Antonio came crashing back into the hall, knocked into a hard spin by a bullet to the shoulder. His weapon went flying. Naomi fell back, landing on her backside. She managed to grab the skittering pistol as an armored figure shoved into the hall.
She struggled to get the weapon pointed.
The soldier had no such problem and aimed his pistol at Antonio’s face.
Another thunderous blast deafened Naomi.
Only this time, the noise had come from behind her. She twisted to see Chiara standing there, a pistol smoking in her cradled grip. Ahead, the soldier gasped and choked, shot through the neck.
Antonio kicked the legs out from under the man.
Chiara pulled Naomi up. “Hurry.”
As they reached Antonio, blood seeped through his parka. Still, he relieved Naomi of her pistol. From inside the room, a door slammed.
Fearing for Tag, Naomi rushed with the others into the room. No other assailants were in view. The Indian woman—Burman—had retreated out the French doors to the balcony. She held a pistol in one hand and a thick-antennaed satellite phone in the other.
Chiara swept her aim around the room, wary of any other hidden gunmen. Antonio focused his fury on the lone target in sight. He fired at Burman. His round shattered the window. Outside, the woman lifted her pistol and tossed it aside, plainly knowing any resistance would only get her killed.
Still, she kept her phone at her ear.
Fearing a call for reinforcements, Naomi ran toward the French doors. As she passed the sofa, she spotted Tag sprawled there, limp and unmoving, his face blue, his eyes staring glassily at the ceiling. His shirt had been torn open, showing burn marks on his chest from a defibrillator sitting on the floor.
No . . .
Naomi screamed, a wordless cry of rage, and burst out to the balcony.
Burman backed to the rail, still clutching the phone. She must have gone outside to get a bead on a satellite, as cell service remained down. She finally gave up and held the device to the side.
“I... It’s not my fault,” the woman begged. “His body couldn’t handle the recovery. Had a seizure. We tried to revive him. I swear.”
Naomi didn’t care. She led with the only weapon at hand. She jammed the Taser into the woman’s belly. Burman screamed, her body stiffening into a trembling rod. Unable to stop the momentum of her charge, Naomi shouldered into the woman, catching a jolting trace of the Taser before it automatically cut off.
The impact threw Burman over the balcony’s edge.
Naomi’s belly struck the rail.
Below, limp from the attack, Burman fell headlong. Her skull cracked into the plowed pavement and snapped her neck sideways. As her body sprawled, it went into convulsion. She still lived, but not for long.
Naomi turned away and stumbled back into the room.
Chiara knelt next to Tag.
In the distance, sirens blared, no doubt racing here.
“Aiutatemi!” Chiara snapped to Antonio.
Naomi didn’t understand.
Chiara twisted to her. “He still has a heartbeat.”
54
10:45 a.m.
What do we do now?” Sharyn asked, fighting down panic.
The sweep of the helicopters had grown deafening, even down this deep. It was loud enough to rattle the skeletal bedframes in the room. Then a huge gust of wind blew from the stairwell, carrying with it a trace of snowy powder.
