He also heard the running footsteps coming up the hallway they’d just turned off.
“I shot one of the sons of bitches,” a man growled. “Know I did. Saw him stagger when the bullet took him.”
“If you did,” another man replied, “we’ll find him soon enough.”
“Not soon enough for me,” a third man grunted. “Those bastard monkeys are dangerous. Did you see what they did to those boys below?”
In the distance Dean saw another intersection. With luck the sec men would think he and Louis had made it that far. Instead of racing in that direction, he holstered the Browning, then ran a few short steps and jumped for one of the metal crossbars in the ceiling overhead. A number of the acoustic tiles were missing, making a checkerboard of the ceiling.
Scrambling quickly, Dean hauled himself up into the darkness and lay along the crawl space. He positioned himself so he could see down into the corridor, then slipped the assault rifle over his shoulder and snapped the safety off. He pushed the selector to full-auto, snugged the rifle into his shoulder the way his dad and J.B. had taught him, and waited.
The sec team talked briefly below. Dean didn’t look in their direction, not wanting to be a moving shadow above them. He’d gambled everything, his life and Louis’s, on the play that was about to go down. His breath came forcibly.
“Must not have been hurt as bad as you thought, Clement,” someone said. “Fuckers have already made the next corner.”
The sec team went forward at a cautious jog.
Dean watched them come into view. He slid his finger over the rifle trigger, taking up slack. When the five men came into view, staggered out a little across the corridor, he dropped the rifle’s open sights over the flamethrower tank on the back of the man on the left. He pulled the trigger, running through ten shots that struck the tank, then shifted to the other man with the flamethrower just now turning around to see where the shots had been fired from. Dean caressed the trigger, running the magazine dry.
Before the last shot cycled through the rifle, the fuel propellant in the flamethrower tanks blew up. Wet orange flames jetted everywhere from the explosion, curling against the windows on the opposite wall and filling them with a layer of soot. The wall on the interior caught fire in dozens of places, creating a stench that floated everywhere. Men screamed and writhed in agony until their lives ran out.
LAMARK WATCHED as the sudden flare of the propellant washed away the scene of the green-team member who’d gunned down the sec guards. He dropped the binoculars and glared at Connrad, whose face seemed to become carved of stone.
“They’re forfeit,” the sec boss said in a voice loud enough for them all to hear.
“Kill them,” Connrad growled. “Kill them all.”
Around them the sec men rushed toward the rope ladders that would allow them to get into the pit. Death was coming.
And this time LeMarck didn’t think even the one-eyed man could escape.
BLINKING AGAINST the spots that suddenly dotted his vision from the exploding fuel tanks, Dean reloaded the rifle, then dropped through the roof to the corridor floor. He felt good, then, more certain that he and Louis would find a means of escape.
He returned to the room, pushing through the door.
Louis spun suddenly, more quickly than Dean would have thought possible. The blaster in his hand went off, throwing out a foot-long muzzle-flash.
Dean jumped to one side of the doorway, the bullet barely missing him as it smacked into the door frame. “Shit, Louis, put that blaster down before you hurt somebody you’re not supposed to.” He walked into the room.
“What about the men behind us?” Louis asked. He held his hand to his side.
“All chilled,” Dean said. “My dad always told me to take advantage of a situation if I could. Those flamethrower tanks strapped to their backs like they were, those bastards were just walking grens waiting to have their pins pulled. I pulled them.”
“I don’t think I’m going to make this one,” Louis said. In the feeble light coming through the partially open door, his face was as pale as ivory, streaked with perspiration, and his eyes were starting to film over.