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to him, his back arched to try to take the weight of his body off his neck.
    I was in a semi crouched position, so I could carry his weight. I could feel the body armor he was wearing, disguised as an undershirt.
    I concentrated on looking where we were going, toward the Russians shouting in the foyer and the suddenly silent Japanese. Nothing else mattered.
    Four or five more seconds had elapsed and the people inside the hotel could not only see what had happened, but had had time for it to sink in. It takes a while for a brain not used to processing this sort of information to say, Yep, that's right, there are two dead men on the floor and others with submachine guns shouting and running around the foyer. Then, once one person starts becoming hysterical, they all do.
    I turned into the foyer, heading for the exit. Nightmare came into view by the main doors, doing his stuff to one of the BGs, shouting and screaming in Russian and kicking his hands away from his body.
    I was sixty-odd feet away from them.
    The Japanese followed everyone else's example, running for cover and hiding behind the sofas, dragging their loved ones with them. That was great: The more they panicked the less they saw.
    A two-tone alarm started to drown out the screams and I moved as fast as I could.
    Nightmare was there, checking my back as he covered the BG. Gripping tight, I pulled Val along. He snorted like a horse, fighting for breath.
    Through the windows, the blaze of headlights from the three Meres lit Sergei's 4x4, which had the tailgate open, waiting for me and Val.
    Beyond the Meres' roofs, I could see Jesse and Frank, AK butts unfolded and in the shoulder, muzzles pointing at the ground. Val's three drivers had already been dragged out of their seats and were face down on the pavement.
    Carpenter was to the left of the convoy. He, too, had his weapon pointing down. He must have been covering the other BG. All three were blowing out steam like kettles.
    Sergei would be in the wagon, waiting for me to get out of this lunatic asylum.
    With thirty feet to go, World War Three broke out. I heard a series of short bursts from a 9mm, the muzzle flashes bouncing off the windows like flashbulbs. It was Carpenter, giving the BG the best part of a mag. Then the shots were drowned out by the screaming in the foyer. It was like the sinking of the Titanic.
    I couldn't believe it. More muzzle flashes lit up the darkness outside, the heavier 7.62 reports from Jesse and Frank echoing through the building. The drivers must have gone for their weapons, thinking they were next. Nightmare was frozen to the spot, shaking with fear as he stood over the last BG. He stared at me, waiting for direction.
    I flicked a look at the BG. His eyes were switched on and waiting for a chance to get away from this gang fuck There was nothing I could do for Nightmare, who was starting to stress big time. He would have to sort it out himself.
    There was no way I was going out the front door with a firefight in progress, especially as I didn't know the result. Turning back toward the hallway, I moved Val as quickly as I could, nearly falling over the doorman and a bellboy, who were down on the floor in the open, too paralyzed with fear to move.
    I got back to the corner of the hallway. The man was still sobbing over his wife in the elevator. Her legs, in flesh-colored stockings and sensible shoes, protruded into the hallway as the doors opened and closed against them.
    The woman was still there, well in control of herself. She just stood, watching, not even bothering to wipe the dropped BG's blood and membrane off her face.
    There was more hysteria as rounds starred the safety glass around the entrance. The BG had obviously seized his chance and got to his feet, firing as he went for freedom. Nightmare took the burst into his unprotected trunk and crumpled on top of two Japanese tourists, who stayed where they were, too shocked to move.
    The BG started toward me, mini-Uzi in his