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“Got’s me a brand new weapon, it’s so shiny shiny. Hello Mr. Pig, I’ve got a shiny new weapon, see? See?”
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“Sir, put it down”. Daniel was quietly insisting, Peter couldn’t help but notice the younger detectives skill at the craft. The man wasn’t buying it. “Shiny, shiny, oinky oink oink, shiny”. The gun was loaded, dangerous, but just waved around meaninglessly. It was the darndest thing. Surreal. “We don’t want to hurt you, sir, simply comply and everything will be fine. I know a nice, warm place where they serve soup and coffee, whaddaya say?”. Peter knew a few old tricks when it came to working the crazies, they all just took time to work, they had to sink in. And there was no time. The Primary, the killer, was just a few steps away, within reach, this whole night, this whole operation; it was that close to making sense.
And there was some reason for fear, there was no way of knowing the mans proficiency level with fire-arms, true, he did appear to be a destitute, smelled of the street, but he was an unknown.
Yet another unknown, this Secondary. Not at all what they had expected, but it had to be him.
His presence was obviously too convenient. Probably this, what he was doing that very instant, was his true purpose. Whoever hired out the Primary also had contingency plans, this was some operation. And it could be unraveled if they could just get the destitute to put down the gun. Loaded or not they couldn’t simply leave him there in the lobby, too many citizens expecting protection.
More often than not police officers will be for strict gun-control, usually in a big way. The weapon is supposed to be the very tangible line between those who deal in light and those who deal in darkness, Peter thought. This man, this man did not look dark, did not seem dark, but that was his childhood talking and the clear and present fact of the matter was that if the man kept waving the loaded gun around like that it was bound to
It went off.
The bullet, propelled by the explosion in the bowels of the gun, sped upwards and lodged itself in the roof of the lobby. Almost instantly Daniel leapt forward, knocking the gun away and pinning the shocked man to the floor. Shocked? No, that wasn’t shock, it was defeat. It was defeat and that meant that, without a word to the younger detective Peter lounged for the staircase. It had been a signal, it had to have been a signal. The Primary, he was right on his tail. He was the wave, then, the wave crashing forward to erode the cliff, that was how it had to be. He heard shattering glass one floor above him and knew what it meant. They were too late. Not to catch him, no, they were too late to stop him. The thin-fingered man rushed down the stairs, nearly stumbling. In the short while his trip had lasted Daniel had secured the gunman in the lobby, incapacitated and pacified. No. Seemingly pacified. But definitely incapacitated, he was not going anywhere.
“C’mon, we can still get him!”
The doors flew open spitting the pair onto the street into the rain. There was no trace, there was no trace, none. But a sound. Far off, mingling with the backdrop noises.
“He drove north”
“The spotters probably got his plates”
“But he’ll probably ditch the car”
“Probably”
That was it. They only had the destitute in the hotel and most likely a corpse in a room with a broken-down door and maybe someone had a bead on the car, maybe a helicopter saw the Primary go. Maybe maybe maybe. Damn!
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Two shots.
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