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Chapter 25
I may have been caught by surprise, but experience and training had taught me not to let it linger. There was no way I could reach the Glock on my hip in time to keep Diego from putting a round into my face. Instead I braced myself and shoved the table as hard as I could. It was heavy and knocked him back, then it started to tip over.
He sprang back, but he still had the gun in his hand. Now I had an overturned table to duck behind as he fired a round. I felt the impact on the heavy wood.
The sharp blast in the hushed silence of the library was startling. Nothing like this had ever happened before in Butler Library. The effect was immediate. I heard screaming and saw students starting to scatter.
Now I had my pistol in my hand, and I shouted for everyone to hear, “Police, get down. Get down.” I crawled to the end of the table and peeked around quickly with my pistol in front of me. Diego was already running away.
There were more screams. I had to trust that the security guard, Todd, was already on the phone calling for help. Right now it was my job to make sure no bystanders got shot, but I couldn’t let this kid get away, either. He wasn’t just a killer: he was the key to breaking this drug ring and stopping the killing.
I got up from behind the table and started to sprint in the same direction Diego had run. I caught a glimpse of him turning to the right into the stacks of books. Each shelf went eight feet into the air and was loaded with thick reference books. It was like a maze, and he had spent a lot more time here than I had.
Then I lost sight of him completely. I was worried about stumbling into an ambush. That’s what I would do—stage an ambush—if I were as desperate as Diego was. I paused at the end of a long line of books. I took in a couple of breaths and focused. I turned quickly to charge up the aisle and immediately saw someone right in front of me.
I raised my pistol and shouted, “Don’t move.”
I heard a squeal and realized I had stumbled into a student. She was sobbing as she hit the floor, but she somehow managed to say, “There’s a man with a gun at the end of the aisle.”
I said in a quieter voice, “Run to the front. Do it now.” She sprinted past me, and now I could hear other people running away. That was good. At least from my perspective. Tactically. The fewer people I had to worry about the better.
I crept forward with my gun out in front of me, then I saw movement to my right. I froze and dipped down slightly and realized I could see between the tops of the books and the shelf above them. Diego was in the next aisle, and he was waiting for me.
I crouched down lower and continued to move forward until I was just about even with where I saw Diego in the next aisle. My heart was thumping in my chest, and sweat poured off my forehead. This was not something anyone expected to happen inside the library of an Ivy League school.
I listened but gained no advantage. Then I realized what I could do. I was sure he was still on the other side of the bookshelf, so I stood up quickly and shoved hard against the books just above the level of my head. They pushed through the shelf and started to topple down on the other side of the aisle. I heard someone squawk.
I took the opportunity to bound three steps ahead and turn into the next aisle. My gun was up and on target, and I could see Diego on the ground. But he had anticipated what I was going to do and had his pistol up. He fired one round, which went slightly to the left and struck the shelf right next to my head.
Instinctively I squeezed the trigger twice at the target directly in front of me. It was a simple double tap. Bang, bang. For an instant, I could see the look in Diego’s eyes. Then he fell back and dropped the gun onto the floor.
I immediately holstered my pistol and dropped to my knee. I reached down and pulled his thick T-shirt up over his stomach and chest to see two wounds just above his sternum. Blood was already starting to pump out. I placed my palms over each hole, hoping to stem the blood flow.
The young man made a gurgling sound and tried to lift his head off the floor.
I yelled out, “I need some help here.” A few seconds later, Todd appeared at my side.
He said, “Fire and rescue is on the way. What do you need me to do?”
“Help me stop the bleeding on one of these wounds.”
Todd didn’t move. He put his hand on my shoulder instead. “Mike, it’s over. You did what you had to do.”
I looked down and saw that Diego was perfectly still. I felt for a pulse at his chest and then at his neck. No more blood was pumping out of the wounds. He was dead.
I flopped back, and my shoulders hit the bookshelf. I sat there staring down at the teenager I had just shot dead.
From the end of the aisle a woman’s voice said, “You murdered him.”
My head snapped in that direction. It was a young woman, and she was staring at me. A young man joined her and said, “You shot him for no reason?”
Before fire and rescue and more cops could show up, a small crowd gathered, and they all picked up a similar theme. They thought I had acted rashly and fired my weapon without provocation. They thought I was some kind of monster.
Once someone was there to secure the scene and Todd was leading me toward an office where I could gather my thoughts, I kept hearing people say, “Murderer.” “Killer.”
Todd kept his arm on my shoulder and said, “Don’t worry about these ignorant morons. One thing I’ve learned working here is that I’m never surprised to see smart people acting like idiots. They have no idea you just saved their asses.”
At the moment their taunts didn’t bother me. The fact that I had to shoot a kid around Brian’s age was enough to make my legs weak. Once we got in the office, all I could do was drop my face into my hands.
