"She's down. Head shot," Munoz said.
The words caused him to glance back at Jessica in a moment of panic.
"Jess is fine. Shooter was female," Munoz said.
"Targets from the rear," Melendez said, immediately firing three rounds down the long hallway.
Daniel jumped to his feet and pressed his body against the wall, moving to the opposite side of the vestibule to reduce his exposure to fire from the other direction. He kept his aim centered on the elevator hallway. Munoz shifted positions across the hallway, barely avoiding a fusillade of bullets. He reloaded the TMP as Daniel watched several bullets puncture the drywall and splinter the painted wood immediately behind both of them. Nothing moved in Daniel's sector near the elevator. Munoz's TMP cracked to life, spitting several tightly controlled bursts at their new assailants. Munoz expended thirty rounds in less than five seconds and pulled another thirty-round magazine from the top of his backpack.
"I hit one of them. We need to make a move, man," he said.
"Flashbangs. Both directions. We make a run for the elevator," Daniel said.
Another torrent of bullets pounded their position, missing them by inches and causing them both to hug the wall. Melendez responded with his pistol, but the suppressed snaps of his well-aimed shots sounded pathetic compared to the explosions blasting at them from the end of the hallway. Munoz opened his backpack and removed two black cylindrical objects. He tossed one of them to Daniel, amidst another burst of gunfire. One of the bullets grazed the top of his hand during the throw.
"Motherfucker," Munoz said, grimacing.
"You all right?" Daniel yelled.
"I'm fine. Let's get this over with. Pull!" he said.
They yanked the safety pins out of their flashbang grenades at the same time and threw them in opposite directions. Daniel's landed in the middle of the elevator vestibule, and Munoz's landed somewhere near the closest shooter down the long hallway. The M84 stun grenades had a time delay fuse of 1 to 2 seconds. By the time the grenades had landed and stopped rolling, they were milliseconds away from exploding. Daniel didn't wait. He reached inside Suite 1812 and pulled Young into the vestibule. Young fought him, trying to hold onto the doorframe, but Jessica hit his hand with one of the pistols she had grabbed from the bathroom floor. Young let go, and they nearly tumbled into the hallway as the flashbangs detonated. Everyone sprinted toward the elevator as Munoz unleashed a long burst from his TMP into the cloud of smoke billowing from the far end of the eighteenth-floor hallway.
Daniel reached the elevator vestibule first, sweeping from left to right with his pistol. Through the thin haze produced by the flashbang's magnesium/ammonia nitrate pyrotechnic mix, he saw nothing beyond the corpse at his feet and a bloody lump inside the elevator. The reflective polished copper elevator doors repeatedly opened and closed when they encountered the pair of lifeless legs protruding out into the hallway.
"Clear!" he said.
He walked swiftly toward the illuminated exit sign, turning his head once to confirm that Young and Jessica were following him closely. Munoz and Melendez ducked into the elevator lobby, taking cover behind the corner, while firing controlled bursts down the hallway. Their disciplined gunfire was immediately returned by a wild, three second hammering from one of the opposing submachine guns. Both of the operatives moved back from the corner as 9mm rounds slammed into the elevator doors and skipped off the walls. Munoz signaled with his hand for Daniel to proceed into the stairwell.
Daniel dropped the magazine from his suppressed pistol and replaced it, staring at the door leading into the stairwell. Anything could be waiting for them on the other side. Fuck it. They needed to keep moving. Police would hit the lobby within minutes, if they weren't already on-scene. They needed to be down these stairs and merging with evacuating guests immediately.
"Move to the side," he said, directing Jessica and Young to the wall next to the door.
Once they were clear of the opening, he pulled the door open, pointing his weapon forward. He instantly saw two men turn the corner at the bottom of the stairwell leading up to the door. They were armed with pistols and moving too quickly for him to apply any rules of engagement. His left hand flashed to meet his HK USP, and the gun kicked repeatedly as he rushed forward through his own shell casings.
His first rounds hit the first man center of mass, knocking him back into the second man. He heard one of their guns discharge in the tight stairwell, as he adjusted his aim while still firing. The remaining rounds from his pistol connected with the second shooter, splashing the painted concrete wall behind the man with a disturbing scarlet pattern. When the slide on Daniel's pistol locked back, indicating that he had expended the magazine, he realized that the first shooter was still alive and well. The man had been spun around by Daniel's bullets and dropped to one knee, but he hadn't collapsed.
His mind flashed with options, none of them good. He could stand his ground, reload and fire; try to close the remaining distance down the staircase and physically disarm the man; or retreat and hope that the man is too stunned to hit a moving target. Already halfway down the stairs, with his momentum moving toward the shooter, retreat was no longer a viable option. Stopping to reload didn't seem realistic either. The shooter's pistol hand was free from the limbs and body of his partner, already extending toward him up the stairwell. The grimace of pain and determination on the man's face sealed Daniel's decision. He charged down the stairs, trying to stay outside of the shooter's pistol arc.
A deafening boom pounded his ears as he collided with the man, viciously hammering the shooter's head into the concrete wall with his left hand, while pinning the pistol against the wall with the other. He felt the man's pistol tumble along his arm and hit his leg on the way to the carpeted floor. The shooter suddenly lurched upward and kicked out at Daniel, in a last, desperate attempt to survive. The kick caught Daniel off guard, striking his left hip and knocking him clear. The two men scrambled for the closest pistol, which teetered on the edge of the stairs.
Before either of them could reach it, the shooter's head snapped backward and hit the bloodstained concrete with a sick thud that could be felt over the ear-splitting echo of the gunshot. He glanced up and saw Jessica aiming down the stairs. A shell casing tumbled down one of the carpeted stairs in front of her and stopped. He really hoped these weren't cops. Jessica didn't deserve to have blood like that on her hands. The burden of unintentionally killing an off-duty police officer two years ago in Silver Spring, Maryland, still haunted him.
This type of mental reflection didn't fit the psychological profile identified by days of testing and interviews. The stone-cold, pathologically practical covert operative thought about the consequences of pulling that trigger nearly every day. Officer Samantha Rockwell had been executing her duties as a sworn law enforcement officer when her path crossed Daniel's. She'd caught him by surprise at the worst time possible and had been unceremoniously killed in a grocery store parking lot. It was unintentional…collateral damage. Not that it mattered to her husband and three children. Maybe the government psychologists had been full of shit from the very beginning, or maybe an "extremely functional sociopath" can have an emotional breakdown from time to time. Whatever the cause, he needed to convince himself that he hadn't killed another law enforcement agent.