He walked out of the room and through the remainder of the mall to the parking garage below. There was the whir of an engine as the KGB started her car and drove off. Why had she left in such a hurry? He immediately remembered what day it was! July 12th! He had to be there soon! He didn't want to know what the woman would do once she made it to the hospital and he hadn't.
He found a small, gray car made by Dongfeng Motors. He smashed the glass with his elbow on the driver's side door, unlocking it for himself. He then opened the door, letting himself in. Once in, he fiddled with the wiring, eventually putting two wires together. Much to surprise, the car whirred, coughed really, to life. He left the parking garage in faster than a jet trying to make up for lost flight time.
Soon, he was parking his car in the Zhongshan Hospital's parking lot. He got out and tried to run as fast as his legs would carry him. He passed through the lobby somehow unnoticed and found a flight of stairs. As he climbed, he did his best to not scream in pain at the hastily closed stomach wound. He moved faster as he thought of what would happen to Sylvie and the baby if he didn't hurry.
As he reached the top of the stairs and pushed the door open, he looked around. Where was the woman? He checked for the marked room where his wife would be, 200C on the third floor. He heard a gunshot! He limped for a brief time down the hallway and found the room, as quickly as he could get there.
He entered, to find a scene from his nightmares. The assassin had her gun in hand. He briefly noted Sylvie's body. The eyes were closed as blood splatters from her chest's exit wounds covered the wall behind her. It was clear upon looking. He watched as the assassin leveled her gun to the baby's head.
NO! You will not do this! Everything else I had has been taken! Brezhnev screamed in his mind.
He fired three shots, one into the woman's stomach, one into her chest, and one into her back. Blood flew as the bullets hit their marks, leaving gaping exit holes. The pistol he had fired was newly hot. The woman screamed in pain, then fell to the floor with a thud that sickened even Brezhnev.
He looked down, reading the first nametag. It read Mikael Brezhnev.
He smiled and reached his finger down. The baby had stopped crying, reaching to grasp the outstretched finger and smiling widely.
"Do not worry, son," Brezhnev said. "We will get you far away. From other assassins, from violence of Russia. The KGB will not find you. For if they do, I will stop them. They will not lay hand on you. I love you, son."
Brezhnev leaned down. He kissed his son on the forehead. He made farting noises with his mouth and the baby giggled. Tears came down his cheek as he played with the child.