“Harper, we're on our way, just stop him from leaving the building.”
“Can't do that. He's taking pot shots out there and we can't have any more of our people getting killed because of me,” I ended the call and switched off the radio on my hip. I inched closer to the sliding glass doors. There was a smaller window above me but the blinds were down so I couldn't see inside. I was about to attempt to push open the door when I saw the wire attached to it. Shaking my head for nearly forgetting what Rich had told me to do I took out a penknife and equipped the scissors. Slowly I slid the two shining blades through the gap and cut the wire without detonating whatever it was attached to.
Checking that there were no more traps I opened the door enough to enter and seeing the flashbang next to the entrance. I moved inside with the pistol raised. As far as I knew the gunman was upstairs but there could be more traps for me. I kept my weapon trained on the stairway as I entered the kitchen to see an injured woman tied to a chair. Crossing over to her, I put a finger to my lips before whispering in her ear, “Where is he?”
I leant back and she looked up towards the ceiling, “Okay, I need you to get out of here. Go out the back and climb into your neighbour's garden. Try and remain hidden, and please be quiet,” I said to her as I cut the rope around her arms and feet. She had obviously been there for sometime as I could smell the odour of dried urine and when she tried to stand she struggled. Reluctantly I picked her up in my arms and carried her out of the backdoor. By that time she had removed the duct tape on her mouth.
In a rasping voice she murmured, “My husband. He is still in the house.”
“Okay, I'll get him out,” I was confused, wondering if she was suggesting her husband was the shooter but as much as most spouses would want to tie up and gag their partners I doubted the gunman would leave such an obvious witness alive. It also ran against my profile I had created for the man. Once the woman was over the fence I came up with a plan.
Entering the house once more I tied the two ends of the wire I had cut and hid in the living room. I covered my ears and eyes as I yanked on the metal, pulling the pin out of the flashbang. The explosion was much worse than on the roof as I was in the confined area of the house. This time I was expecting it and my precautions stopped me from any serious damage. Now all I could do was wait for the gunman to come downstairs since I did not want to try and go up to him if there were more surprises like the one on the door.
The flashbang however had ignited and a small fire started on the drapes that hung at the side of the sliding door. Smoke wafted through to the living room but I was focused on my mission. I heard creaking as a man walked down the stairs. My eyes remained focused on the reflection in the window which was beginning to be obscured by flames but was clear enough to make out the shape of a man.
He entered the dining room from the hallway with a weapon out before him much like I had done earlier and I stepped out behind him, pistol raised, “Drop the bag and the gun. Then interlace your fingers and put your hands behind your head or I will shoot you where you stand.”
A low chuckle escaped the man as he let the pistol in his right hand spin on his finger as he slowly turned towards me. However much I expected what he was going to do next I wasn’t ready for it when the gunman spun quickly and threw the gun in my direction and moved towards me. The weapon hit my arm but I still managed to fire off a round hitting the man in his shoulder before he ran into me. He hit me surprisingly hard knocking me off my feet and through a dining chair. My pistol left my grip which was fortunate as I needed my hands to protect myself as the shooter kicked me whilst I was on the ground. I caught one said kick and twisted his foot till he was off balance and also fell to the soft cream carpet, his blood staining the floor as smoke swirled around us.
He kicked out and we both rolled to our feet but he was faster than me and drew a knife from a sheath on his belt. I could see him better now he was facing me. His clothing was a black tracksuit with black trainers, underneath the jacket he had on a hooded jumper, the hood of which was up. The hood hid his features but that was greatly helped by a motorbike mask which had an eerie image of a skeletal face on it. The ghostly jawline seemed to smile as he tilted his head slowly to the left and then slashed at me. I moved away from the weapon but wasn’t fast enough to dodge the cut that went through my coat, jacket and shirt and deep into the flesh of my left shoulder. Although I couldn’t see the man’s eyes, I kept any pain out of my face and stared at him. We circled each other as he feinted and slashed at the air. He stabbed at me with his the knife in his right hand and I blocked it with my right forearm before whipping my body round and elbowing my attacker in the face with my left arm. It caught him on the temple and wobbled him.
Quickly I pressed my advantage by grabbing his knife hand and wrenching the arm, breaking his grip on the blade. However the man was not going quietly and, although dazed by my elbow attack, he headbutted me, sending me reeling.
Now unarmed he once again hurled his body, wounded shoulder and all, through the air, spear tackling me over the table. We slid over the varnished wood and to the ground and then out of the glass doors. Due to the flashbang detonating, the doors had cracked but the combined weight of two grown men brawling was enough to finish the destruction. Rolling over the shattered glass we separated but once again I was slower and received a kick in the face for my troubles. The murderer turned and ran from me, racing towards the fence at the bottom of the garden. I scrambled back inside and grabbed at my fallen Browning, firing twice after him but I struggled with my accuracy due to sensory impairment from the explosives and other physical injuries.
Standing, I ran as best I could to the fence to watch the shooter sprinting towards a car, the bag on his back jangling as he moved. I fired after him, this time my aim was better as I rested on the wooden partition. I hit the bonnet with three shots, the rear and front tires with two shots each and clipped the man’s leg before I had to take cover myself as the gunman returned fire with a revolver. Once he had expended six shots, I popped my head above the fence but could not see my foe.
I wanted to chase after the man but with the added oxygen in the dining room the flames had grown and were now licking outside of the house. Inside there was still someone trapped I was led to believe and although on a very personal level I knew the best decision would be to leave that man and hunt down the gunman who had been terrorizing the street, I couldn’t leave someone to burn to death. Holstering the pistol once more in my waistband I dove back into the burning house. Hoping the wounds I had inflicted on the shooter would hinder him enough for me to catch up with him I ran up the stairs.
Smoke filled my lungs and stung my eyes as I made my way higher and deeper into the house. Coughing and spluttering I tried my best to stay low and near the good air as I searched the rooms. It was only when I reached the bedroom opposite the police station did I realize how bad a situation I was in. The owner of the house wearing camouflage uniform was unconscious and didn’t wake even when I cut his hands and legs free from the rope binding. He was still breathing which was a good thing but he had also been doused in petroleum as had the room. The smell was strong enough to overpower the aroma of smoke that followed me up the stairs.
I crossed the man’s arms over his chest and put my hands under his armpits and proceeded to drag him out of the room and, with much effort, down the stairs. Before I reached the bottom though I took off my coat and wrapped it around the man. The air was thick with smoke and I was struggling for air. However in a feat of incredible strength on my behalf I shouldered the man and ran though the flames of the dining room and out into the garden where I proceeded to unceremoniously drop the man as I collapsed in a heap, sucking down cold mouthfuls of air.
Of course I could have broken my way out of the front door and avoided the fire but in the current situation I didn’t want to risk being shot by someone after making a grand entrance like that. Secure in the knowledge I had rescued two people from certai
n death I struggled to my feet and after patting out a small fire on the homeowner’s trouser leg I made my way to the fence and after my enemy.
Chapter Fifty Nine
The gunman limped away from the car he was going to use and down the street. His escape plan was completely hindered by the meddling of John Harper. The detective was becoming a problem and if it weren't for the fact that any further delay would have meant possible capture then he would have beaten Harper to death.
Now he was left limping away without his escape vehicle as well. The shot that hit his leg was really nothing more than a graze but it still hurt and was slowing him. The real pain was in his shoulder. Turning down a darkened alleyway between two rows of houses, he gingerly took the bag off his back. There was a lot less ordinance in there compared to when he had started the day. Inside he had a small first aid kit but there was only a roll of bandages that could help him. During all his preparation he had reluctantly admitted to himself that he could get shot or injured and was cursing the fact he had not equipped the bag with more medical supplies. What he did have was a small tub of sugar which he covered his wound with after unzipping his jacket and hooded sweater. It hurt but would help with the healing process. He needed to stitch the bullet wound but did not have the time at the moment, so merely stuffed the bandages to the holes to slow the bleeding. Luckily the bullet had not hit any major arteries and had passed straight through him but he was losing blood and if there was another altercation his strength would not necessarily carry him through.
The gash on his leg he held together before gluing it together with strong adhesive. He hoped it would hold as he stood up. Removing the last of his supplies from the bag and putting them on his person, he hobbled out into the night and towards his end destination as a light snowfall began. There was still hope that his final plan could succeed even with the setback of being wounded.
His plan always had him moving on to the Elsworth estate and the council flats there. The city council had been removing the eyesores on the landscape for years but the two ugly tower blocks still remained in the area. The 'Seasonal Shooter' could see them in the near distance and hoped that the police were following him. He could not hear the helicopter which seemed to still be hovering around the police station but the optics on the vehicle should be enough to track him. Even if they were not then the trail of blood from his wounds would give them a clear direction. The chopper was probably wary of staying close since he had fired and managed to hit the bottom of the aerial vehicle twice with bullets before he had had to leave his sniper’s perch earlier.
Still it was an acceleration of what he wanted to do and he rested the blame squarely on John Harper. He had estimated that he could stay in the house another five minutes before leaving. The intention was to set fire to the house and make it look like something had gone wrong on his end. The male owner was positioned near his rifle and if any clothing survived the fire then the investigators would see the camouflage and hopefully further convince themselves that the man was the shooter. Of course it was a fanciful ruse that some detective would surely decipher. If they then followed the footprints he was going to leave deep in the garden soil then it would not take much to follow his trail out towards the Elsworth Towers.
Originally it would be when he arrived there and set himself that he would make an anonymous phone call off another disposable mobile phone saying that there was someone carrying a gun going into Oak Tower which was the more well known of the two blocks of council housing the other being Maple Terrace. All of the housing in that area was named after trees since it used to be the location of a small wood when Elsworth was a mere village on the outskirts of the city. That sense of history was lost on the residents.
Oak Tower was were the Elsworth Warriors gang primarily lived and was not somewhere that the police usually ventured. No crimes were ever reported in the building which made it a haven for people on the run from the police.
Getting inside however was the difficulty. Although there were no guards per se everyone who approached the entrance was watched and if you entered and were not recognised then usually it resulted in a polite request to leave unless you had business there or occasionally a brutal beating which ensured you never made the mistake of going in there again.
The gunman had no worries about a beating and as he crossed the streets to the building he breathed a sigh of relief as he saw his plan coming to fruition. A smile even crossed his face underneath the mask as he thought about the possibility of Harper following him into the tower block. If his safety was guaranteed in the flat then the detective's was forfeit and after seeing the man fight him so valiantly before he had no doubt that Harper would bravely chase him wherever he went. However bravery was often for the uninformed and tonight that could cost John Harper his life.
Chapter Sixty
After leaving the warmth of the home that was on fire and removing my coat I was left shivering as I tracked the gunman's trail on the cold winter streets. The sun had set and the streetlights had flickered on, bathing the roads in orange light. Even in the dark shadows cast by the artificial light I could make out the bloodstains from the injured murderer.
It wasn't long till I found the discarded rucksack of my prey. One of the straps had a large hole in it which had come from a bullet fired by myself and was completely soaked in blood. Inside there were loose bullets and nothing much else. Next to the bag on the floor was a first aid kit which had been ripped open; most of its contents were covered in red fingerprints including a tube of superglue.
I was impressed with the quick thinking of the man to heal his wounds. However if he was having to do it now then he was probably in a bad way which meant hopefully he wouldn't put up too much of a fight the next time around.
One of the things that surprised me was that if he was so clever then why stop to try and minimise his wounds here? He had shown no remorse for breaking into innocent people's houses so he could have got off the streets and there would be little I could do to follow him as long as he was quiet and didn’t do too much damage. I was getting the feeling that I was being lured into another trap. The problem was that I was continuing to chase a man that could already be set up to take another shot at me. Why he hadn't done so already was something I worried about as I occasionally caught sight of a blood smear.
A few of them confirmed in my opinion that he was leading me along as they were hand prints on car windows. Snow had begun falling and the light dusting of white on the ground showed footprints and droplets of blood well enough and since the streets were deserted it was safe to think that they were from the gunman. That and I knew what type of shoe tread was on the sole. No, to me the hand marks were not the sign of someone falling down or resting but a clear clue to follow the man.
Before I even saw the flats of the Elsworth Towers I knew that would be my destination. It was notorious in the area and somewhere I knew I would not be welcome. Even with the protection afforded to me by Big Saul, something that I was aware that was tenuous at best after my faux pas in accusing Tony of the shootings, I did not feel overly confident of going in there and coming out in one piece. That was even taking into account that I was armed.
I knew it was the domain of Kai Nelson and he, as Saul had said, wasn't the best of people to trust with honouring agreements such as the one I had made. In fact I got the distinct feeling that the man would like nothing better than to shoot me dead on sight and blame the gunman.
Still if the 'Seasonal Shooter' thought that the prospect of being mortally wounded would stop me from arresting him then he was sorely mistaken. Rolling my shoulders and straightening my torn suit jacket, I walked purposefully towards the main entrance of what I could see was Oak Tower, as the one next to it named Pine did not had a blood smeared hand print on the door.
Before I went in I made a call on the police radio, “Suspect gunman has been seen entering the Oak Tower on the Elsworth Woods estate. Request immediate backup and armed response,”
I switched off the radio once more and dialed Spencer on my phone, “Spencer, I’m sure you are aware of that call I just made on the radio. Just pass it along the line that it is legitimate.”
“What’s going on, Harper?”
“The gunman is out of the house and wounded. I’m sure he still has some weapons on his person.”
“Harper, you do realize how dangerous it is following anyone into those towers? The gang police it themselves.”
Rubbing my eyes with my left thumb and middle finger I answered, “Don’t worry about me, just get me some back up down here. I think the gunman intends to end some more lives tonight. Remember Spencer, don’t call me I’ll call you.”
Opening the wire mesh glass doors I was hit by a sudden wave of warmth and smells. Many homes all cooking at the same time lead to an odd mix of aromas that made me feel quite nauseous especially since there was also the overriding smell of urine coming from one corner of the entrance hall.
The building surprised me; I expected more damage or graffiti but the entrance hall was relatively clean and, apart from that one corner, didn’t appear to be mistreated too much. There were the obligatory gang tags with spray paint on the walls covering what was once an off lime green and the elevator doors looked more like a work of art than defacement.
I walked in and took a deep breath through my mouth and let it out. If I had been wearing a tie I would have straightened it as I composed myself for the work ahead. There were two elevator doors in front of me and two doors leading to stairs either side of them. There was no evidence visible from the doorway to indicate which way the shooter had gone.
Walking deeper into the complex, the left elevator door opened with a chime. Instinctively my hand went to the pistol at the small of my back however the large woman who stepped out seemed no threat as she bustled past me. I smiled and nodded to her but she did not take me on. The second elevator opened and two youths walked out. They both wore the same sort of grey jogging bottoms and hooded jackets. The outfits looked comfortable but I didn’t know how warm they would be outside.
A Shot In The Night (John Harper Series Book 2) Page 25