Kim Oh 3: Real Dangerous People (The Kim Oh Thrillers) Read Free Page A

said Heinz. “Long as you’ve got us covered.”
     
    “Give me your gun.”
     
    Heinz handed over his weapon. Curt bent farther down and sighted along the restaurant’s floor toward the bar – there was a narrow but open line through the chairs and other tables. He set Heinz’s gun down flat on the floor, pulled his arm back, then sent the gun spinning across the room. The gun hit the bottom of the bar, close to the corner. Elton cautiously reached around and picked up the gun. Now he had a weapon in each hand.
     
    Behind the bar, Elton looked toward Foley crouching down at its other end. “You wanna do this? Or do you want me to?”
     
    Foley shrugged. “Why don’t you go ahead? You’re a lot younger. And my back’s been killing me lately.”
     
    “You got it, grandpa. Ready?”
     
    “Roll it out –”
     
    That was all they had to say to each other.
     
    Foley stood up behind the bar and started firing into the unlit doorway of the kitchen. At the same time, Elton launched himself head-first into the middle of the chairs and tables, firing with both guns as he dove to the floor. The attacker got off a pair of wild shots, but was driven back by the bodyguards’ coordinated fire.
     
    Behind the overturned table, Curt shoved against Heinz’s shoulders. “Go!”
     
    Hunched over, Heinz sprinted from the table’s shield and toward the restaurant exit. A shot from the kitchen splintered the wall near his shoulder, but he made it to the doorway and out of the attacker’s line of fire.
     
    Back in the center of the restaurant, Elton landed on his side, left leg tangled in one of the chairs. Still laying down a cover of gunshots, Foley ran out from behind the bar, reached down with his free hand, and grabbed Elton’s arm, pulling him up to his feet. One behind the other, both men pressed their spines close to the wall, a few feet from the edge of the kitchen doorway.
     
    A tense silence – the kind you get when there’s been a lot of gunfire in a few seconds – filled the restaurant. At one side, Foley and Elton quickly reloaded their guns. From behind the overturned table, Curt couldn’t see them; he had no way of knowing if they had made it past the shots from the kitchen doorway. Crouching down behind Earl and Falcon, he listened for a signal. It finally came – when Foley finished reloading, he loudly rapped three times on the wall behind him.
     
    That was the cue for all the bodyguards to get ready. Lifting himself a bit from where he knelt, Earl got a grip on the table’s top and bottom edges. Curt wrapped an arm around Falcon’s shoulders. With his free hand, he rapped with his knuckles on the floor. Once . . . twice . . .
     
    Three. The crew erupted into action. Foley and Elton pushed themselves away from the side wall and began pouring gunfire into the kitchen doorway. At the same time, Earl lunged forward with the table shield, using it as a battering ram, scattering the chairs and other tables in front of it as he charged toward the kitchen.
     
    Covered by Foley and Elton’s gunfire, plus Earl’s rushing forward with the overturned table, Curt pulled Falcon to his feet. He raced with the other man, both hunched over, toward the restaurant entrance.
     
    Curt shoved his boss to safety in front of himself, then turned and saw Foley and Elton still out in the open, firing into the darkened kitchen. Below their line of fire, Earl had gotten the table shield within a couple of feet of the kitchen doorway. He crouched behind it, leaning out to the side and getting off a few more shots.
     
    From the restaurant doorway, Curt could see that there were no flashes of answering gunfire from inside the kitchen. He shouted to the others: “Hold it! Hold it  –”
     
    The other bodyguards looked over their shoulders at him. They stopped firing and lowered their weapons.
     
    Curt looked around, intently listening. Gunfire could still be heard, but not inside the restaurant. The