Blindside (Michael Bennett #12)(32)

Alice heard Janos mumble, “What the hell?” She felt him move as he reached for his gun. In an instant, her plan fell apart. She had relied on her plans for almost a decade. Her strength in this business was that she was a planner. Most of the people working for criminals like Henry gave little thought to their jobs. Point them in the right direction and they killed someone.

Now she wondered if plans were worth it. Christoph and Ollie never planned anything, and now they had the drop on her and Janos.

Christoph had some kind of 9mm pistol. Ollie had a machine pistol. It looked like an old-style MAC-10. It was funny what raced through her mind in this moment of shock. Of course, it was Ollie who didn’t hesitate.

He flicked his head to move his stringy hair out of his eyes, something Alice had seen him do a thousand times. It gave Janos a moment to step from behind Alice and bring his own pistol into play.

As the two men maneuvered to get off their first shot, Alice heard the wave of terror in the coffeehouse. It started with the cop sweeping Jennifer off her seat and onto the floor. Then people started screaming almost immediately. The distressed reactions began at the counter and seemed to work around the room in a counterclockwise motion.

Her ears were already stinging from the screams when Ollie and Janos fired, almost simultaneously. The sound of Janos’s pistol next to her ear was painful. It was probably the closest she’d ever been to a gun going off without any warning.

Suddenly it was as if her head had been plunged underwater. Sounds were muffled and garbled. But she could feel each shot. The concussions jolted her.

Janos’s pistol had a deeper, solid report. Ollie’s machine pistol had a higher pitch that sounded like a typewriter. A typewriter that never ran out of bullets. At least it felt like that to Alice. It probably felt like that to anyone who’d ever been shot at.

Dishes crashed to the floor. There was a mad dash for the take-out door at the end of the counter.

Alice felt the limitations of her knife and garrote when everyone else had a gun. For the first time she noticed a small sign above the register that said gun-free zone. no firearms allowed in this business.

A barista in a white T-shirt staggered away from the two Dutch killers. A red splotch spread across his upper chest.

At least one of Janos’s bullets flew wide. Alice dove to one side, looking for cover. A couple of overturned tables near the door were her only chance.

Everything was happening way too fast.





CHAPTER 45





MY HEAD WAS swimming. That’s the feeling I got when I heard gunshots. At least that’s what I told myself. More likely it was just fear. But a detective with the NYPD couldn’t generally admit to being afraid of anything.

At the moment, I wasn’t afraid—I was terrified. I was lying on top of Jennifer Chang. She probably still wasn’t certain what was going on. I’m sure she wasn’t happy about a large man lying on top of her, but I thought that would be the best way of keeping her from being harmed.

Like many gunfights, this one had started with a couple of shots traded back and forth. The difference was that unlike most gunfights, the trickle of shots had turned into a flood. From three different guns.

Now everyone around us was panicking. They started to shove and run, knocking over chairs and tables as they rushed for the exit at the other side of the room.

I lifted my head, then scooted in front of Jennifer and peeked over our table. All I could focus on was the guy with long hair holding the trigger of a MAC-10. I couldn’t believe the number of rounds being spewed out from the small machine pistol.

One of the staff members, a young man with long hair held in a man bun, took a round right in the chest. He kept walking in a daze, then tumbled onto the floor just past the counter. A female patron lay a few feet from him. The gaping hole in her face leaked blood onto the shiny flooring.

A huge stack of dishes tumbled off a table somewhere. The crashing sound competed with the gunfire. It added to the hysteria. This was exactly what gunfighters counted on. They wanted chaos all around them so it would be harder to identify them later. Eyewitness testimony was notoriously shaky and, contrary to what most people would think, not the best evidence to convict someone.

I pulled my Glock but was hesitant to fire. I didn’t want to attract gunfire back to me with so many civilians huddled close by. That included Jennifer Chang, who was now on her knees and sobbing.

I risked looking at the main door. The woman had edged over to kneel behind a pileup of overturned tables by the door.

The man she had come in with crouched with his right arm extended. He was actually trying to aim during the exchange of gunfire. It had to be tough, with bullets whizzing past him from a machine gun and another pistol.

Then the man by the door went down. I think it was two shots from the pistol shooter at the counter. The rounds caught him just below the neck, in his upper chest. Both impacts staggered him. He shuffled back until he bumped into the frame of the door.

The glass in the door, which had already been penetrated by a couple of bullets, shattered as soon as he bumped it.

As the man stood there a moment, three rounds from the machine pistol struck him. All three rounds caught him at just about the center mass of his chest. He dropped the pistol, then tumbled out the door that now had no glass in it. His feet dangled over the bottom of the door and his body lay on the sidewalk.

The long-haired man with the machine pistol slipped another magazine through the grip of the gun.