lurking
that his mouth was dry.What now? If men came pouring out of that hole, Harris wouldn’t be able to stop all of them. They’d be able to hit Doc and the others from behind.
He half turned. “Gaby, get up here!”
“I hear you.” Her voice, coming from right behind him, made him start. He craned his neck to look back. She was standing where he’d been just a few moments ago, at the corner of the building; all he could see was some of her rifle’s barrel, protruding beyond the corner, and a little of her silhouette behind the building edge.
“I have to go block that hole.” He grabbed his second handgun and sprinted across the street, stuttering a step to avoid running in the path of a northbound limousine. Once past the brick roadway, he moved cautiously up toward the dark hole, both guns out in front of him.
Concrete steps leading down into darkness. If he got close enough, anyone down below would be able to see him.
The thought of somebody lurking at the bottom of the steps, a shotgun ready, drove all the air out of his lungs. He circled around the hole, coming up on it from behind the tilted slab of concrete. That put him right beside Eamon Moon. He took a soccer-style kick at Moon’s gun, clattering it up against the side of the building, then put his shoulder to the slab and shoved. It obligingly keeled over and fell back into place, making an enormous hollow boom and stinging his feet through the leather soles of his shoes.
Situation under control . . . for now. He picked up Moon’s gun and trotted back across the street, keeping the slab, the dead man, and the bottom of the stoop in view. He knelt down behind the cover of the car. There were more shots from inside the building.
Harris could see Moon’s