Page 20 of Mastermind

Bang. Bang.

Holes appear in the white sheets where we were standing a moment ago.

There’s a ping of a ricochet and the sound of something being hit, followed by an American voice screaming, “Fuck!”

I raise my head. Jessica shoves me back down. Bapbapbapbapbapbapbap.

Automatic gunfire tears through the air, followed by the sound of metal being punctured.

There’s more Burmese yelling—not yells of pain but anger.

I expect the sound of more machine-gun fire, but instead there’s a thud as a body hits the concrete near the stairs we just came down. The cop starts to yell for us to come out, clearly afraid to enter the alley blind.

“Let’s go,” says Blackwood.

“One second.” I hear a low gasping sound.

I pull away from her grip and run back to the stairs. A young man with a dark complexion wearing tactical pants, a T-shirt, and an armored vest is slumped on the ground, trying to keep the blood from gushing out of his leg.

I drop down beside him and press a palm hard against his thigh, trying to stem the flow of blood. He’s too shocked to react. “Hold on, friend,” I say to calm him.

Blackwood appears next to me and looks down. “Damn.”

“Hold his leg here,” I instruct her, guiding her hands to seal the wound.

I search the pockets of the man’s vest, dumping out two cell phones, wads of cash, magazines, knives, and, finally, medical supplies. Thankfully he’s got a bullet kit. I rip open the package and pull out the wadding designed to go into a wound and stop the bleeding. It’s a newer design that’s supposed to be safer than the ones used in the past.

“Hold him down,” I tell Blackwood.

She keeps the man still as I rip open his pant leg and jam the plug into the hole. My fingers find an exit wound on the other side. I tear open another package and seal that one as well.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” the man yells as the shock wears off and he starts to feel the pain.

“Hold on, man,” I tell him. “My name’s Theo. Let me wrap your leg.”

“His friends will be here any minute,” says Blackwood.

“Good.”

“No. Not good. Any one of them is ready to put a bullet in you.”

I look over and notice she’s used her foot to kick the man’s machine gun away from us.

I didn’t catch when she did that.

“One more second.” I make the wrapping as tight as I can without stopping blood flow to the leg entirely. “You’re going to be okay.”

“Why?” asks the man.

I think he wants to know why I’m doing this.

“What’s your name?” asks Blackwood.

“Willets, Jay Willets, ma’am,” says the man slowly as he descends back into shock.

“Remember this moment. Never forget it. Got it? We didn’t have to come back for you. Next time our paths cross, you should have no trouble understanding who the good guys are.”

He gives a feeble nod, more from fear and shock than any logical point she made. “Let’s go,” she tells me.