Chapter 11 - The Catwalk Sniper
The blinding white beam of the tactical flashlight pinned Leo to the dusty concrete floor of the abandoned turbine room, rendering him completely invisible behind the glare. The puppy let out a sharp, terrified yerk, burying its head deeper into the folds of the oversized jacket. Leo froze, his small fingers instinctively closing around the second key hidden in his pocket.
“Step away from the drainage outlet, kid,” a cold, detached voice called down from the iron catwalks high above. “Hands where I can see them. No sudden movements, or the dog gets a sedative dart.”
Leo slowly raised his hands, the tattered wool blanket slipping slightly off his shoulder. Squinting against the harsh light, he could make out the silhouette of a man leaning casually against the rusted railing of the upper walkway, a heavy suppressed rifle resting across his forearm.
“Who are you?” Leo asked, his voice shaking despite his best efforts to sound brave.
“Someone who cleans up loose ends for the administration,” the sniper replied smoothly, his boots clanking against the metal steps as he began to descend toward the floor level. “You’ve caused a massive amount of overtime for the city payroll tonight, kid. The mayor isn’t pleased.”
Leo backed away slowly until his heels hit the cold concrete base of a massive, silent turbine generator. His mind raced. Arthur and Evelyn were still trapped behind the sluice gate in the lower drains, completely unaware that a trap was waiting at the exit. If he let this man capture him, everything his mother fought to protect would be locked away forever in the municipal archives.
“You can’t have the pin,” Leo said defiantly, his hand slipping into his pocket to grip the duplicate key.
“Oh, I think I can,” the sniper chuckled, taking another slow step down the final flight of stairs, his boots hitting the concrete with a heavy thud. He raised his left hand, holding out a small, empty travel crate. “Put the dog in the box, hand over the blanket, and walk toward the light. Make it easy on yourself.”
The puppy whimpered, sensing the lethal tension in the air. Without warning, the animal twisted out of Leo’s grip, hitting the dusty floor and scrambling frantically beneath the massive iron housing of the dead generator.
“Stupid mutt,” the sniper cursed, snapping his flashlight beam downward to track the scurrying animal. He raised the rifle slightly, adjusting his aim toward the shadows beneath the machine.
“Leave him alone!” Leo screamed, throwing caution aside. He whipped the second key out of his pocket and hurled it with all his tiny strength straight at the sniper’s face.
The heavy piece of brass struck the man squarely on the cheekbone with a sharp clack, drawing a sudden curse of pain and surprise as the sniper stumbled backward, his flashlight sweeping wildly across the cavernous room.
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Before the man could recover his aim, a heavy iron crowbar came crashing out of the darkness behind him, striking him cleanly across the shoulder and sending him sprawling onto the concrete.
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