I wait until everyone’s in place and hidden before peering out again. The cops still have their backs to us. I look across the street and see the next vacant doorway that would provide adequate cover. It’s close enough that, from there, my next move will be to take out the cops.
I look at them more closely, now that I’m nearer to them. The four of them all look the same — like they’ve come off a production line at The Stereotypical Police Company. All of them are white males of varying ages. All look a little heavy around the mid-section. Their body language screams complacency and routine boredom.
I almost feel sorry for them…
I wait until I’m sure they’re pre-occupied among themselves, and then make my move across the street. I keep low, and move a little faster than a walk, holding my arms out and my palms facing outward, signaling to everyone to stay where they are. I reach the doorway opposite, slightly further along the street, and press my back against it. I pause to slow my breathing right down and compose myself.
I look round at them again. As I expected, they haven’t seen me. I step out and walk toward them. The two squad cars are at an angle with their hoods close together, like an arrowhead in front of me. The four cops are on the other side of them, facing Spring Street.
Time to act stupid.
I change pace and walk nonchalantly toward them, staring at the sidewalk as if I’m minding my own business and going about my day. I get level with the car on the left before I attract their attention.
“Hey,” shouts one of them. “You shouldn’t be here. This street’s closed.”
I look up, feigning surprise and confusion. “Hmmm? Sorry… me?” I ask absently, pointing to myself.
“Yeah, you. Street’s closed — go back the way you came.”
I frown. “What’s going on?” I ask innocently. “Is this a crime scene?”
Another cop, looking slightly irritated, takes a step toward me.
“We got a situation and it’s not safe to be here,” he says, pointing back down the street toward the Plaza. “Take a walk, alright?”
“But I need to get to my office, which is this way,” I say, pointing ahead of me.
The second cop takes another step toward me, and a third speaks up from the group.
“Hey, asshole — today isn’t the day, alright? Take the long way to work. Now fuck off before you get yourself arrested.”
I’m standing just in front of the cars, level with the four of them. One guy is about ten feet away from me. I need to get the rest of them closer…
“The long way round? That’s not fair! I pay my taxes, alright? You can’t talk to me like that! What’s your badge number? I’m going to report this!”
The other three join the first one and move closer still, putting them in a line about seven feet from me. The first guy that spoke puts his right hand up, moving his left to rest on his belt.
“Sir, you need to go back the way you came. It’s not safe here.”
“You got that right…” I say with a smile.
I step forward and grab his right wrist with my left hand, pulling him toward me. He loses his balance, having not suspected the attack. As he stumbles toward me, I whip my left leg forward, keeping it low and sweeping his right knee out from under him. He goes down, and I take two quick steps into the line of cops, striding over him and putting myself second from the left out of the four.
I crouch slightly and smash a straight left into the stomach of the guy to my right. As he creases forward, I stand and slash my right elbow behind me, catching the guy to my left on the jaw, sending him down and out for the count.
I look forward again, and bring my right knee up to meet the jaw of the guy I hit in the stomach. It connects flush on the side of his chin, and he drops to the ground, unconscious.
I sidestep quickly and lunge for the fourth guy who’s furthest from me. I grab his collar and swing him counterclockwise, lining him up with the first guy, who’s just getting to his feet. I push hard, sending one into the other. They fall like dominoes and I dash over them, crouching down and delivering a short, sharp right punch to both of their noses, causing them to jerk and twitch before going to sleep.
I stand and survey the scene, making sure I incapacitated all four of them.
“Okay guys,” I shout. “We’re good. Hurry it up and pick a weapon.”
I hear them jog toward me as I crouch back down and take the gun from the last guy I hit. It’s a Glock 22, which is a semi-automatic with a black chamber on an olive frame. He has two spare mags with him, each of which holds twenty-two .40 caliber Smith and Wesson rounds. It’s a very good handgun; lightweight and accurate, due to the muzzle break on the later models that reduces recoil.
I stand, tucking the gun in the back of my waistband. “Come on, tick-tock gentleman!” I say, urging them to move faster.
I watch as they gather the weapons, and then set off back the way we came, hearing them behind me. I pause at the corner and look back at them.
“Everyone good?” I ask as they reach me.
They all nod.
I glance around the corner and look down Peachtree Street. At the far end, I see lights, the hustle of the media, and the police. The ComForce building takes up most of the block, with just a few small stores on this side. I quickly glance at my watch. Stores should be open as usual, but I bet they’ve closed up because of everything that’s happening. There may still be people inside though…
“Okay, we go in one of these stores,” I say. “There must be a back way out… it’ll lead us to the back of the ComForce building.”
“Hold up,” says Wallis. “If you’re right, and we can gain access to the rear of the building, we’ll be pinning ourselves inside the alleys behind these stores. If they have people covering that side, we’ll be sitting ducks.”
I shrug. “You got any better ideas?”
“At least let’s look for roof access first… there might be a fire escape, but even if there’s not, we’ll be able to see any alleys or service entrances before we approach them on the ground.”
“If you wanna waste time scouting around while terrorists blow up the planet, go right ahead. Personally, I’m getting inside that building as quickly as I can. If I see anyone, I’ll shoot them.”
Wallis looks to Clark and Raynor for some kind of support. Clark holds his hands up in a keep me out of it gesture. Raynor just shrugs.
“Time’s against us,” he says to Wallis, before turning to me. “But that said, it don’t matter how quickly we get inside if we’re shot down the moment we do.”
I sigh. “Fine, come on.”
I keep low and head to the entrance of the first store, which is a local coffee shop. I try the door, but it’s locked. Inside, I see members of staff cleaning. I tap on the window and one of them looks over. I point to the door, and they shake their head, mouthing to me that they’re closed. I look at Wallis, who steps up without a word and places his FBI badge to the glass. The worker’s eyes widen slightly, and they turn to say something to their colleague. The two of them stand looking at us, and then walk over and open the door.
“FBI,” says Wallis, taking point and pushing past them into the shop. “Do you have a rear entrance, or roof access, to the property?”
The taller of the two workers steps forward, taking charge. He’s a skinny guy, probably younger than he looks, with fair hair and bad skin.
“Just the service entrance,” he explains. “There’s an alley at the back where we keep the trash.”
Wallis looks at me and raises an eyebrow. I nod.
“Perfect,” I say.
“Thank you for your help,” says Wallis, turning back to the worker. “Now lock the front door behind us and don’t open it for anyone else, understand?”