In an aggressive move, he left the safety of the exit corridor and charged down the alley, firing as he ran.
At this distance, he didn't try for a head shot, but concentrated his bullets center-mass, all at the same spot. He didn't see the impacts, but he could hear them thumping the guy's vest. Although they wouldn't penetrate the body armor, their kinetic energy was delivering a beating.
"Kilo One, a car's approaching from the east in a big hurry. ETA twenty seconds. It's not a cop. Recommend you drag that gunman deeper into the alley."
Nathan copied the transmission and kept charging.
As he closed the distance, he adjusted his aim to the man's head and ended the dispute.
Eight rounds left in the current magazine.
The score in the alley? Three to zip, good guys.
He kept telling himself he wasn't taking lives indiscriminately. This was a live-or-die fight. He didn't feel good about killing, but didn't feel terrible either. His situation reflected what it often did: the real world.
The bleed headlight grew brighter and he sprinted the remaining distance. "Delta Lead?"
"Ten seconds."
He hooked his fingers under the dead man's vest at the shoulder and hauled the body deeper into the alley. Willing himself to be invisible, he flattened himself against the wall of Matthew's Heating and Air Conditioning.
He heard the vehicle's tire sounds getting louder and louder as the bluish-white light reached a peak. To his relief, the vehicle sped past the mouth of the alley at twice the speed limit.
"Stand by, Kilo One. That driver just hit the brakes."
CHAPTER 17.
Harvey heard Nate's query to Delta Lead, "What's that vehicle doing?"
"It's turning right at the next block. We'll monitor and let you know if it circles back."
Delta Lead suggested Nate drag all the dead gunmen into the exit corridor and Nate copied the request.
Harvey's NV was a little too bright, so he adjusted it down a bit. Being able to see in the dark against an opponent not equally equipped made for a huge advantage.
Staying low, he eased along the length of the Jaguar, then hustled across a gap between the next row of cars and kept moving toward the showroom's east wall.
He peered around the trunk of a car he didn't recognize and saw a gunman crouched near the rear bumper of a Rolls-Royce thirty feet away.
An image of shooting fish in a barrel flashed through his mind, but he shelved it.
He painted the gunman's ear with the laser and sent a bullet.
His brain scrambled, the man slumped to the granite floor and lay still.
The other gunman was somewhere near the offices toward the main entrance. Again staying low, he used the cover of the cars to work his way toward the elevator.
"Kilo Three, maintain position to support Kilo One."
"I'm secure out here," Nate said.
"Kilo Three, move toward the interior truss and try to get eyes on the gunman outside the main entrance. Delta Lead, is he still out there?"
"Affirmative. Target is looking through the glass near the corner of the building just shy of the main entrance. He doesn't appear to be in radio contact with any of the other gunmen."
"I can't see the gunman near the main entrance," LG said. "I'm adjusting my position for a better angle."
"I don't have eyes on the last man inside the showroom, but I think he's somewhere near the offices. Delta Lead, does your ground-level asset still have eyes in here?"
"Affirmative."
"Maintain continuous eyes on the elevator and stairwell door."
Grateful for his gloves, Nathan hauled all the dead gunmen into the exit corridor. There wasn't anything he could do about the snail-trails of blood. In the dim light of the alley, he doubted anyone driving along Olympic would see the smears. But if anyone turned into the alley, they couldn't miss them. Based on everything that had happened tonight, he didn't discount the arrival of more mercenaries. Thankfully, all the gunfire had been suppressed and the neighborhood fell into silence again.
"Kilo One, status?" Delta Lead asked.
"Available," Nathan said.
"Suggest you circle the building via the south alley and engage the gunman at the main entrance."
"On my way."
"There's no police radio traffic specific to this location yet. The dark showroom helps, harder to see the broken-"
Delta Lead stopped mid-sentence, then continued: "We've got activity on the roof. A man just climbed out of a hatch. He's running toward the west side of the building. He's in civilian garb and we spotted a handgun tucked into his waistband."
"Everyone copy that traffic?" Nathan asked.
Harv and LG confirmed they had.
"What's he doing?"
"He's talking to the guy down below at the main entrance."
"Is there any way down from there?" Nathan asked.
"Negative. Check that, he's climbing down the decorative lattice."
"Kilo Three, backtrack through the exit corridor and circle the building on the Olympic side."
"On my way," LG said.
Nathan ran past the shuttle and Dumpster and stopped at the intersection of the alleys. He peered down the south alley toward Stewart Street.
All quiet.
Halfway down the alley-next to the roll-up door the dealership used to get the exotic cars in and out of the showroom-some large recycling bins offered minimal cover. If he got caught out in the open, he'd have little chance against a fully automatic Mac-10. The slugs might cut through the plastic bins and their contents.
"Delta Lead, how far away is the entrance to the dealership from the corner of the south alley and Stewart Street?"
"About twenty yards. We lost sight of the gunman. We believe he's inside the entry alcove."
"Kilo Two, can you pop off a few shots at the gunman outside the main entrance and pin him down? I'm going to advance down the alley."
"I've still got a live one in here," Harv said, "but I can send a few shots through the windows. The falling glass will definitely distract him."
"Stand by to shoot on my mark."
Delta Lead cut in. "The man on the roof is about halfway down the wall; if he hangs from the bottom of the grid, he can drop the last eight feet to the sidewalk. He appears to be in good physical shape. He's descending that latticework with ease."
"I'm at the corner of Olympic," LG reported.
"Let me know when you're at the corner of Olympic and Stewart."
"I'll be in position in ten seconds."
Nathan decided it didn't make sense to have LG exposed along Olympic Boulevard. She'd be much better deployed covering his advance down the south alley. "Kilo Three, turn around and hustle over to my position at the intersection of the alleys. Let me know when you have eyes on me. Copy?"
"Affirm," she said. "On my way."
"Kilo Two, are you all set?"
"Yes."
Nathan heard LG's footfalls as she sprinted toward his position.
"I've got eyes on you," LG said.
When she arrived, Nathan noticed she wasn't the slightest bit winded. He gave her a nod. "Okay, Kilo Two, on the count of three, send two shots through the glass near the main entrance."
"Kilo team, the man from the roof's on the ground . . . he's running south along Stewart Street. He'll be at the south alley's mouth in a few seconds. Be prepared to engage him if he turns your direction."
Nathan copied and decided to hold position. The runner would either enter the alley or keep running along the sidewalk. He'd have his answer soon enough.
Nathan felt confident the runner was Tomas Bustamonte, given that his gambling cohort called him Mr. B, but fleeing the scene didn't fit the CIA's profile on him. Everything in Tomas's file suggested he'd rather fight than flee. He knew profiles could be, and often were, wrong. Either way, Nathan didn't intend to let him get away.
When he saw Bustamonte dart across the alley's mouth, Nathan stayed in the east alley and began a full sprint, paralleling Bustamonte's course.
While running, he said, "Kilo Three, regroup with Kilo Two inside the dealership. Clear the building floor by floor. We need to know if Ursula's in there. Delta Lead, let me know when you lose sight of the rabbit. I'm going to try to catch him at the Expo rail line. If I move out of radio range, I'll turn on my cell and mute it. Everyone copy?"
Everyone did and Harv added, "Proceed with extreme caution, Kilo One."
"I've got this," Nathan said, pumping his arms to generate more speed. If he could reach the end of the alley in time, he might get a glimpse of Bustamonte before he arrived at the Expo rail line.
"Delta Lead, is the rabbit still running?"
"Affirmative, but we just lost sight of him. I recommend you scale the fence at the end of the east alley and cross the tracks. The runner isn't aware of your pursuit."
"Will do. I thought I saw a huge recycling center bordering the Expo line. Concur?"
"Affirmative. He might try to disappear in there."
"Do you know if the recycling center conducts night operations?"
"Negative."
Nathan was almost to the fence when he heard Harv's or LG's handgun pop several times.
"Kilo One, do you need Kilo Three's assistance?" Harv asked.
"Negative," Nathan said. "Be prepared to bug out in a hurry if Delta Lead reports the police being dispatched."
"All quiet so far," Delta Lead replied.
For how long? Nathan wondered. Although all the gunfire had been suppressed, sooner or later, someone was going to notice the broken windows or the dark showroom, putting them out of business. And as LG had put it, that would be unsatisfying. He wanted Tomas and Ursula to experience the CIA's tender loving care. A lengthy stay at Guantnamo Bay would fit the bill. Ursula had come within an eyelash of ending his life and he'd had a lot of time to think about it while recovering in San Diego's naval hospital. LG was right: the woman had the emotional quotient of a copperhead and he hoped she was still in the building.
Nathan reached the end of the east alley and looked toward Stewart Street. He caught a glimpse of Bustamonte darting across the rail line. Directly ahead, Nathan saw he'd have no issue getting over the fence protecting the tracks. The problem was, he'd be in plain sight as soon as he did that. For now, Bustamonte wasn't running at full speed, but that would change if he saw someone chasing him. Although Nathan wasn't the fastest person for short bursts of speed, few people could outlast him in a prolonged chase.
Nathan waited a few more seconds, then hopped the fence. The sound of crunching gravel concerned him as he angled across the tracks, but it couldn't be helped. Nathan knew he'd lose sight of Bustamonte in a few seconds because a block wall separated the recycling center from the Expo line and it extended all the way to Stewart Street where it turned the corner. He'd need to reacquire visual contact quickly. When Bustamonte disappeared behind the wall's corner, Nathan made an all-out burst of speed to follow.
He didn't like the illumination coming from streetlights, but there was nothing he could do about it. He stopped short of the corner, peered down Stewart Street, and saw his mark still running along the sidewalk. Given the sizable distance between them, Nathan had no choice. He took off in pursuit, but stayed in the street next to the parked cars. If Bustamonte looked back, he'd have a fighting chance to avoid being seen by ducking.
As predicted, Bustamonte veered to the left, heading for the recycling center's wall. Nathan watched the guy scale the eight-foot barrier and disappear over the top.
That's a good trick, he thought, and Bustamonte made it look easy.
Would his prey keep running deeper into the facility, or try to hide and wait the situation out? If Bustamonte had a car parked at the dealership, he wouldn't likely circle back to get it. At least not tonight. Like Nathan, he'd expect the police to be dispatched-along with a helicopter-and it would definitely search the entire neighborhood with one of those super-bright spotlights. If Nathan were in Bustamonte's shoes, he'd put several miles between himself and the car dealership, call a cab, and come back for his ride later.
Nathan ran several yards past the location where Bustamonte had gone over, then hoisted himself up for a glance. Seeing no sign of his mark, he scaled the wall, dropped into the recycling center, and immediately liked the increased darkness. Apparently, recyclables weren't high on thieves' bucket lists.
He deployed his night-vision scope and scanned the yard, confident that the dark would prevent Bustamonte from seeing him.
Familiar with the recycling center's layout from his review of the satellite photo, he knew where the prominent buildings were located. As always, everything looked different from ground level. The wall bordering the Expo line held garage-sized, three-walled bins for holding various types of recyclables. Parked between the bins and the buildings, recycling trucks formed a long row.
If Nathan were the runner, he would've headed toward the large buildings to the southeast. They offered the most cover. There were security lights mounted on the walls, but they weren't bright and most of them were burned out or turned off to save energy.
Nathan estimated he'd scaled the fence approximately ten seconds after Bustamonte. That put his mark at least fifty yards distant in any given direction, assuming the guy had kept running at a medium pace and hadn't stopped to hide somewhere.
Rather than randomly take off in the wrong direction, Nathan stayed put. With only eight rounds left in his pistol, he decided to reload. The closest building was at least 250 feet away and he now believed his prey hadn't run that direction. Off to his right, several front-end loaders sat dormant against the wall, providing a good place to hide.
If he fired a few shots under the loaders, it might flush Bustamonte out.