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When the shooting finally stopped, I was on the north end of the second story of the old factory building by one of the blasted-out windows.

Eyes closed, flat down on my belly with my cheek pressed to the floor, it took me almost a full minute to brush the glass dust out of my hair and eyes in order to look around.

I should have kept my eyes closed.

The room around me looked like an artillery shell had struck a direct hit on a landfill. Not just the windows had been shot out, but everything that was above waist height in the room. The antique furniture and cabinets and paintings and knickknacks and toys. Everything was broken, cracked, pulverized or in splinters. There were even big hunks missing out of the plaster and brick walls where they had been peppered with countless rounds.

When I had antagonized the mercenary on the SAT phone it was to make him do something emotional, to get him to do something stupid.

But maybe the additional anger I’d drawn out of him, I thought as I helped Colleen crawl out from behind a bullet-riddled chest of drawers, hadn’t been the best idea after all.

“Where to now?” she said.

“The middle stairwell. Come on. And stay down. Those windows are exposed now. There might be snipers.”

Down on all fours careful to avoid the glass, we crawled away south toward the stairs.

As we reached the next room, I called out.

“Is everyone all right?”

To our left, I saw Mathias and Mario crawling out of the rubble toward us.

“Just swell,” Mario said as he dusted shattered glass off his bald head. “This is better than Disneyland.”

We all reached the middle stairwell thirty seconds later. Suddenly, Mario pointed to the other side of the factory.

“Fire!” he yelled. “Fire!”

I peeked out. Mario wasn’t being sarcastic this time. Down the corridor, the entire ceiling was on fire.

“Down the stairs now!” I yelled as I saw one of the rooms down at the far end blossom up with flame.

We got to the ground floor by the barricaded door and then continued down the stairwell for the basement.

At the landing between the first floor and the basement, I stopped and went to the half-open window.

“Help me open this all the way,” I said to Mathias.

Mathias came forward and forced it open hard enough to shatter one of the glass panes.

“Now what?” Colleen said.

“We have to go out the back here and get up to the bridge and cross it to Mathias’s truck,” I said.

“But it’s too open. They’ll see us,” she said.

“We have to try. What other choice do we have?” I said.

“Wait,” Mathias said. “I have another idea.”