The Office Job: Chapter 19: Office Ordinance
The Galil, an Israeli adaptation of a Finnish rifle based on the Polish version of the Russian AK—
The flesh toned room was primarily a storage for excess old office chairs and file cabinets. Lindsey had cleared it and settled down in the corner of a far office, watching the door.
“Theresa, can you hear me?” EP said.
Lindsey reached in the bag for her Galil ACE and found the grip. If they had lost connection, EP might have been trying to warn her for the past ten minutes and she wouldn’t have heard. They could be right on top of her.
“Oh good, it’s like you’re in a bunker down there, I had to boost it off—”
“Are they cleared out?” She had been waiting for the workers to clear out before setting it up. With Michaels collateral restrictions and the two god damned cowboys, it was like running an Op with her hands tied.
“Yea, targets on the tenth floor—”
Lindsey was heading for the door before EP finished her sentence.
“—But they tried to call the guys you killed. You’ve got two heading down.”
“I’m not set up!”
“Can’t you deal with them?”
“Yea, and they’ll send the rest of them after me!” Lindsey couldn’t believe she had to explain this. She only had one option left.
“I need to blow the stairs before they move him out!”
“With my last fucking breath!”
EP got the idea.
“Wait! I think I can draw the other two out of the stairs. Malachi, can you hit the lobby?”
There was a pause. Lindsey didn’t waste any time and got the door open.
“Yea, fine. Give me a sec.” He said.
Lindsey shut the door as quietly as she could, white knuckling the handle. She promised herself this would be the last time she ever waited on Philip.
Would that really work?
Philip was parked in the front lot under the gentle shade of a live oak. Gunfire snapped out of one of the upper stories, police sirens echoed in the distance and screams popped out at odd intervals like birdsong. Most of the employees had evacuated out the back entrance and fled across the street on foot leaving their cars in the front lot. Maybe he could stay unnoticed until the target got farther down the stairwell. EP had other plans.
“Yea, fine. Give me a sec.” He told her and started the car.
Bet she’s glad she got him off that bridge now. He drove down the back row under a line of oaks and glanced at the front of the building. There were three armed men standing guard at the tops of the steps. Briefly, through the glass front of the lobby, he saw at least five guards around the reception desk and more standing on the upper loft. The front entrance was recessed about twenty feet from the face of the building, forming a U shape of glass walls. He wouldn’t be able to lob a grenade into the lobby unless he was facing it dead on, and opening up on the door guards wasn’t going to be enough to draw anybody out of the stairwell. He needed something loud and ballsy. He pulled an old trick out of his book and saw ghosts smiling in the rear view.
He drove down the lot and turned on the row that seemed to have the most cars on it and stopped behind a tall van, out of sight of the guards. He took two wrapped grenades out of the pouch in the center console, tore off the electric tape and put them in his coat pocket. He clipped the pouch on his belt behind his back and got out. He leaned over the windshield, grabbed a wiper and threaded the blade through the ring on one of the grenades and set it down easily in the gap between the top of the hood and the windshield and took off the safety clip. He did the same to the second grenade with the other wiper blade and got back in the car. He lowered the seat and leaned it flat behind him, then brought the Rattler onto his lap and switched it to auto. It had all taken less than thirty seconds, but he half expected the guards to come around a car at any moment.
He went down the next long row parallel to the lobby then turned down the center row towards the front of the building. The seat was so low he could just barely see over the steering wheel. He put on his best scared office worker face as he creeped forward and got a good grip on the Rattler. The two guards in front of the big glass doors watched him without much interest. Something came over the radio and they put their hands to their ears and looked back at the lobby. Perfect.
He lined up with one of the concrete posts on the sidewalk and raised his Rattler at the windshield. Careful not to rev the engine, he pushed the pedal down and the speedometer climbed. He said some mantras in his mind and visualized them.
“Their bullets miss. They fall to my gunfire.”
He added another.
“They don’t shoot the fucking grenades.”
He was going over thirty when he dropped the first guard. He missed the second as bullets ripped through his windshield. The guards on the loft fired through the glass windows and rounds cracked on the engine block. In his mind, he saw the crash, saw himself get up unharmed, and replayed this vision in his head and felt everything else fall away as his body relaxed and the rifle moved on its own. In a second, the car jumped the curb and there was a crash and a moment of darkness.
The two guards on the steps tried to back up out of the way and emptied half their mags blindly before the car hit the concrete post head on. The grenades went flying, leaving their pins on the wipers. One sailed past the guards and crashed through the glass into the lobby and the other struck one of them in the shoulder at thirty mph and bounced off to the left about ten feet behind him. He stumbled backwards, tripped over the dead guard and sat down hard. The other guard realized what was rolling around.
“Shit!” He threw himself down on the right of Philip’s car, just in time.
There was a loud roar and the shrapnel took out half the glass in the lobby, the rest of the glass in the windshield and most of the windows. Cars out in the lot belched glass and tires hissed. The guard sitting down died instantly
In the lobby, someone yelled: “Grenade!” and dove behind the front desk. The guards on the ground floor ran to the elevator hallway, knowing the front desk wouldn’t stop shit, while the men on the upper loft backed away from the edge. The poor bastards in the waiting area hit the ground behind some leather chairs and glass coffee tables.
The second blast took out the glass railing on the loft and sent shrapnel through the front desk, killing the guard behind it. A guard in the waiting area died at the same time and another one running to the elevator hallway dropped screaming. In an instant a hardened base of operations became a screaming bloody mess.
Philip came to lying flat in the seat with the sound of the grenade ripping through the air. He felt like his face was on fire, and the aches from the first car crash had flared up again, but otherwise he was untouched. His Rattler was still on its strap on his chest and he was covered in glass from the windshield.
There was a boom and a roar, then more shrapnel dinked his car and he heard someone at the side of his car scream. He snatched his P226 out of its holster and aimed it at the passenger door as the guard outside made all kinds of noise getting his gun off the cement. Philip put six rounds of .357 Sig through the door and the guy dropped to the sidewalk with a dull thud.
“Did that do it, uh.” He tried to think of her code name.
“Yea that did it.” EP said in his ear. He flicked the P226 to safe and set it back in its holster, then grabbed his Rattler and set it to semi auto.
“Good, guess I can die now.” He sat up.
Movement up on the loft caught his eye. The guard fired and most of the rounds zipped through the car harmlessly, but one hit Philip in his chest plate as he took aim.
The dumb bastard was standing up on the loft with absolutely no cover and jumped backwards as Philip fired, but not fast enough. He got him four times, walking his shots from thigh to head. Then there was nothing but the sound of the fire alarm and sirens in the distance.
He reached over to get the extra magazines off the floor on the passenger side and remembered he had already put them in his chest pouches when more gunfire came from the building. He finished leaning his head onto the passenger seat and kicked open the driver’s side door. Bullets ripped into it almost instantly.
He pulled the lever to drop the passenger seat back and threw himself over it into the back seat as more rounds smacked into the car. He was obscured by the roof but that didn’t stop them from trying. He kicked open the passenger side rear door to give them something else to shoot at as he dropped the backseat down and dove into the trunk.
He rolled over trash, shoes, jackets, a blanket that smelled like death, and an old jack before he got a hold of the release handle and kicked it open. More rounds poured through the lid as he rolled out. He was in a crouch with the Rattler up and ready to rock before the shit in the trunk settled. Two guards on the loft dropped dead before they realized what was happening and the others dove for cover. He got down and reloaded with a smile on his face.
“I’m the god damn attack team.” He whispered down the barrel.
Thanks for Reading!