Death Trap by Dreda Say Mitchell Page A

Officer Drake leapt to his feet. The gunman kneed Rio in the stomach as he slammed his arm back down. Rio swallowed the pain as she drew every ounce of strength she had to try to bring his arm up. Taking Rio by surprise he abruptly relaxed his arm. What the heck . . .? No, Rio’s mind screamed when she realised what he was doing – lining the aim of the gun directly with Drake.
    Pop. A bullet slammed into the other officer’s shoulder toppling him backwards. Rio took advantage of the gunman’s diverted attention – bent her knees and yanked him across her shoulders before throwing him to the other side. The gun clattered and skidded along the floor. Rio flung herself on top of the gunman’s body, letting loose a one-two combination of punches to his head.
    She twisted her head to Foster, who still remained on the floor, but was now crouched by the groaning, fallen policeman. ‘Get help,’ she yelled.
    A powerful jab smashed into the side of Rio’s head. Stunned, she hit the ground. Dazed, pumping oxygen madly to her lungs, she saw the gunman heave himself to his feet. Something fell from his pocket as he rushed for the gun. Rio tried to get up, but the heaviness in her head kept her pinned down.
    Get up. Get up. Get the fuck up.
    But she couldn’t. Her position on the floor gave her an excellent view of Nikki, lying in a protective ball under the bed and what had tumbled out of his pocket – an odd shaped, lethal looking knife. Her gaze jacked back up when she realised that the man was back. This time standing over her with the gun pointed at her head.
     
    3:14 p.m.
     
    ‘Help! Help!’ Foster finally shouted.
    The gunman looked over at the lawyer, then twisted around and headed for the open window. As Rio finally managed to sit up, two things happened at the same time: the gunman disappeared through the window and the door slammed open. Detective Jack Strong rushed over to Rio. His hands touched her, but furiously she shook him off.
    ‘He’s escaped out of the window. Get to your car and see if you can head him off from the ground. I’m going after him on foot.’
    Rio stood up, gave herself a few seconds to control the spinning in her head. As she belted for the window she heard sobs coming from Nikki’s bed; at least the girl was still alive. Outside of the window Rio saw the gunman about a metre below, fleeing from the rooftop he’d obviously dropped onto. Without hesitation Rio scrambled out of the window and made the drop.
    The roof was flat but scattered with gravel like stones that were evenly spread. Where the stones had been disturbed it was possible to see where her gunman had fled. She ran to the edge and placed her hands on the waist-level rail that skirted the edge of the roof. Rio instinctively tilted backwards when she saw how far down it was – four or five floors. No, he hadn’t escaped that way. She heard squealing wheels below and saw Strong come round a corner on a service road in an unmarked saloon. He slowed and leaned out of the window, looking upwards. Rio shouted, ‘Cover all the exits . . .’
    Strong cupped his hand over his ear indicating he couldn’t hear her, so Rio pointed down the roof in the direction the assassin had fled. Far below, Strong raised his thumb to show he understood and set off slowly, scanning the roof.
    Rio followed the marks in the stones, but the roof was complicated. Blocks of hospital rooms seemed to have been added on top, along with chimneys and small brick buildings. All served as access routes, which meant plenty of cover and a variety of escape routes.
    Rio twisted around when she heard a swishing of stones and footsteps. She moved close to the blind side of a chimney. With teeth gritted and clenched fists, she took some deep breaths and then swung round the chimney to confront the would-be killer. He was gripping a pole and looked up in alarm as Rio raced forwards. She landed a solid right full in his face. Only as he fell backwards did