Steve felt the familiar anxiety return that had been haunting his senses since the beginning of this case. As he pulled into the deserted one-way street housing both condemned apartment buildings adjacent to each other, his fingers clenched the steering wheel in a death grip.
Mike's idea of playing tortoise and hare had seemed like the way to go, and albeit he trusted his best friend's intuition unconditionally; Steve couldn't shake the feeling that the plan would be a lot easier said than done.
Having Tahoola with them in the backseat only furthered their problem.
"Pull into the far right one, Buddy Boy."
Mike's voice had grown tense, the strong hand on his shoulder grasping it tightly. Steve could hear his partner draw in a deep breath, as if to mentally prepare himself for the upcoming situation. But truth be told, nothing could prepare them.
Cursing himself once again for the spotty memory of his last encounter with their frighteningly talented hitman, Steve glanced in the rearview mirror, ensuring that the firebird was still tailing them. When he saw the cream-colored grill stick out from behind the street corner, waiting and seeing what they would do, he quickly swung the Galaxy past several fire department barricades into the partially blocked underground garage.
Turning on the headlights to find his way in darkened structure, Steve felt Mike's hand move, his fingers tapping him on his right arm.
"Pull over behind that concrete wall. Then turn off the lights."
Steve nodded briefly, then navigated the large sedan through a debris field of concrete chunks and rebar wire, before carefully sliding it behind a back corner with a support wall close by. It would give them the perfect hideout with just a single access point from all angles.
"Alright, let's get in position. Tahoola, stay in here, remember what I said.", the Lieutenant urged, as both detectives left the safety of the police car to position themselves in preparation for the killer's arrival.
Steve reached for his left side to unholster the .38 and jogged ahead, surveying the garage for any appropriate hiding spots. He quickly found a pile of rubble next to an old elevator shaft and crouched down, keeping a close eye on the entrance to the parking garage.
Behind him, Mike leaned up against a rusty metal beam, his service revolver drawn and resting against his chest, as they waited.
And waited.
Finally, the engine of an approaching car could be heard, then the squeaking of breaks, before the noise died down again.
Steve stayed in his squatted position and glanced over at Mike briefly, only to watch the Lieutenant nod at him reassuringly. As footsteps could be heard entering the underground garage, he curled his index finger over the trigger of his revolver, ready to fire if need be.
Their intense focus was disrupted by the slamming of a car door behind them.
Steve flinched and looked past Mike, only to see Tahoola exiting the confines of the Galaxy and dodging through several piles of rubble to get deeper into the parking garage.
Cursing under his breath, he was torn between chasing after the Puerto Rican, or waiting for their hitman to react. In the end, the heavy gunfire erupting from the cream-colored firebird made his decision considerably easier.
Steve went all the way down on his knees, curling up and shielding his head when several well-placed rounds towards the rubble in front and above him covered his corner in dust and debris. Next to him, he could hear Mike fire off multiple shots, but neither one stopped their hitman.
As the dust cleared, Steve once again positioned himself behind his pile, ready to shoot in the direction of the firebird, when half a dozen machine gun slugs sailed past him toward their fleeing witness, three of them hitting Tahoola in the back as he tried to run for cover. Even from afar, Steve knew the Puerto Rican was dead before he ever hit the ground.
Using the gunman's change of target to his advantage, Steve peeked out from behind his hideout and fired four shots; two of them in the direction of the firebird, the other two trying to hit the man in the black overcoat holding them at gunpoint, but missing him both times.
Much to his relief, he heard the high-pitched noise of air escaping the car tires.
So much for a speedy getaway.
"Steve, watch out!", came Mike's alarmed warning and he glanced up in time to see their shooter move positions off to the left, this way giving him a direct line of fire toward his hideout.
Pinned against the corner of the rubble and elevator shaft, Steve knew he had to get moving fast. Hightailing it out from beneath his hiding spot, the young Inspector fired his last two rounds in the assailant's direction, hearing the bullets hit the thick metal beams before ricocheting off into the rest of the building. Deciding to bridge the distance to the concrete wall where the Galaxy still sat parked, he leaped several feet past Mike's hideout, before hitting the ground and rolling until he felt the front grill of the tan sedan touch his elbow.
More gunfire erupted, echoing through the empty halls like a never-ending nightmare. Steve had long lost count of how many rounds had been fired into their direction.
Despite knowing that they were painfully out-numbered against the power of the machine gun, he reached for his belt and retrieved the last six bullets. With his hands shaking violently as he tried to reload his revolver, Steve never even realized that the gunfire had ceased, until he heard footsteps moving away from their position at a hasty pace.
"Are you alright?!"
Mike was suddenly kneeling next to him, his trained hands frantically running across his body looking for gunshot wounds, before Steve even had a chance to answer.
"I am fine. What about you?"
"I am alright."
As he looked up, he saw pure terror in Mike's blue eyes. Offering his outstretched hand to help him back on his feet, the Lieutenant motioned for the exit of the parking garage, before pressing himself against the concrete wall.
"He's fleeing on foot."
"How many bullets you got left?", Steve asked out of breath, staying shoulder to shoulder with his partner.
"Two. That's after I reloaded."
Noting the bitter undertone in Mike's voice, Steve quickly finished reloading his revolver and followed the Lieutenant around the corner of the concrete wall, not surprised to see the area deserted.
Tahoola's body was sprawled out a few dozen feet away in the other direction, a large puddle of blood forming below his chest. Swallowing hard, Steve glanced over to the cream-colored firebird that remained at the crime scene like a war time relic.
Mike wasted no time working his way through the endless array of metal beams to reach the exit, Steve stayed a few feet behind.
By the time they reached Laguna Street again, nothing but a large pile of spent machine gun shells was left to bear witness of what had just happened.