Page 134

He quickly fired two shots, then a third.

The man went down. He rushed to him and knelt to grab the bag.

Then he saw the man’s face. It was that of a swarthy, fortyish Latino. Bright red blood flowed down his hard face from the hole in his forehead.

Who the hell are you? Gurnov thought.

As Gurnov stood, he heard running on the boardwalk. Another man was rushing him, holding a Kalashnikov at hip level.

He saw his face as bullets fired.

“Ricky?”

—

Matt Payne watched the man in black clothing and the gray fedora raise a pistol at another man on the boardwalk.

Payne speed-dialed Rapier.

“Send the damn helo, Kerry!”

“On its way, Marshal.”

“Police!” Payne shouted. “Drop the gun!”

There were two shots. With each muzzle flash, the man on the boardwalk staggered back a step. Then a single shot followed, causing his head to jerk backward. He dropped the bag he was holding, and then his knees buckled.

The man in the gray fedora grabbed the bag.

Then a third man ran up. He was firing an AK-47 from his hip. The man in the gray fedora fell backward. The third man knelt briefly by the first man, then bolted down the boardwalk.

Payne heard Byrth shout, “Stop!”—and fire a two-shot burst.

—

Payne, pounding down the boardwalk, heard the wop-wop-wop of Air Tac One’s rotor blades growing louder. He looked over his shoulder and saw the beams of the floodlights from the helo’s belly sweeping the surface of the dark river.

Payne ran in the direction he’d seen Byrth’s muzzle flashes.

A moment later, a floodlight beam washed over him, then moved up ahead. It lit up the man, who was still up and moving fast.

Byrth took another two-round volley at him. That caused the man to suddenly turn back.

He was now running straight for Payne.

The helo hovered, its lights now brightly illuminating the entire boardwalk and most of the park. The pitch of its rotors changed with the wind gusts. Payne saw Byrth moving in his direction but away from the boardwalk.

Then Payne saw the dot of a red laser bouncing wildly across the boardwalk near the man.

Too damn windy for the sniper . . .

The man suddenly looked up and fired a half-dozen shots at the helo, then continued in Payne’s direction.

“Police! Stop!” Payne yelled, taking aim.

The man took two wild blind shots in his direction.

Payne squeezed the trigger. His first round hit the shooter in the shoulder. But he continued running. Payne squeezed off two more rounds, the shots hitting the man in the left chest.