As he entered the parking lot of the McDonald’s he noticed a dark alley behind the restaurant, and beyond the alley was an eight-foot-high chain-link fence with a thick hedge on the other side. Court’s spirits rose quickly when he saw this; he felt sure he could enter the restaurant to misdirect the men chasing him and then immediately exit at the rear of the restaurant. Once he did this he could climb the fence, push through the foliage, and find himself in a new neighborhood, where he had a chance to get away.
For the first time he heard the sound of approaching sirens. They weren’t right on him, but they were close enough to where he knew this entire section of the city would be locked down tight within minutes.
Just before he put his hand on the door of the McDonald’s he looked back into the intersection behind him. The black Navigator was there, approaching in his direction and slowing next to two armed Townsend men in the middle of the street, who kept running towards him as they pointed his way.
So much for ordering a chocolate shake and waiting this out, Court thought to himself. He heaved the door open and ran inside.
26
Court drew the Ruger from his front pocket as he entered the restaurant. There were only a half dozen or so tables occupied, and everyone looked up as the man clad head to toe in black raised a small pistol over his head.
He shouted in his most commanding voice. “Everybody out!” and for additional emphasis he fired one round into the ceiling.
Screams and squeals erupted from both the dining room and the three employees behind the counter. The customers all jumped up from their tables and raced to the back door of the dining room, pushing one another to get out the door. Some ran straight to their cars, others to the safety of the all-night pharmacy next door.
Court rushed to the counter now, yelling at the employees, ordering them to leave. A panicked young man in a mustard-colored uniform held one hand up in surrender and, with the other, pushed a button on his register, opening the till, just as Court stepped behind the counter.
Gentry slammed the drawer closed and grabbed the young man. “I said go, kid!” He shoved him towards the exit.
The teen followed his coworkers to the front door.
Court raced into the kitchen now, just as he saw the last cook run through the back door of the building and out onto the raised concrete loading dock in the back alley. Court charged to the back door himself, ready to make for the back fence.
He managed two steps out the rear door before the Navigator screeched into the alley on his left. Its headlights illuminated everything, and there was no way in hell Court would make it over the fence and into the cover of the neighborhood on the other side without being seen and engaged.
The cooks ran around the corner in the direction of the front parking lot, but the driver of the Navigator obviously saw Court, because he slammed on his brakes in the center of the alley.
Court stopped, turned around, and retreated back into the McDonald’s, but as he passed through the door he fired a round into the exterior light over the door, blowing it out with a shower of sparks.
A man in the front passenger’s seat of the SUV reached out with a handgun and raised it at Gentry, only twenty-five feet away.
Court dove for the hard floor of the kitchen as the pistol cracked loud in the alleyway behind him. The round hit the door three feet above his back.
He kicked the door shut, then looked around the kitchen, weighing his options. He knew going back out front wouldn’t work; there would be at least two men there armed with submachine guns, possibly already inside the restaurant.
Court thought it possible the Townsend men would just cordon him off here and wait for the cops to arrive, but he also knew they would all be ex-military and sure of their martial skills. They would take it personally that, in their understanding of events anyway, the man in the McDonald’s kitchen just murdered their employer on their watch, and that would piss them off to no end.
Court darted back through the kitchen, in the direction of the front counter, and as he did so he noticed a metal ladder fixed to the wall on his right, just next to a walk-in freezer. Looking up, he saw the ladder led to a roof access hatch.
Court liked having the option of escape from the kitchen, even if he wasn’t quite sure what good this ladder would do him. If he made it onto the roof he’d be even more stuck than he was here, since at least here at ground level he had access to multiple exits.
Court stopped in the middle of the kitchen, trying to decide his next move. He had exactly five rounds of .380 ammo in his mouse gun. Whether it was the cops or the Townsend boys who eventually kicked in the doors of this Mickey D’s, Court knew he was in serious trouble.