold, wincing as the pain in his side intensified. “Jerome, do you have any painkillers in that first aid kit of yours?”

The bodyguard shook his head. “You’ll be fine. I’d be more worried about all the damage we caused. What was it you said they kept up here? The entirety of human civilisation?”

Leopold sucked in a deep breath. “Nothing a few checks and a well placed donation won’t cover. Maybe call in a few favors. We’ve gotten out of worse trouble before.”

Jerome pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll make the usual calls.”

Chapter 34

Leopold found Albert lying face down on the floor with his hands clasped over the back of his head, whimpering quietly to himself. After a few shakes to the shoulder, Albert eventually got to his feet, where he stood shaking a little, but otherwise unharmed. The reading room was in tatters, with scraps of paper piled up like snow where high-velocity slugs had ripped through the thick volumes and sprayed their contents across the floor. The broken glass from the cabinets crunched under Leopold’s feet as they made their way to the exit, and he felt his stomach lurch again as he caught a final glimpse of Dolph’s mangled corpse.

They reached the deserted stair well and Jerome took the lead, checking for any signs of danger. He held up a two-way radio, snatched from one of the bodies in the reading room, and waited a few seconds. Silence.

“Looks like we’re in the clear for now,” said the bodyguard, slipping the radio into his coat pocket.

Jerome led them down the six flights of stairs to the ground floor, and Leopold noticed one of the emergency exits at street level had been wrenched open, most likely where Stark’s men had entered. Jerome stuck his head through the disarmed emergency exit and waved them all through. They stepped out onto one of the narrow paths that wound behind the main university campus, sheltered on either side by carefully manicured bushes that stretched a dozen feet up into the air. The evening gloom had started to take hold and the light was fading fast, replaced by the muffled glare of the streetlamps that gave everything a slightly muted quality. A few seconds later, the bodyguard found the main gates and ushered everyone through to the main road, which was still lined with cars. Leopold spotted their battered SUV at the far corner.