Chapter 10 - The Gunfire and the Little Blue Elephant
BANG! BANG!
The unsuppressed roar of the .45 caliber rounds exploded through the enclosed stairwell with concussive, deafening violence.
The lead contractor collapsed backward onto the wooden steps, clutching his shattered shoulder as his weapon clattered down the staircase.
The second gunman fired a wild, panicked burst of automatic fire into the plaster ceiling.
TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
Plaster dust, wood splinters, and shattered glass rained down across the fourth-floor landing.
I dropped into a combat roll, coming up behind the brick corner of the laundry chute, firing two double-taps through the wooden banister.
BANG! BANG!
The second contractor went down, groaning and clutching his thigh, rolling down the stairs into the darkness of the third floor.
BOOM!
From the fire escape outside the landing window, a 12-gauge tactical shotgun blast shattered the window frame inward.
Marcus Reed breached through the broken glass like an avenging specter, rolling onto the floorboards, racking the slide of his Benelli shotgun with ruthless military precision.
“Landing is clear, Adrian!” Marcus bellowed over the ringing echoes of gunfire. “Julian Vance is retreating toward the rear alley with two bodyguards!”
“Check the apartment!” I ordered, reloading a fresh magazine into my Beretta.
I kicked open the damaged door of Apartment 4B.
The apartment was filled with drifting white drywall dust and the sharp smell of cordite.
Inside the nursery, Julian Cole was crouched over Evelyn and the twins, shielding them with his own body beneath the sturdy oak changing table.
Leo and Mia were crying hysterically, their little hands clutching Evelyn’s sweater as she sobbed, burying her face into their hair.
When Leo saw me walk through the door with blood spattered across my dark coat sleeve, his crying hitched.
He looked at my sleeve, then down at his small hands.
With trembling fingers, the two-and-a-half-year-old boy reached out from beneath the changing table, extending his blue plush elephant toward me through the dust.
“Don't hurt, Mister,” the little boy sobbed, his voice pure, innocent, and uncorrupted by the violence outside. “Elephan make it all better.”
My weapon lowered.
The fury that had carried me through twenty years of bloodshed evaporated, leaving only an ocean of profound, crushing, beautiful grief.
I dropped to my knees in the dust, sliding my gun into its holster.
I reached out, taking the small blue elephant with both hands, pressing the soft velvet fabric against my heart.
“Thank you, Leo,” I wept, tears cutting clean lines through the powder on my cheeks. “Daddy’s here. Nobody is ever going to hurt you again.”
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Evelyn looked up through her tears, seeing the ruthless Mafia king of Chicago weeping on her floor, clutching a toddler’s toy like the most priceless treasure in the universe.
The last wall of bitterness between us collapsed into the dust.
