Minchev shouted to him now. “The American was last seen on the southern stairs at the second floor.”
Just then, another pair of gunshots came through Charlie’s earpiece, as fast as the last salvo.
Minchev said, “Shit! Someone is shooting.” Into the phone he said, “Videv? Videv?”
Charlie ran through the living room to the front door of the suite, and he’d just made it to the glass-and-aluminum coffee table in front of the sofa when the lights went out.
Behind him, Minchev gasped.
The outside glow through the window helped Charlie negotiate his way around the coffee table to the door. Opening it, he then pulled a flashlight out of his pocket and wiped his perspiring face with the back of the suit coat of his left arm, keeping his Walther pointed at the door to the south-side stairs with his right.
He did not turn on the flashlight; he didn’t want to give away his position.
Minchev stepped up behind him. In a whisper that was still way too loud given the circumstances, he said, “Videv isn’t responding. It’s just one man. Kill this guy, Coyle!”
Charlie whispered back, fighting to keep his voice down considering the tidal waves of adrenaline coursing through him. “Say another feckin’ word and you can deal with ’im on your own.”
Minchev went silent, and Charlie heard his employer’s footsteps retreat back through the living room of the suite.
And then Charlie stood there, looking into the dark, trying to control his breathing because he was as scared as he’d ever been in his life.
The good news was he had some intelligence now. He was still only facing one enemy; his pistol was steady and aimed at where he’d been told the target would be coming from. Also, he had excellent concealment behind the door and the wall of the suite, as only a small portion of his body was exposed to the hall.
The bad news was the fact that concealment, while good, was in no way a substitute for cover.
An enemy could not shoot through cover, but an enemycouldshoot through concealment.
He heard the stairwell door creak open slowly, just ten yards away from him on the right. Charlie could barely make out the movement, but he lowered to a knee quickly, making himself a smaller target.
A figure appeared.
Charlie clicked on his flashlight, his finger on the trigger of his weapon with enough pressure to take the few millimeters of slack out of it. He just needed to apply a little more force to fire a gunshot.
But the light confirmed it was Pulev, so he relaxed his finger slightly.
And then Pulev’s weapon turned towards Charlie.
The Northern Irishman turned off his light as he shouted Pulev’s name, along with a few bits of Bulgarian he’d been taught for just such a situation. “Pulev! Ne strelyai! Si Coyle!”Pulev! Don’t shoot! It’s Coyle!
Pulev got the message, apparently, because he did not fire, but then the passenger elevator door opened, just across the hall to Charlie’s left.
Videv had told him hotel security was on the way up, but he didn’t know if Pulev knew this, so he shouted again. “Ne strelyai!”Don’t shoot.
This time, however, Pulev didn’t listen. He fired three times with his Glock; the flashes illuminated the hall, revealing a man stepping out of the elevator, twisting, and then falling facedown.
Pulev shouted something Charlie didn’t understand, and then the Bulgarian shined his own flashlight on the motionless figure crumpled on the carpet.
Charlie recognized the victim immediately. It was the head of security for the beach resort. He’d only met him briefly that afternoon, and he didn’t even know his name.
“Fecking hell,” he muttered to himself.
Pulev himself muttered something that sounded like a curse, but then a two-round burst of pistol fire, flashing in the hallway from the left, dropped Pulev to his knees.
Charlie launched backwards into the suite, out of the line of fire. He landed in front of the glass coffee table, rolled onto his back, and looked up in time to see another flash of light right in front of the door as Pulev himself fired a round off in response to the person shooting at him. But then Pulev recoiled, his pistol dropped from his hand, and his flashlight went dark.
The thud of a body dropping in the hall told Charlie that his teammate was down.
Charlie rose, stepping around and then just behind the coffee table to create more distance between himself and the door to the hall, his weapon still high in front of him, searching for a target there.
