Palazzi’s man laughed. “Well, which is it. Hands on my head or down on the floor. I can’t do both at the same time.”
The obviously flustered guard keyed his radio and spoke into it—a code word no doubt meant to convey there was trouble in the terminal. The guard had no idea how serious the situation was, and the help he called for was probably too far away to be of any use.
From behind and to the right of MacGyver, someone manually injected a shell into the barrel of a gun. At the sound, travelers again screamed and shifted away from the new source of danger. The security guard swung around, his weapon still leveled waist high. For several seconds, the guard and Tony Palazzi stared each other down. Sweat poured off the guard’s face while a diabolical smirk played across Palazzi’s.
If only MacGyver could get the guard’s attention and signal him to lower his weapon. Continuing this impasse was going to get him killed—best case scenario. Worst case—a lot of innocent people could get hurt in the crossfire.
“What’s your name?” Palazzi stepped away from a table situated near a corner food cart, leaving what looked like a plate of nachos and a beer. In a black overcoat and hat with a gun in his hand, his eyes shined, giving him a slightly crazed appearance. His face was lined and haggard. Apparently, the Vegas mobster hadn’t been sleeping worth a damn.
“Levinson,” the guard replied.
“Well, Mr. Levinson. I find it hard to believe you’re paid enough to lose your life over this. Drop your gun and no one will get hurt.” Palazzi sounded reasonable enough, yet the maniacal glint in his eyes didn’t let up.
“Sir, you’re in violation of at least three federal laws right now, so it’s you and your friend who should put down your weapons…before my backup arrives.”
Levinson’s voice wavered slightly, and Palazzi snickered, looking around at a couple of his boys, who joined him in laughter. “Oh…well…if that’s the case…” Palazzi’s grin disappeared.
No!MacGyver’s heart hammered in double time as he took a step toward the guard, holding his hand out in front of him as though he could force the rent-a-cop to drop his weapon. Time seemed to slow as he looked from the guard to Palazzi. The flex of the mobster’s trigger finger rendered MacGyver’s attempt to influence the guard pointless. It was already too late.
A single shot rang out, and the gun in Palazzi’s hand jumped, a thin wisp of smoke curling from the barrel. The security guard crashed backward into the coffee cart, sending glass decanters, cups and hot coffee in every direction. His handgun spun across the mud-tracked vinyl. Landing on his back on the floor, Levinson didn’t move.
Screams cut off in mid-breath as Palazzi pumped another round into the ceiling. “Nobody move!”
MacGyver closed his eyes for a moment, blocking out the uniformed man, lying amid coffee paraphernalia, a neat, round hole in his forehead and the back of his head completely obliterated. Levinson hadn’t stood a chance against Palazzi and the other gunmen in the room, but there was nothing MacGyver could have done. If he’d tried, not only would he have forfeited the game, but it was likely more innocent people would be dead.
He swung around to eye the madman with the gun. A nervous eye tick accompanied Palazzi’s scrutiny as he looked from person to person, and a muscle worked in his jaw, adding to his man-overboard appearance. Rage emanated from him until he looked ready to snap. Apparently, not getting his hands on Kellie, and thereby Anna, had been the final straw, sending the control freak over the friggin’ edge. Unfortunately, that wasn’t exactly good news for MacGyver. It was only a matter of time before Palazzi recognized him.
Brandishing his weapon, he spun in a half-circle, everyone’s full attention now fixed on him. “Nobody move and we won’t have any more unfortunate incidents. My friends and I will be out of here shortly, and no one else has to die as long as you do what you’re told. So sit down, stay put and be quiet.”
Terrified people began dropping to the floor in groups of two or three. A young girl, maybe fifteen, picked that moment to dash across the terminal toward a man and woman who huddled together on the floor, their arms outstretched toward her.
Palazzi whipped toward the clatter of footsteps. “I said down on the floor!” As he roared, the girl froze and clasped her hands over her ears, tears beginning to stream down her face.
“Please, please, she’s our daughter.” The father implored Palazzi while he tried to calm his sobbing wife.
“You should have taught your daughter some respect so I wouldn’t have to.” Palazzi stalked toward the girl, grabbed her hair and yanked her to his side. By sheer luck, the move placed her directly between MacGyver and Palazzi, guaranteeing MacGyver a few more seconds of anonymity.
He turned and dove toward one of several pillars in the center of the building. Jerking his gun free of his holster, he tucked his shoulder and rolled, jumped to his feet again and pressed his back to the concrete support.
People who’d settled onto the floor at Palazzi’s direction now scrambled to put distance between themselves and MacGyver. As he peered around the edge of the column, the man who still lounged near the bathroom door, Palazzi’s man number six, yanked his weapon free and made a beeline for MacGyver’s hiding place.
Aw shit!Not exactly what he’d had in mind, but sometimes a person just had to punt. Travis would have heard the shots fired. He wouldn’t be far away, which meant any minute he might come busting through the door. It was time to even the odds.
“Get down!” MacGyver yelled the warning to no one in particular. Hopefully, the men, women and children crouching around the edges of the room would figure out there was about to be lead flying through the air and hug the damn floor.
MacGyver peered from behind the pillar again. Palazzi hadn’t moved, still holding the young girl in front of him. Obviously terrified, she sobbed quietly, her unswerving attention dialed in on her mother and father, who’d risen and stepped away from the bank of chairs. They held each other, clearly afraid to move any closer, waiting to see what the man would do who held their daughter’s life in his hands.
Four of Palazzi’s men remained where they’d been, watching the doors, but now they appeared to be enjoying the show, wide grins on smug faces. Number five had a handful of napkins, brushing impatiently at the coffee that had stained his pants when the security guard upset the cart. Number six was the only gunman who concentrated on the spot where MacGyver had taken cover. He advanced steadily.
One at a time.Experience had drilled it into him during MacGyver’s years as a SEAL—focus on one target at a time, take them out and move on to the next.
When the gunman was about fifteen feet away, MacGyver stepped from behind the pillar. Visibly surprised, the man stopped and glanced around, probably for his wing man. Too bad the others were currently focused on their boss. As the realization that he was alone dawned on his expressive face, the man tensed and swung his weapon in an arc toward MacGyver.
MacGyver had a clear shot and fired. The gunman dropped to his knees and then toppled sideways, a dark red stain creeping down the front of his shirt. The gunshot reverberated through the building. Screams and sobs erupted anew. Palazzi’s men jerked toward the sound, clearly caught off guard, paused and scattered long enough for MacGyver to dive behind another pillar. Bullets ricocheted off the concrete above his head.
Observing the corners and edges of the room, he assessed his next move. There were maybe a dozen friendlies in the small terminal, including the girl, her parents and the brunette behind the ticket counter. Most were sheltering in place, close to the floor. MacGyver peered around the edge of the pillar. Palazzi had turned toward him, still holding the girl as a shield.
Two of the gunmen were apparently trying to flank MacGyver from opposite sides, creeping along the walls. In thirty seconds or so, they’d have a clear line of fire. He took aim at the closest one and squeezed the trigger. Switching sides, he fired again. Both men went down.