A
glint of white light flash across his eyes and he darted away just
in time to avoid the shot that rang after. Randal Marks did not
expect company. Not so quick anyway. The stranger kept shooting at
the wall where Marks had managed to dive to and used for cover. After
a short while the gun fire stopped but Marks heard the familiar
un-clipping sound. No doubt reloading for second round. Marks pulled
out his nine millimeter, a standard for the department of Wendell
Police. But he held his finger away from the trigger. There was no
way he was going to fire. That meant leaving a clear sign that his
gun was used and bullets to prove it. Not something he wanted.
There
was no option to run. The small apartment had one room where the
stranger had fired his gun from, sure enough to sounding the police.
Marks was stuck in the kitchen and as far as he could see there was
no window big enough to jump. But with the apartment being on the
fifth floor he didn't like the odds of diving feet first.
“Can
we talk?” Marks called out. He wondered afterwards why he even
asked. Like the guy who was shooting at you would be happy to chat.
But he had to do something. With the police on the way time was
running out.
“Sure
why don't we. Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my
house?”
Great
that voice, Marks thought. He definitely knew his assailant now. The
very man he planned to set up; James Monroe.
“Do
cops usually shoot first then ask question?” Marks said and slide
the kitchen knife he found on the counter into his sleeve.
“If
you know I'm the police, why don't you come out, hands up, slowly.”
Monroe said and Marks notice that the voice was low. Surely to mask
the fact that Monroe was inches away from the wall.
“I
remind you officer. I am unarmed.” Marks put his gun into his
hoister and walked hands up, backward toward Monroe. A very naive
thing to do showing your back to your enemy.
“Turn
around” Monroe shouted, but Marks took little notice and inched
further closer. “Turn around and let me look at you.”
“Hey
now.” Marks said calmly. “As you can see I have nothing in my
hands. My gun is in the hoister on my belt.”
Monroe
came close. “I know you don't I?”
Marks
turn his head to the side to give the man a good look and also took
the chance to see how close the man was. Monroe smirked and shove the
gun to his head.
“Wrong
move rookie. I'll be sure to be sad when I tell the brass that you
died mistaken as a trespasser."
When Monroe got close to reach for
Marks weapon Monroe only managed to get a shot out before all Marks
heard was a gargle sound from his open throat.
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