Judgment at Alcatraz Dave Edlund (detective books to read TXT) 📖

wall of the gift shop as the gunman sprayed the area with automatic fire. When his magazine emptied, he ejected it and rammed home a fresh one. Then he jerked back on the bolt and started hosing the area again. Danya knew from his action that he was shooting in panic, hoping for a lucky hit. An obvious amateur.

The red-dot optical sight on her weapon offered no magnification, but it wasn’t essential in close-quarter combat. She placed the dot on the gunman’s chest and fired twice—a double tap. The rounds hit his body with effect, but the bullet that struck the base of his neck is what killed him.

Staying low, she dashed away from the gift shop, toward the opposite end of the colonnade. Leonard caught her movement, despite the shadows, and snapped off a short burst.

As she neared the end of the arcade, the building housing the restrooms blocked any further gunfire. And it was then that she saw the line of seven drones.

“My God…”

She aimed the MP5 at the nearest drone and fired three shots. The third round blasted away fragments of plastic rotors. Then she methodically moved the red-dot sight to the next drone, and the next.

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Sacheen locked her fist onto Flynn’s windbreaker, her pistol jammed into his side.

“You double-crossing bastard. What did you do?”

“Nothing. It wasn’t me. You got a bigger problem, sister.”

Perhaps he was right. Someone had killed Charlie, and had taken his weapon. It had to be one of the tourists who’d arrived at Alcatraz that morning, before she and Leonard had taken control of the island.

The gunfire continued, although now it was from the opposite side of the restrooms. She realized what that meant, and turned around in time to see a drone shot to pieces. Even before the debris of the shattered remote-controlled aircraft landed on the pavement, the next one in line was suffering a similar fate.

Leonard had closed in tight with her, his MP5 pressed into his shoulder, and the muzzle going wherever his head swiveled.

“Back to the children.” She held Flynn close. “They’re our shield.” Then she raised the radio to her lips. “Kyle, I need everyone from the cell house to immediately converge on the ferry landing. We are under attack, and taking causalities. I think the shooter is in the barracks building, but I can’t confirm the exact location. Probably the portico. Move it! Now!”

“But what about the prisoners?” Kyle said. “Who’s gonna keep an eye on them to make sure they don’t escape?”

“Forget about the hostages, you moron. We’re on an island. Where are they going to go? Get your ass down here. Now!”

Pushing the FBI man in the lead, she and Leonard noticed the shattered windows of the gift store. They kept a watchful eye on the colonnade, expecting him to pop into view around one of the columns. It never entered her mind that she might be battling another woman.

With their backs toward the bay, the trio edged closer and closer to Toby and the kids, all lying together on the pavement.

“Get up,” Sacheen said.

The gunfire had ceased, and she didn’t need to check the drones to know they’d all been destroyed by the shooter.

“No,” Toby replied.

“Get up, or I’ll shoot you one at a time.”

“No. If we stand, we’re all in danger of being killed in the crossfire.”

Despite Toby’s defiance, Sacheen knew she had the advantage.

“Listen to me!” she shouted to the unknown assailant. “Whoever you are. Show yourself, or I start executing the children.”

Her challenge was met with silence, other than the whisper of a light breeze. She lowered her pistol, aiming at a small girl not more than ten years old. Her curly red hair partially hid her tear-streaked freckled face. She was sobbing, as were all the children

“Lower your weapon,” Sacheen whispered to Leonard. “Aim at the children.”

“What? I’m not taking my gun off this piece-of-shit federal agent.”

“Do it,” she snarled.

Reluctantly, Leonard lowered his submachine gun so the muzzle hovered over the children.

She called out again. “I mean it. I’m not bluffing.”

Danya had reversed course and stalked back to a position where she could see the hostages, Sacheen, and the gunman. Hiding in the deep shadows, and using a concrete column for cover, her eyes burned with intensity as she watched the events unfolding less than fifty yards away. Her perfect ambush had fallen apart and was seconds away from an unqualified disaster, a complete fubar.

Her mind flashed back to the school bus filled with children, in the desert—the mission she’d led, and that had been a near-total failure. Again, she was facing failure.

“Not this time,” she whispered.

Danya slowed her breathing, as she’d been trained, and relaxed her body. Adjusting her position, she took careful aim on Sacheen—placing the red dot of the holographic sight onto her head.

But Sacheen and Leonard weren’t fools. They’d pulled in close behind the FBI agent. The best Danya could do was to aim for the half of her head that was exposed. If she pulled the trigger, she would kill the leader. Of that, she was certain. But it was likely she’d either kill or maim the FBI man with the same shot.

The life of an innocent for the life of a killer? It penciled out when she considered the children’s lives hanging in the balance. Trouble was, there were two armed antagonists. And she could only kill one at a time, leaving the other one a full second, perhaps longer, to unleash deadly revenge on the assembled youth.

“Last warning!” Sacheen yelled.

Danya still hesitated to act, torn between what her training had taught her, and what her intellect told her. Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears like a drum, and it was becoming more and more difficult to regulate her breathing and keep a steady aim.

She moved the sight to the gunman. She’d seen him before, with Sacheen, and assumed he was also a leader of the group. But he offered no better opportunity for a clear shot.

“You think I’m bluffing? So be