Panic

“Nice car,” said Albert, as they approached the vehicle. “Remind me not to go on any road trips with you guys.”

Jerome took out the keys and unlocked the vehicle. Leopold reached for the handle to climb into the passenger seat but stopped suddenly, noticing a bright yellow clamp fixed to the front wheel and a parking ticket jammed under one of the front wipers. He swore loudly.

“Relax,” said Albert. “It’s not a problem. We can take my car.”

Albert pointed to an ancient VW Beetle, straddling the curb on the opposite side of the road. The car was covered in dents and most of its paint had worn away, replaced largely by rust and scuff marks from decades of heavy use. Leopold and Jerome looked at each other.

“Are you kidding me?” said Jerome.

“What’s the problem?” said Albert defensively.

The giant bodyguard shook his head and grunted, but didn’t push the point any further. Leopold heard Mary chuckle quietly.

“We don’t have much of a choice,” said Leopold. “Forensics will have finished with Hank’s apartment by now, which means Stark will be en route to clear up any loose ends before the detective teams get there.”

“Let’s get moving,” said Mary, taking off in the direction of Albert’s tiny car.

Leopold and Albert followed close behind, while Jerome loped after them with a reluctant expression. They reached the VW and the tour guide hopped into the driver’s seat and buckled up. Leopold and Mary climbed in the back, knees pressed up against their bodies from the lack of space. Jerome paused at the door and frowned, then squeezed his massive frame into the passenger seat with a grunt of discomfort. The VW sank about six inches as he sat down, his shoulders hunched against the car’s low roof. The bodyguard grunted again as he wrapped the seat belt around his contorted body and snapped it into place.

Albert started the engine with a metallic rattle and threw the manual gearbox into first with a disconcerting grinding noise, rolling the car out onto the road with a puff of black smoke from the exhaust. He wrenched the VW through various other gears as he sped up, trying to keep up with the other traffic as they merged onto the main road. The car struggled forward, eventually hitting its stride after a few minutes of spluttering from the old engine, and Albert breathed a sigh of relief.

Holding back a chuckle at the sight of Jerome squashed into the passenger seat, Leopold sat back as best he could and watched the traffic pass them on both sides. Mary pulled out her cell phone and made a call back to her office. Leopold didn’t look forward to answering the awkward questions that were bound to follow once the NYPD discovered the mess they had left in the library. He caught Mary’s eye and noticed she looked tired. She smiled as she noticed his gaze.

After nearly fifteen minutes the VW reached Hank’s street. Jerome pointed to a parking space at the end of the street and Albert pulled up, hitting the curb with a muffled thump. Jerome wrenched himself out onto the sidewalk, followed closely by the others. The street was silent, other than the distant hum of the city traffic and the wind that whipped up the litter decorating the road. Leopold waited for the others to rearrange their crumpled clothes before setting off in the direction of Hank’s apartment.

“Follow me. We don’t have much time.”

Leopold felt a crushing force hit him from behind and heard a loud crack as though the air above his head had just exploded. Jerome landed on Leopold, knocking him to the ground, followed shortly after by Mary and Albert, as the giant bodyguard grabbed the three of them and wrenched them toward one of the nearby alleyways, breaking off a nearby car’s side mirror in the process.

The four of them toppled clumsily onto the ground. Mary slammed into one of several full garbage cans as a second crack reverberated, and part of the alley wall erupted in a cloud of dust and brick. Jerome forced his huge palms down onto Leopold and Mary’s backs, forcing both of them to lie face-first on the ground, out of harm’s way. Albert had rolled a little further down the passageway and was taking refuge behind one of the fallen garbage cans, underneath the fire escape that snaked its way up the wall.

“Keep down,” growled Jerome. “We’ve got a shooter positioned a few buildings down. Caught the reflection of the street lamps on his scope.”

“Is everyone okay?” asked Leopold, glancing around.

Albert squeaked in the affirmative. Mary didn’t respond.

“She’s out cold,” said Jerome, leaning in close. “Doesn’t look like any permanent damage.”

The bodyguard assumed a crouching position, keeping the others behind him as he inched his way back toward the edge of the wall. He spotted the side view mirror that had broken away from one of the nearby cars lying on the floor, its glass still intact.

“Wait, don’t do it,” said Leopold. “It’s too exposed.”

“We don’t have a choice,” said Jerome, turning his head. “The alleyway behind us is blocked. If we stay here much longer the sniper will just relocate and pick us off.”

Without waiting for a response, Jerome pulled off his coat and held it out into the street, in full view of the sniper. Another crack hit Leopold’s eardrums as the jacket ripped in half, the bullet narrowly missing Jerome’s fingers. Without wasting a millisecond, the bodyguard pushed forward and rolled out onto the street, scooping up the mirror and rolling back into the safety of the alleyway as another round narrowly missed the back of his head.

“There’s no delay between the rounds hitting the wall and the sound of the shots,” said Jerome, “so the shooter can’t be that far away. Problem is, we can’t hit back without knowing his exact position – which is where this comes in.”

Jerome slid the mirror toward the edge of the wall and angled it at the far end of the street, in the direction of Hank’s apartment but on the opposite side of the road. A second later, another bullet whipped past, catching the edge of the mirror and knocking it out of Jerome’s hand. It landed a few feet away, useless. The bodyguard smiled.

“What the hell is there to smile about?” said Leopold.

“I caught the glare of his scope in the mirror. He’s on the roof of the third building to the right, on the opposite side. This is good news, as long as he stays put.”

“How do you know he will?”

“I don’t. But chances are he won’t move unless he absolutely has to. He’s got us pi

Leopold raised his hands in protest, but too late. Jerome moved with unbelievable speed and once again rolled out into the street, taking cover behind the parked car and drawing his Colt .45 as another crack rang out nearby. The car’s back window exploded, showering the sidewalk with glass. Jerome took a deep breath and launched himself away from the car, firing three shots in quick succession as he ran, before diving back to his hiding place next to Leopold.

The bodyguard shook his head. “The angle wasn’t right. We’re going to have to get closer.”

“What do you mean, we?” said Leopold, a sinking feeling clawing in his stomach.

“If I can get him to break cover, I can take him out.”

“Let me guess. You want someone to draw fire? You know, this isn’t typical procedure for a bodyguard.”

“You’d rather Albert tried his luck?”

Leopold rolled his eyes. “Fine. What’s the plan?”

“I need to get onto the roof here,” said Jerome, slapping the wall. “When I give the signal, I need you to move back toward the SUV. When the shooter spots you and changes position to fire, I’ll take him out from here.”

“The SUV? He’ll pick me off before I get anywhere close.”