Hitman Damnation

THIRTY-FOUR



The entire building shook as if a tremendous earthquake had struck. The ceiling collapsed in huge chunks of concrete. The blast so surprised Cromwell that he dropped the picana and screamed like a baby. In his mind he was back in Iraq. Back inside that preschool center as it blew up around him.

Despite my weakened state from the torture, I used that opportunity to leap for my Silverballer, which would have disappeared, buried under tons of falling rubble, had I not snatched it and continued to roll toward the pillar. I was banking on the hope that the column was acting as a support and that perhaps it wouldn’t tumble, and I was right. Nevertheless, huge blocks of cinder hit me and showered around Cromwell. I hoped he’d be killed, but he kept on yelling and moving toward the door. I aimed the Silverballer at him, but a mass of ceiling dropped between us just as I squeezed the trigger. Looking back at the entrance, I saw that the two guards had been crushed to death by large lumps of concrete. The only way out was by climbing over the rubble to the door, which, surprisingly, still stood in its frame.

Suddenly flames erupted around me. The explosion had ignited flammable material somewhere in Wilkins’s office or down here, and the whole room became an inferno. Once again, I heard Cromwell cry in terror. Fire must’ve been his Achilles’ heel, after his experience in Iraq. I couldn’t see him; the room was filled with smoke and dust. It was difficult to breathe. I knew I had to get out of there or I would perish in seconds. I shoved away from the pillar and blindly made my way toward the door. A large amount of wreckage blocked my way, so I scrambled up on top of it. From there I made out a dark human shape scrambling over the mountain of debris in front of the entrance. Cromwell. I pointed the handgun and fired. I was sure I missed as he disappeared on the other side. He was free. I stumbled and tripped off the junk I was on and landed in a patch of flames. My suit caught fire. Too pumped up on adrenaline to notice the pain, I simply rolled out of the blaze into a mound of dust and ceiling particles, which extinguished my burning clothes. I immediately got up and started climbing the ruins in front of the door. Once I made it down the other side, I found myself in the hallway outside the demolished room. I quickly took stock of my body. My clothes were singed and would need replacing, but I hadn’t suffered any serious burns. The Silverballer was still in hand. I had survived and was, as they say in America, ready to rumble.

The space to the stairs was cloudy and thick with all that smoke and dust. It was still difficult to breathe. I thought the air would be better on the ground floor. The stairway was undamaged. No place to go but up.

As soon as I reached the top, one of Greenhill’s guards rushed past. I swiftly pointed my gun at him, but he kept on running to the south. He was probably intent on finding Wilkins and missed seeing me altogether. I figured he was headed in the right direction, so I followed him. I darted to the corner and looked west. About eight feet away, the same guard was aiming a Browning 9mm at me! He must have heard me after all.

I dropped to the floor as he fired. The bullet sliced the dusty air above me. In less than a second, I aimed the Silverballer at him with both hands by supporting my elbows on the floor. My two rounds struck the chest and head. Double tap.

On my feet again, I navigated toward the T-intersection to see if Wilkins was in what was left of his office. The air was the worst that close to the blast point. The long corridor was full of even thicker smoke and dust. All that expensive artwork that lined the hallway—ruined. As far as I could tell, there wasn’t much left of the south wall of the mansion, and Wilkins’s office was completely destroyed. There was absolutely no way a human being could have survived there.

I turned back, reached the T-intersection, and ran into—

Helen and Wilkins. Together.

They appeared frightened. In shock. They seemed disoriented and were coughing a lot but were otherwise unharmed.

I should have raised the Silverballer and fired right then and there. But Helen was standing next to him and was staring at me as if she were looking at a monster. I have to admit that seeing her threw me. I hesitated.

Wilkins pointed at me and shouted, “There he is, Helen! The one I told you about! He’s responsible for this! Agent 47! He’s a hired assassin from the government!”

I held out my left hand. “Come with me, Helen, I’ll get you out of here.”

Tears were in her eyes.

“Is it true?” she asked.

“Come on, Helen, there isn’t time. You have to get out of here.”

She shook her head. “The inspector in Cyprus just confirmed who you are. The bellhop you left tied up in a room identified you from photos. Stan, is it true?”

I saw two guards, way in back of her at the end of the hallway, running toward us. Guns drawn. With my left hand, I instinctually moved in and grabbed her by the wrist—one she had once taken a razor blade to—and pulled her toward me. I raised the Silverballer while forcing her down at my side. Two shots. The guards fell.

I guess that answered her question.

She cried out as if I’d stabbed her in the heart.

Actually, I guess I had done that.

Never mind. Wilkins had already taken off down the hall to the east. Helen wriggled out of my grip and ran west. Both directions led to exits on those sides of the house. Confident that Helen would make it to safety on her own, I chose to run after Wilkins.

The atmosphere was so different outside it was like strapping on an oxygen mask and breathing sweet, fresh air from a tank. Still, I didn’t rush out the door without stopping first to see what was waiting for me out there. Sure enough, two more guards were headed my way. I went down on one knee, held the grip with both hands, and fired twice. The guards fell.

I ran out onto the grass.

Wilkins had already made it down to the gate. Helen had crossed from the east side of the mansion to the front and would reach the gate in a few seconds. But I was forced to abort the mission. There was no way I could follow them into the compound. It seemed that the entire population of Greenhill was on the other side of the fence. And a couple of dozen armed men were charging out of the barn. But I knew who they really were.

The New Model Army. And Cromwell was there, commanding them to kill me.

So I ran toward the lake. I’d survived in cold water before.

I could do it again.