The second Han-Jae pulled the trigger, the other seven men in the hall dove for cover. There weren’t many places to hide from bullets, so they had to make do with shallow recesses next to door frames. Two of his men retreated down the other side of the hall, finding protection behind pillars built into the walls. The blond motioned to the two remaining guys on his side to do the same.
Han-Jae and his four men ducked back inside the hotel room. While they had no immediate way to escape, at least they were protected… for the moment. That wouldn’t last, though, and Han-Jae knew it. Sooner or later the authorities would arrive, and there would be no getting out.
He peeked around the corner of the door and fired another shot to the left. The round sank harmlessly into the wall but caused the four men on that side to stay pinned back.
An older man, probably in his late seventies, poked his head out of a door close to the blond guy. The second he saw the bleeding man writhing on the ground and the other men with guns, his eyes opened wide and he scurried back into his room. The sound of a chain sliding in its receiver sounded faintly in the immediate area.
Han-Jae stuck the long barrel of his weapon around the edge of the door again, but this time it was greeted by a series of muffled pops from both directions. He dove back inside, narrowly dodging a barrage of hot metal from the men outside.
The one with the shaved head looked into his eyes. “There’s only one way out, sir.”
Han-Jae misread the intent in the man’s eyes. “If we have to go, we go out shooting.”
The henchman shook his head. “No, sir. I mean out the window.”
“It’s too far down. We’ll break our legs, or worse.”
“It’s only three stories. We can use the blankets and sheets to lower ourselves down to a safe drop. Only problem is getting out the window.”
Han-Jae stared at the wide piece of glass. Outside, the dark outline of jagged mountains stood against the sparkling sky. “Give me some cover fire,” he said. “Conserve your ammo. Just shoot enough to keep them back.”
The man nodded and scooted over to the door. Buzz-Cut joined him on the other side to provide crossfire.
Han-Jae rushed to the window and tapped it with the suppressor. “Perfect.” He took a step back, looked over his shoulder, and nodded at the two by the door. “Cover fire.”
The two men poked their weapons through the opening and squeezed off three shots each. Simultaneously, Han-Jae and Shaved Head pointed their guns at the window and unleashed half the contents of their magazines, making a huge square of holes in the glass. Spiderweb cracks slivered the window in all directions.
Han-Jae motioned to a club chair next to the bed. He and Shaved Head moved fast, picked up the chair, and stepped close to the window. They swung it back and forth until their momentum was what they believed was strong enough to break through.
“Fire again,” Han-Jae told the other two.
They did as told, taking three more shots apiece at the attackers in the corridor. This time, the other men returned fire, sending Han-Jae’s men retreating farther into the room as drywall, wood, and wallpaper exploded all around them from the onslaught of bullets.
“Now!” Han-Jae said to his partner holding the leather chair.
Both men released the chair at once. It seemed to float for a second in the air until the side struck the weakened glass, bursting through it easily and shattering the window into millions of pieces.
They didn’t watch the chair fall. They had to move quickly if they wanted to get out alive. Han-Jae grabbed the comforter first and wound it into a kind of rope. Then he took the top sheet and tied off the strongest knot he could muster. Shaved Head worked on the other end, using the main bed sheet and the extra blanket that hotels always seemed to provide.
Once their makeshift rope was done, Han-Jae motioned to one of the men at the door to help them. “Fire again,” he said to the last guy.
With a nod, the remaining man shot two more rounds into the hall in both directions before ducking for cover again.
The other three positioned themselves on separate corners of the bed, and when Han-Jae gave the signal, they all heaved, shoving the bed across the floor to the shattered window. The men grunted as the bed slid reluctantly. When the foot butted against the wall beneath the window, Han-Jae hurriedly tied off one end of the blankets to one of the bed’s legs. He gave it a tug and — satisfied it was secure — tossed the bulk of the sheets and blanket rope out the window.
“Go,” he said to Shaved Head first.
The man didn’t hesitate. He grabbed onto the rope, climbed out the window, and started lowering himself down.
“You’re next,” Han-Jae said to Buzz-Cut.
“You’re our leader,” the man said. “You should go. I’ll stay here and cover.”
Han-Jae shook his head. “That’s an order.”
Buzz-Cut didn’t argue further. He watched as the first guy reached the end of their rope and dropped the remaining eight feet to the ground. The landing wasn’t pretty, but he rolled out of the way and stood back on his feet.
As soon as Buzz-Cut disappeared out the window, Han-Jae stalked over to the doorway and tapped his guard on the shoulder. The guy looked up at him.
Han-Jae jerked his thumb at the window. “When he’s down, you go.”
“But—” the guy started to give the same protest. He was the youngest of the group. His hair was cropped to the side as was popular in the 1950s.
“Go,” Han-Jae said again.
The young man didn’t need to be told a third time. He got up off the ground and ran over to the window in time to see Buzz-Cut drop clumsily to the sidewalk. Sirens echoed through the city, and the sound filtered into the hotel room.
Han-Jae heard the noise as he saw the third man go out the window and over the edge. Han-Jae gave the guy a few seconds for a head start and then stuck his gun out the door. He fired several shots to the right and then emptied the magazine’s contents to the left. A quick press of the button released the magazine. He caught it, shoved it into a cargo pocket, and pulled a full one out of his belt. It took less than four seconds for him to reload the weapon and pull the slide to chamber a new round.
More shots came from the silenced weapons in the hall. The doorframe and surrounding walls were destroyed. The hallway light streaked through multiple holes in the wall.
Han-Jae darted back to the window and looked out. All three men were safely on the ground. Two of them were keeping watch. The third was looking up, an anxious expression on his face.
With no time to waste, Han-Jae shoved the weapon into his belt and grabbed the rope. He climbed over the ledge and pressed his feet against the outside wall, then hand over hand began repelling down the side. He reached the top of the second floor, and suddenly his right foot slipped from its hold. Han-Jae’s other foot slipped, too, and he swung out away from the wall. He looked up to the window and saw more lights flicker on.
The attackers were entering the room. He didn’t have time to do a controlled drop. His fingers ached from holding onto the sheets. Rapidly, he put one hand below the other until he reached the bottom of the second floor. There was still rope to use, but he had to hurry. Any second, the men above would be at the window with easy targets below.
Han-Jae let go of the sheets and fell the last ten feet. He struck the ground with a heavy thud and did his best to absorb the drop by rolling to the side.
The impact sent a sudden pain through his right foot, but he pushed himself off the ground and took off down the sidewalk. His three men followed, disappearing into the shadows around the corner just as one of the men in the room arrived at the window. He had a flashlight attached to his weapon and flashed it around on the ground, looking for the escapees.