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He counted the floors until he reached number six, understanding that the shooter could have gone to a lower floor, let him pass by, and then made his escape out the rear.
A moment later, he heard the sirens. Okay, the good guys were on their way. And an ambulance too, depending on what had happened in Katz’s apartment.
He opened the door to the sixth floor and peered inside.
He hesitated to use his Maglite because it would just make him a target. There was enough light from the windows to allow his eyes to adjust rapidly. The floor plan was open, which was good and bad. It cut down on the places Decker would have to look, but it also allowed him no cover while he did so.
He closed the door quietly behind him and skittered over to behind an old metal desk.
Take your time, focus, and listen.
All he heard were the sirens coming closer.
That could be drowning out any sound of movement up here. He redoubled his efforts to hear any noise the gunman might be making.
His position had been chosen wisely. If the shooter wanted to escape, he would have to leave through the door Decker had come through.
He decided to try to move the needle.
“Police. You’re surrounded. Put down your weapon and come out into the open where we can see you. Hands over your head, fingers interlocked. Do it now!”
He fell silent and waited.
The sirens outside had stopped. Any moment he expected to hear the front door being knocked open, followed by feet pounding into the building.
All he had to do was hold his position.
Come on, come on, show yourself.
If it was the same shooter, Decker didn’t fancy getting into another hand-to-hand battle with the guy. If it was the same man, he probably outweighed him by well over a hundred pounds. Yet he had grave doubts that he would win such an encounter.
That’s when he saw it.
The red dot swooping over the space, looking for him.
The guy had a laser scope.
That gave him the advantage over Decker, at least in some respects. But as Decker watched the dot flit around, the dust in the abandoned building was doing something quite remarkable. It was gathering around the light beam emanating from the scope, as though someone had clapped chalk erasers around it.
Decker quietly slid to his left, moving out into the open briefly before taking cover behind some crates. He peered over the top of the crates, but didn’t see the red dot anywhere.
He ducked back down as the shot came his way, smacking the wall behind him. The dot had apparently been on his head.
He kept moving, keeping behind the limited cover until he had worked his way to the far side of the room. He lay on his side and peered around the leg of a desk. He could see the red beam again.
This time he followed the thing to its source.
He lined up his shot. A large wooden box.
He fired five times, four through the wood, and when those shots flushed the guy, he unloaded his fifth shot at the exposed flesh.
He heard a grunt of pain.
Okay, he’d hit the guy. But it wasn’t over yet.
He looked for more red dots, but saw none. He slid forward on his belly until he had halved the distance between them.
He heard footsteps coming up the stairs.
