The St. Paul Conspiracy (42 page)

* * * * *

Alt missed McRyan when he came through the doors. He turned to his left and ran down the long, forty-foot wide hallway between the meeting rooms. A few exhibitors were milling in the hallway while the convention sessions were taking place. They screamed as they saw a man running down the hall, brandishing an AK-47. He came to the open area at the west side of the hallway and heard screams behind him. He turned around and saw McRyan at the other end.

* * * * *

“Get Down! Get Down! Get Down!” Mac yelled when Alt spun around. Mac jerked a woman to the ground and ducked behind an exhibitor booth. The shots went high, shattering the Sheetrock of the walls above him, dust and debris cascading all around. The shooting stopped, and Mac rolled to his left, looked to the other end of the hallway, still seventy-five yards behind Alt. Alt was rushing away again. Mac pushed himself up and chased. Alt veered hard left, taking an escalator back down to the first level and the main Convention Center entrance on Kellogg Boulevard, fleeing outside.

Mac sprinted through the crowd to the escalator and frantically looked down. Alt was going out the doors. Mac quickly bolted to his right, where it was fifty feet to the indoor skyway that served as a bridge over Kellogg Boulevard to the Convention Center parking ramp on the other side. In the skyway, he could get on top of Alt he thought, maybe surprise him on the other side. Down ten steps, he threw his shoulder through the door and turned left. He was on the skyway.

* * * * *

Alt didn’t stop to find out if he hit McRyan. He jumped onto the escalator to his left, took it down two steps at a time. At the bottom, he turned right and burst through the doors out onto Kellogg Boulevard and heard the sirens ringing out all over downtown.

This wasn’t much better.

He had to get out of sight and out of downtown. He needed a set of wheels. There was little traffic coming from the east, stopped from the commotion caused a few blocks away. As he quickly looked back to his right, he saw the stoplight turn green. A single car was coming his direction from the intersection of Kellogg and West Seventh.

* * * * *

Mac, running across the skyway, looked left and saw Alt rushing across Kellogg at a forty-five-degree angle away from him but only to go through the break in the median dividing the east-west lanes of Kellogg. Alt’s diversion allowed Mac to close the gap. Alt got through the gap in the barrier and then looked back in Mac’s direction, but not up at him—back up the street past him. Mac looked right and saw it.

* * * * *

Alt moved towards the car, the assault rifle pointed at the driver. The car stopped, and Alt stood right in front of it. “Get Out! Get Out!”

The driver, frightened, with his right arm in the air, began to open the door with his left hand, when Alt heard glass breaking above him. McRyan was at a hole in the skyway glass he’d just shot out. Alt unloaded the rest of his clip up at the skyway thirty feet above the street.

As he fired, the car pulled away. Alt turned to give chase, but Riley came around the corner of the Convention Center. The assassin quickly popped in a new clip and fired at Riley, who dove away. Alt quickly turned to his right and sprinted for the parking ramp.

* * * * *

Mac was down on the floor of the skyway, lying in a pool of glass. He’d gotten two rounds off before Alt had fired. The shots had stopped. Mac got up on one knee and peered over the edge just in time to see Alt going through the doors and into the parking ramp.

Mac pushed up and scrambled twenty feet to the end of the skyway. He veered left and threw his shoulder through glass doors to a thirty-foot stairway. He jumped sideways onto the middle hand railing and slid down on his fanny. Took two strides through another set of doors into the parking ramp and saw Alt at the bottom of a runway, fifty feet away, turning to go further down into the ramp. Mac fired.

* * * * *

The shots sailed over Alt’s head as he turned to go lower. The assassin sprinted down, past the second-level elevator lobby, turning back east, hustling to the third parking level. He turned again, going down to the elevator landing between the third and fourth parking levels. Passing the elevators, he continued part way down the walking ramp to the fourth parking level and stopped.

* * * * *

Mac ran down the first runway and could hear the echoes of Alt running a level below him. Mac turned at the first parking level and ran down the ramp back west to the second elevator level, turned back east down the ramp and stopped about two thirds of the way down, looking directly right, into the third parking level and down the ramp and listened. He didn’t hear Alt running. He’d stopped.

Cautiously, Mac moved slowly down now, shuffling his feet sideways to the left, scanning the cars and trucks. He got to the bottom of the walking ramp and urgently scanned the lot again. He took a cautious step forward and his heart jumped as something broke to his right.

* * * * *

Alt heard McRyan coming down the ramp right above him and then heard him slow down. Now he didn’t hear anything. Alt calculated he was scanning the cars, thinking he’d gone into the parking ramp.

Gingerly edging his way back up towards the elevator lobby, Alt moved to improve his firing angle. He stepped back with his right foot, the rifle aimed up at the parking landing. As he stepped back, he could see more of the landing. He stepped back again and could see even more. As he stepped back once more, he saw McRyan’s hands and weapon pointed out towards the parked cars scanning the ramp. One more step back. He planted his right foot and heard glass crunch under his feet. He fired.

* * * * *

The bullets ripped at the loose right sleeve of Mac’s windbreaker as he dove back to his left, and the shots flew over his head. His service weapon was a popgun next to that damn assault rifle. The shots stopped, and he heard running again. Alt was going for the bottom. He had to be, it was the only way out.

Mac gave chase, hitting the third elevator level, and pausing briefly. He could still hear Alt running a whole level below him.

He kept after him, going back east to the fourth parking level and made the turn at a sprint back down to the last elevator landing. He turned to his right and stopped. In twenty feet he would be exposed coming down the last walking ramp. Alt was already in the cars he thought, waiting in ambush for him.

Mac quickly assessed his options. The sirens were way in the distance, although it was hard to tell eighty-feet below the main street level now. He looked at the last thirty feet of walking ramp. At the bottom on the right side of the cement half wall was a large square pillar. If he could reach the pillar at the bottom, he’d have cover. Mac stuffed the gun in his pants and crab-walked sideways down the walking ramp, staying below the top of the half wall.

At the bottom, Mac lay on his belly and pushed himself to the edge of the pillar and peeked around the corner.

* * * * *

Alt got down to the last level of the ramp and ran straight into the sea of cars and trucks. He needed to find something to hot wire. A white Chevy Impala was in the far row, near the exit for the ramp, the perfect car to boost. But McRyan was coming, and Alt had to take care of him first. He got to the third row of cars and ducked behind a Ford F-150 pickup with a camper top. The position left him a good angle at the walking ramp. McRyan had to come down, and he’d hit him when he did. He heard McRyan get to the last landing. Then the running stopped.

Alt trained the rifle at the walkway, waiting for McRyan to come. But he didn’t. The assassin edged out a little from the back of the truck, looking at the ramp, scanning from the pillar at the bottom, back up the walking ramp and then back down to the pillar. Where was he?

* * * * *

Mac saw the feet move, black dress shoes, next to a pickup truck with a camper top. He quietly pushed himself back and rolled to a sitting position. He set his gun in his hands and pushed himself up, his back against the pillar. He had more protection if he turned to his left, the half wall protecting his lower half, and he could duck behind it if need be. If he turned right, he would be totally exposed. He exhaled, turned to his left and fired.

The shots hit the camper top. Mac knew he missed, but he had position now and could wait him out. “Alt,” he called out, “there’s no way out of here.”

Sirens in the distance were louder now, zeroing in on their position. “The cavalry’ll be here any minute.”

* * * * *

Alt was trapped. McRyan knew it too and was calling out to him.

Then he heard it to his left, to the west, and he had new life. A hundred feet away a car pulled into the ramp.

Alt took off at a full sprint, his weapon up, pointed at the car, a hostage, and keys—a way out.

* * * * *

Mac saw it too and was out from behind the pillar, running at a full sprint, firing at Alt, missing wildly. He got off three shots before his clip ran out. He reached with his left hand into his back pocket and grabbed his last clip, looked down briefly, popped it back in and raised his gun again looking for Alt. The killer had stopped and was facing him. Mac dove away, but it was too late. He took a round in the left shoulder.

* * * * *

Alt knew he’d hit McRyan. He pivoted to run towards the woman again. Then to his right, another vehicle came down the spiral ramp, McRyan’s Explorer. Riley, was in the passenger seat, a gun drawn, scanning the garage. Alt fired at the Explorer, causing it to swerve left and careen into a parked car. Then a shot came from the right. Alt pivoted back that way.

* * * * *

Mac pushed up with his right arm and fired. His first shot missed. As Alt turned back towards him, Mac’s second shot caught Alt in the left shoulder, jerking his body hard to the left. Mac took a step forward and fired twice more, double tap, into Alt’s chest, sending him flying backwards against the trunk of a parked car.

Mac moved quickly towards Alt, his gun pointed at him the entire time. The assassin was slumped back against the bumper of the car, blood oozing through his white dress shirt, the assault rifle lying by his feet.

With his gun still pointed, Mac approached Alt and kicked the rifle away. The blood was dark, coming from the area of the heart. The sirens in the background would not come soon enough for him. The assassin was still conscious, but his breathing was labored. His head was drooping, but his eyes were looking up at Mac.

* * * * *

The rifle was by his feet, but, while his mind told his arms to move, they wouldn’t. Looking down at his chest, he saw the blood flowing through his shirt. It was dark purple, from the heart. Alt could barely get his breath now. It wouldn’t be long.

The assassin looked up to see McRyan approaching him, gun pointed straight at him. He kicked the rifle away. “How did you know we were coming?” McRyan asked.

Alt smirked, beaten by some Irish flatfoot kid. McRyan asked again, louder, kicking the inside of his right leg, “How did you know we were coming?”

Alt was fading now, things started to blur.

* * * * *

“How did you know we were coming?” Mac shouted a third time, but there was no answer. Alt’s chest stopped heaving, his breathing gave out, and his head fell to the left, resting against the bumper on the car. Mac checked for a pulse. The assassin was dead.

Mac winced in pain. He’d been hit on the top of his left shoulder, where the vest provided little protection.
You won’t be lifting weights any time soon,
he thought, although it didn’t look too bad, a little blood, it was worse than a graze, more like he was just nicked good. Lich and Riley were walking gingerly toward him, weapons drawn, although there was no need now. He looked beyond them to see his shot up Explorer. Cripes, what a day.

They all walked towards the driver of the car Alt had intended to hijack. She was shaking and crying. Lich opened the back door to her car and helped her sit down. Officers were coming now from both the bottom and top of the ramp. He turned to his friends. They had just saved his life, and he thanked them. “Took you guys long enough.”

“Hey, better late than never, boyo,” Lich replied.

“Yeah, and nice driving too,” Mac replied as he walked to his now totaled SUV.

“Christ Almighty,” Riley hooted. “You save the guy’s life, and he bitches about his precious SUV.”

Mac smirked as he grabbed a turtleneck from the back compartment. Guess the trip up north was out of the question. As he fashioned a sling for his left arm, he reached into the front seat, moved the now deflated airbag from the steering wheel and grabbed his cell phone, wanting to call Sally. “Dick, could the airbag even deploy against your girth?”

“Fuck you,” Lich replied, rubbing his knee. They all shared a pained smile and small laugh. They’d survived.

“Tell you one thing that wasn’t a joke,” Mac said. “They knew we were coming. I tried to ask Alt how they knew, but...”

“Yeah, well we still may have someone who can tell us,” Riles responded.

“Guess who survived our little shootout?” Lich added.

“Who?” Mac asked.

Riley grinned, “Want another shot at Ted Lindsay?”

Chapter Forty-One

“I know who tipped them off.”

Mac was transported to United Hospital. His wound on the top of his left shoulder required thirteen stitches. He wouldn’t be able to use his arm for a week or two. The Emergency Room doctor told him to take it easy, keep his arm in a sling, and he wrote a prescription for pain medication and ordered him to start a physical therapy program in a week or so, once the wound had healed.

Rockford was going to be fine, although he would be laid up for a while. He was raging about the shootout. “Find the mother-fucker who tipped those assholes off,” he said at least a half dozen times.

Two C.I.R.T. officers were in surgery and would be for several hours. The doctors were hopeful, but they both had been hit hard. Several others had been wounded, and the ER was a busy place. Having seen all of his fellow officers lying around with multiple wounds, Mac didn’t feel too bad about his little hit to the shoulder.