"Show me," Parker gasped.

Halfway to the .45. Two thirds of the way.

Hang on long enough.

More jeering.

"I'll let you wear yourself out first. I want you to see it coming."

Fuck him.

Pain was a good thing. Oh, yes. As good as rage. I wedged my legs under me, lunged into a dive.

Landed hard.

Rolled.

Came up onto my knees with the .45 in both fists.

Their struggle had taken Neill and Sternway over by one of the catwalk ladders. They were too far away. And too close together. Parker fought with his back to the wall now, defending frantically while Sternway inundated him with blows.

I raised the .45 to fire a shot over their heads.

Except I couldn't. My fingers didn't work right. Sternway must've hurt a nerve in my wrist. I couldn't pull the trigger.

Awkwardly I shifted the .45 to my left. It felt like a club, inert and too heavy to lift. I'd never be able to aim this way.

I didn't need to aim.

The concussion nearly knocked me off balance. For an instant the storm and the fight fell silent, deafened by the blast. Then I heard the slug ricochet off concrete and spang into one of the catwalks.

Involuntarily Parker turned his head to look at me and Sternway hit him in the solar plexus with a two-knuckled punch that dropped him like a sack of discarded clothes.

Sonofafoztcfa!

I staggered to my feet, stood wavering with the .45 stretched out in front of me.

"That's enough," I panted.

"Don't move." When had my voice become so weak?

"Don't even think about moving." I started toward him, lock-kneed and rigid, one step at a time.

"You've already done too much harm. You won't do any more."

Had anyone heard the shot? Even that demanding sound might not penetrate the walls and the storm.

But if it did More cannon fodder for the IAMA director.

Shadows hid his expression. He glanced at Sue Rasmussen's huddled body, then looked back at me.

"Do it, Axbrewder." He sounded like butchery.

"Shoot me. If you don't, I'll tear your heart out through your ass."

Parker didn't move.

"Fuck you." Some chances I had to take.

I fired on the move, lurching through the recoil. I didn't expect to hit him. All I wanted was to make him remain still until I got closer.

Entirely by chance, my shot spalled a cinder block three feet from his head before it angled away, whining like a drill in granite.

I saw outrage seize his face again, the recognition that he was trapped. I was willing to shoot him after all. And I must have a few rounds left. If he let me get close enough, he was finished. He couldn't fight a bullet.

And no one else would get hurt.

Snarling, he turned and jumped for the ladder.

I tried to hurry after him, but he was faster. By the time I'd covered enough distance to aim the .45 adequately, he'd already scrambled up to the second floor catwalk. There metal bars and railings protected him.

He was out of my reach before he started up the next ladder to the top floor.

Damn him. Damn him inside out and backward. I wanted him, but I'd never get him now. He still had his key, he could let himself into all four sides of the building. I'd have to try to intercept him before he gained an exit.

If he doubled back while I hunted him, I'd never stop him.

And if he didn't, if he entered one of the schools and headed for the front door, he'd find innocent people in his way. Hideo's students.

Hong's. Soon's. I couldn't tell myself that they'd all gone home by now. And Komatori and T'ang lived here. So did Soon.

And if Sternway chose the unoccupied side, he'd encounter one of Soon's black belts. Or Soon himself.

More innocent people. More death.

It was too much. I couldn't let it pass.

Coughing to clear my throat, I shouted, "Anson!"

The rattle of his feet on the ladder stopped. I didn't hear him clang along the catwalk.

"Ansonl" I had to cough some more. Fortunately I didn't hack up blood.

My kidneys hadn't been damaged as badly as I'd feared.

He didn't answer but he didn't move either. Maybe he didn't like his chances inside any of the dojos. If nothing else, someone would see him running away "You beat Parker!" Parker still hadn't moved. From my angle, he hardly seemed to breathe.

"I saw that. But you can't take me!"

Sternway didn't answer.

Desperately I tossed the .45 so that it skittered across the floor into the white scowl of the flood lamps Where he could see it.