The Whole Truth (A. Shaw 1)

Adolph drew a hacksaw and a small ax from his rucksack as Victor spun a suppressor onto the end of the pistol.

Shaw said, “You must be the only two left.”

“I can always get more men,” Adolph said. “For every one I lose, I can get five to replace them.”

“The French really need to do something about their unemployment.”

Adolph lifted the ax up. “Are you a Jew?”

Shaw eyed the tool. “Why, would you cut me up kosher?”

“I want to know why you set me up. I want to know this before you die. It will be good to cleanse your soul. Confess to me. Confess to Papa Adolph.”

“I tell you what. I’ll give you one chance to get out of here. Only one. Then all bets are off.”

Adolph looked at Victor and laughed. “We have weapons and you have nothing. So that must mean you are full of bullshit.” He brandished the saw and smiled maliciously. “If you are full of shit, I will certainly find out.”

Shaw pressed a button near the lock on his suitcase. A second later an earsplitting siren erupted all around them.

Startled, Adolph and Victor glanced toward the window, no doubt thinking the police were coming.

In the next instant Shaw was charging directly at the pair, his suitcase held out in front of him. Victor took aim and fired at the suitcase, thinking it would easily rip through the cloth and hit Shaw in the head. He thought wrong.

The bullets did hit the suitcase but bounced off the super-strong composite lining and embedded in the ceiling. The impact of the shots staggered Shaw but he managed to keep his forward momentum. When he hit Victor the collision was so violent it ripped the gun from the man’s hand and also tore off the skinhead’s trigger finger.

Victor screamed in pain as he clutched the bloody stump. He stopped screaming when Shaw’s suitcase smashing against his head sent him flying over a small couch.

Before Shaw could turn to face Adolph the man slashed his left arm deeply with the hacksaw. As he staggered back Adolph raised the ax but Shaw managed to kick his legs out from under him. Adolph went down hard, the ax slipping from his hand. He slid across the floor toward it, grabbed the weapon, and hurled it at Shaw. Fortunately the handle rather than the blade slammed into Shaw’s thigh, but it still hurt like hell.

He didn’t feel his phone vibrating once more in his pocket because Adolph was coming at him with the hacksaw and Victor, half his face a busted-up, bloody mess, had risen shakily to his feet looking for his gun.

Shaw launched himself at Adolph and drove his shoulder right into the man’s gut, propelling them both onto the bed and over it, where they landed hard on the floor, Shaw on top. Adolph grabbed Shaw’s face, gouging at his eyes. Partially blinded, winded badly, and his wounded arm and leg throbbing, Shaw still managed to lever his arm against Adolph’s windpipe. But when he tried to press down to finish him, his normal strength simply wasn’t there. He glanced at his arm. The blood was pouring out thick and fast.

Shit! The blade must have hit an artery. He felt his fingers growing numb.

He pushed away from Adolph and managed to stand up on legs that unfortunately were starting to fail. As he turned looking for some way out, he froze.

Victor was pointing his gun right at Shaw’s head, his middle finger on the trigger.

The skinhead’s malevolent grin was apparently going to be Shaw’s last conscious memory. What a shitty way to go.

The door crashed open and Frank and six of his men burst in. Frank immediately sized up the situation and fired two shots. Both hit Victor in the head and he dropped to the floor.

With a scream Adolph jumped on Shaw, his hands around his throat.

“Damn it, get him,” yelled Frank, and four of his men raced to Adolph and tore him off the badly wounded man.

“Get that piece of crap out of h

ere,” ordered Frank, and Adolph was hustled from the room.

When Frank turned back to Shaw the big man’s face was chalk white and a moment later he slumped to the floor.

“Shaw!” Frank raced across the room and knelt next to him.

“Get the EMTs up here now!” Frank roared.

Frank cradled Shaw’s head with his hand. “Shaw? Can you hear me? Shaw!”