Green Light (Sam Archer 7) (22 page)

A
payphone, ten feet from the front entrance.

TWENTY SIX

Inside
the restroom, the big man pushed April back and slammed her into
the far wall, ramming his hand around her throat as the door swung
shut behind him.

As she
clutched at his forearm, desperately trying to loosen his grip,
April tried to make a sound in the hope someone in the bar could
hear but the man was too strong, his hold on her throat preventing
her from making any noise.

Unable
to breathe, pushed up so high her feet were almost off the ground,
she saw a smaller man duck into the room behind her attacker then
turn and lock the restroom door, making sure no-one else came
in.

Trapped
and helpless, she kicked out with her remaining strength but the
large guy didn’t even flinch and only tightened his grip, looking
at her impassively as he waited for her to lose
consciousness.

A beat
after he’d seen the empty stool and then the payphone outside,
Archer turned to see where the toilets were located, just in time
to catch a glimpse of a shaven-headed man disappear into the
ladies’ restroom. The guy had moved furtively, pushing the door
open then closing it behind him quickly; there was definitely
something wrong here.

Archer
ran forward and tried the handle, but the door was locked. Without
hesitation, he dipped his shoulder and rammed into it, smashing the
door open.

As it
swung back, he saw a second much larger man strangling April Evans
against the wall fifteen feet away, a silenced pistol tucked into
the back of his jeans. Judging by his build, he had to be Nina
Lister’s companion from earlier, black-haired, wide-shouldered, his
head twisting round as he heard Archer crash into the
room.

As
Archer reached into the back of his waistband and pulled his
Beretta, he was suddenly pistol-whipped hard in the face from his
right, stunning him and causing him to lose his grip on the weapon
which clattered to the floor. As Archer recovered from the sucker
shot, he saw the smaller guy already had his weapon up, aiming it
at his head.

Snapping
forward and pushing the man’s arm to one side, Archer jerked his
head back a fraction of an inch before the guy pulled the trigger.
That first bullet missed him by a hair’s breadth but the man fired
repeatedly, the rounds hitting the wall behind him, Archer feeling
the hot exhaust from the weapon as he fought to keep the suppressed
FN.45 aimed away from his head.

Kicking
the guy hard in the groin, Archer hit him with a flash uppercut,
popping his head back and stunning him as he fell to the floor.
Following up his advantage, Archer stamped on the guy’s hand,
forcing his grip on the silenced pistol to loosen which the blond
detective then kicked into one of the stalls.

Seeing
his partner in trouble, the other man released April, who sank to
the floor; stepping forward, he swung a meaty right hook which
cleaved through the air but Archer saw it coming and ducked under
the punch, immediately tackling the guy and driving him back,
smashing him hard into a stall. Riding another uppercut that Archer
fired off, the larger man connected with a thumping straight left
that cut under Archer’s eye, causing him to reel back.

Hitting
the basins behind him, Archer grabbed hold of one as support, leant
back and drove both feet into the guy’s chest just as he lunged at
him, propelling him back as he ran at him, buying himself a
precious few seconds. As his attacker hit the stall then came at
him again, Archer let go of the basin and grabbed hold of a
hand-dryer on the wall next to him with both hands. In a burst of
strength, he ripped the metal box off the wall and smashed it into
his attacker’s face just as he rushed him.

The man
ran straight into the blow, the force of the impact taking him off
his feet. As he hit the deck, Archer dropped the box, scooped up
his Beretta and turned to April, who was coughing and trying to
stand.

Despite
the punishment they’d taken, both guys were already moving which
meant Archer was left with one choice and it wasn’t to hang
around.

‘
Let’s go!’
he said to April, reaching
out and grabbing her hand as the two men lurched to their
feet.

Running
towards the door, he dragged her out of the restroom back into the
bar.

Racing
past surprised patrons and bar-staff who’d heard the noise of the
fight, Archer and April sprinted for the door, blood running down
Archer’s cheek from the big guy’s punch. However, a concerned
bartender had moved round from the bar and was blocking their
way.

‘
What the hell is going on? You can’t fight in
here!’

Before
Archer could answer, he heard a shriek from several customers
behind him as the restroom door smashed open.

‘
Get down!’
he shouted, pushing April
and the bartender to the floor a beat before he heard two muffled
gunshots, the glass on the front window shattering ahead of
them.

As he
hit the floor, Archer rolled onto his back, Beretta in hand, and
saw the large guy from the bathroom aiming directly at him.
However, he got there first and fired twice at his assailant, the
guy reacting fast for a big man, ducking back into the restroom as
frightened patrons scrambled under tables, the gunshots from
Archer’s Beretta harsh and loud compared to the muffled shots of
the silenced .45 pistols.

With his
gunfire keeping the two men back, Archer pulled April to her feet
and they ran through the front exit out onto the street. They made
it through the door just as the glass behind them was smashed out
from more rounds, the bullets burying themselves in a car parked
immediately outside the bar, setting off the alarm.

Looking
left and right swiftly, Archer couldn’t see or hear any cop cars
yet; quickly assessing his options, he realised that if they ran
either way down the street, they’d be gunned down in an
instant.

Without
a moment to spare, he grabbed April’s hand and took off again, the
pair racing across the street, weaving through the traffic and
heading straight into Central Park.

TWENTY SEVEN

With a
head-start on the two men, Archer and April sprinted into the Park
as rain started to fall heavily, the wind picking up, both of which
masked the sound of their running footsteps. The path they were on
split into two but without slowing, Archer steered them to the
left, the route he’d taken on the way here.

Suddenly, pieces of wood and leaves sprayed up beside them,
bullets ripping into the trees and pinging off a lamp-post to their
right.

‘
Jesus!’
April shouted as Archer
pulled her onwards, not allowing her pace to slow.

The path
joined a road with cyclists and joggers, apparently undeterred by
the rain. The road stretched out straight either way, offering no
cover, meaning they’d be target practice for the two gunmen when
they caught up with them in a few moments.

Knowing
they were out of options and time, Archer dragged April with him to
the left, the pair jumping over a metal railing and stumbling down
into the undergrowth on the side of the road.

The two
men appeared from the path just in time to see the cop and woman
disappear. They opened fire again, emptying entire clips, a hail of
bullets sending leaves and bark flying into the air as the fleeing
pair scrambled out of sight.

Reloading, the large man nodded to his partner, who stepped
over the barrier and pushed his way through the thick vegetation,
holding his pistol double-handed, his footfalls muffled by the
falling rain which pattered off the leaves around him. Staying on
the main road and looking down the sights of his own pistol, the
big guy waited in case the cop and woman reappeared, the side of
his head pounding from where the blond man had hit him with the
dryer.

Then he
heard two barking gunshots, the cop’s unsilenced pistol, and ran
forward, jumping over the railing and pushing his way down the
small slope.

Behind
the protection of a large tree, Archer fired into the earth again
so as not to risk hitting any passers-by. Backed up against the
trunk, cursing quietly as the increasingly heavy rain continued to
fall around them, his mind raced as he desperately tried to come up
with a better plan other than firing the Beretta to lure both men
towards him and away from April.

He
looked to his right, at the steep wet slope. It would take him at
least ten seconds to make it up to the railing and path, but he’d
have more holes in him than Leann Casey’s murder case-file by that
point.

That
left one other choice.

Stalking
in the direction of that gunfire, the two gunmen suddenly saw the
cop throw himself down the slope to his left. They fired at him,
the large guy scoring a hit but realising he’d only hit the blond
man’s vest before he slid out of sight. They ran forward and fired
again but he’d gone to ground in the thick undergrowth.

‘
You get him?’
his partner
called.

The big
guy ignored him, running forward to check behind the tree. The
woman wasn’t there.

‘
Shit! Where’s the bitch?’

On road
level, having hidden behind another tree as Archer drew their fire,
April pulled herself over the railing then put her hands up as
uniformed cops ran towards her from the East-side
entrance.

‘
Please help!’
she shouted.
‘Two men are trying to kill me!’

As two
of the officers moved forward and secured her in handcuffs, there
was movement from behind them. Snapping around, the officers raised
their weapons as Archer suddenly appeared, his hands in the air as
he struggled to breathe, having taken a bullet to the
vest.

‘
Drop the weapon!’

Archer
complied, two of the men moving forward.

‘
Down on your knees!’

‘
I’m a cop!’ Archer gasped, as he dropped down. Reaching him
the guy pushed Archer face to the concrete, taking the pistol from
the ground and looking at it.

‘
This isn’t Department issue. It’s a Beretta.’

‘
I borrowed it,’ Archer coughed. ‘ I’m with
the…Counter-Terrorism Bureau.’

‘
Where’s your badge?’

‘
I’m susp…ended,’ he got out.

‘
Two guys just tried to kill us!’ April said.

As
Archer and April were held, two officers appeared from the other
side of the railing.

‘
Anything?’
the Sergeant
called.

‘
Nothing,’ one of the men said. ‘There’s no-one down
there.’

Frowning
as he was dragged to his feet, Archer looked down at the thick
vegetation along the side of the road, his hands cuffed behind his
back.

All he
saw were wet leaves and branches moving in the wind.

The two
men were gone.

TWENTY EIGHT

Just
over an hour later, a squad car pulled up outside the
Counter-Terrorism Bureau, the officer behind the wheel staying
where he was as his partner opened up the rear doors to let Archer
and April out. Both had just about dried off but the girl in
particular was very cold, both from shock and because of her light
clothing, her legs bare under her red dress.

They’d
been forced to stay at the scene of the shootout in Central Park
for a while, Archer explaining what had happened. His claim that he
was a suspended NYPD detective had been quickly verified by the
Bureau but now he was in even deeper shit for running around while
on suspension with a pistol that wasn’t his and firing four rounds
in a public space. Confiscating Josh’s Beretta and bagging it as
evidence, the on-site detectives were refusing to let him go but
after a very short call from Shepherd, the reluctant cops drove
Archer and April to the Counter-Terrorism Bureau without further
delay.

After
the squad car did a U turn and drove off, Archer walked towards the
main entrance, April hurrying beside him. Pulling open the door, he
led her inside.

Marquez
was waiting for them beyond a security door and she buzzed the pair
in, looking at Archer with undisguised relief as he pushed the
heavy glass door back.

‘
You OK?’ she asked.

He
nodded; she looked at him a moment longer then shifted her
attention to April. ‘I’m Marquez. Call me Lisa.’

April
didn’t reply, too busy looking around the interior of the building
as the security door shut behind them. The Bureau was a hive of
activity 24/7 and pretty overwhelming for someone who’d never been
inside before, particularly a woman who in the past had done
everything she could to stay out of places like this.

In the
meantime, Marquez studied the side of Archer’s face and passed him
a tissue, filling a cup of water from a cooler to her left. ‘Better
clean up a bit. Isabel’s next door.’

Touching
the sore bump from where he’d been pistol-whipped, Archer took the
tissue and wiped down his face. A few moments later he looked at
Marquez, who grinned.