Silent Night

FORTY

Reese Sway had just completed a final sweep of the apartment when he heard a series of cars pull up on the street below. The soft squeal of tyres and sudden killing of engines were giveaways. He ran to the bedroom window and saw people piling out of black 4x4 vehicles and run into the building. Panicking, he zipped up the bag of stolen valuables then ran into the den. The girl’s husband kept a weapon in the apartment, a pistol hidden behind some books. He grabbed the gun and a loaded magazine beside it then slammed the clip into the weapon and racked the slide. He ran to the door, rushing outside into the corridor.

Below, he heard the lower door to the stairwell open and the sound of feet pounding up the stairs.

He was trapped.

Turning, he ran up the stairwell, taking the stairs two at a time.



Archer, Shepherd and Josh were taking the stairs, Marquez and Jorgensen the lift. They’d heard movement above them and the sound of someone running up the stairwell. The three men took off up the stairs, taking them two at a time, when they heard the sound of a door being smashed open several flights above them.

Josh was the first to arrive at the already open door. It was the entrance to the roof.

He pushed it back and immediately there was a gunshot. Josh was thumped back as several more shots thudded into the door where he’d been standing.

Archer and Shepherd ducked back to avoid being hit as the lift opened behind them, Marquez and Jorgensen running out. Drawing their side-arms, Marquez, Jorgensen and Shepherd moved forward to the doorway as Archer dropped to one knee, helping Josh to the ground. He'd taken the round in the upper arm.

Archer clamped his hands either side of the wound as Josh grimaced.

‘Shit,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘This must feel like déjà vu for you.’



On the roof, the three cops took cover as Reese fired again, the gunshots echoing off the buildings all around them. He’d put one of them down. Keeping up the fire, he turned and ran towards the edge of the building. He stopped short and looked around, desperately looking for a way to escape. But the gap between this roof and the next was twenty feet. He couldn’t make it. He was trapped.

‘Put your hands up!' a voice bellowed.



Shepherd, Marquez and Jorgensen had him triangulated, three sights of three pistols trained on his head.

Sway had his back turned, looking out over the roof of the adjacent building.

'Drop the weapon!' Shepherd shouted. 'It's over, kid.'

Sway suddenly spun around.

He had his pistol sweeping up, aiming for Marquez who was the first one in the arc to his right.

Shepherd had no choice. Threaten his team, and he’d take you out in a heartbeat. He fired once. Not like the movies, where they aimed for the leg or a flesh wound. Sway had a weapon and had already shot Josh. That meant he needed to go down hard. The bullet hit Sway in the upper chest, the force punching him backwards. He dropped the pistol, which clattered onto the roof beside him, and fell back onto the edge of the rooftop, his back arched over the wall.

Keeping their weapons trained on him, Shepherd, Marquez and Jorgensen moved forward.

Sway was panting, his chest heaving up and down, a growing patch of blood staining the front of his sweater from the gunshot wound. Up close they could see that he wasn’t Finn Sway, although the resemblance was very strong. This guy was younger. The trio all watched him then lowered their weapons. The kid wasn’t a threat anymore. He was on his way out.

The young man managed to lift his head and looked down at the wound, his eyes confused. Then he looked up at Shepherd, the man who shot him. The guy was young. Barely a man. A younger Finn Sway. They were even wearing the same outfit.

The younger Sway grimaced, the heaving in his chest decreasing.

Then his head lolled to the side and his breathing stopped altogether.