The Protector (2003) by David Morrell Read Free Book Online

of the warehouse. But then he realized that even if part of the assault team hadn't had time to reach that side, a few marksmen could be watching from upper windows, ready to fire through the broken glass.
    We wouldn't have a chance, he thought. Rain gusted through the opening. Gray light beckoned. A tugboat's horn blared from the river. So close. Again Cavanaugh imagined the gunmen bursting into the warehouse, scattering its ragged occupants, hunting for . . .
    Scattering?
    "Prescott, follow me back to where we were."
    "But aren't we leaving?"
    "When I tell you." Cavanaugh led Prescott into the middle of the area.
    He faced the ragged men. "I've got a job for everybody."
    They looked baffled. A few even looked as frightened of the word job as they were of the pistol in his hand.
    Thunder rumbled.
    "Your first step on the road to self-sufficiency."
    They looked more baffled.
    "It requires no skills, and if everything goes as planned, I'll send a truck here tomorrow with food and clothes for all of you. You can't ask for a better deal than that."
    They looked at Cavanaugh as if he spoke an incomprehensible language.
    "So what do you think? Are you ready to start working?"
    They kept staring.
    "Great," Cavanaugh said. "Now this is all you have to do. You see that opening over there? It leads toward other warehouses and then the river. What I want you to do is ... Prescott."
    "What?"
    "Put your hands over your ears."
    No questions this time. Prescott obeyed.
    "What I want everybody to do," Cavanaugh told the group, "is keep thinking of the food and clothes you'll get tomorrow and"--Cavanaugh raised his pistol--"run in that direction."
    They stared blankly.
    "Run!"
    When they didn't move, he fired the pistol over their heads. In the shadows, the muzzle flash was vivid, the ear-torturing roar making the group stumble back.
    " Run !" Cavanaugh's own ears were punished as he fired twice more above their heads, and now terror made them move a little faster, desperate to get away from the madman with the gun.
    The next time Cavanaugh fired over their heads did the trick. They broke into a full-sized panic and scrambled toward the exit. Bumping into one another, they charged out into the rain.

    Chapter 10.
    "Follow them!" Cavanaugh told Prescott.
    To increase momentum, Cavanaugh fired one last time, so terrifying the group that, unheeding, they charged through the storm. There must have been thirty of them at least, scurrying for whatever shelter they could find. He urged Prescott to keep running with them. Hoping that the chaos would distract the assault team enough to make them hold fire, he felt the cold rain drench him as he and Prescott rushed down a concrete ramp and across a garbage-strewn parking area.
    Scarecrows ran everywhere around them. Ahead, some ducked through a gap in a chain-link fence. Splashing through puddles, Cavanaugh led Prescott toward the hole. He put his hand on Prescott's head, protecting it as he shoved him through. Ducking after him, he felt frozen by more than the rain because, with just a few derelicts around them now, he and Prescott were obvious targets. The only things in their favor were the distance and the difficulty of aiming at moving targets from an elevated position.
    Blam!
    A shot from behind them tore up pavement. "Prescott, that warehouse ahead!"
    Blam!
    More pavement disintegrated. "Almost there, Prescott!"
    Blam!
    A chunk of pavement zapped past Cavanaugh's forehead. "Move it, Prescott!"
    Cavanaugh couldn't allow himself to run as fast as he was able. He had to match Prescott's pace, shouting encouragement, grabbing Prescott's arm when the heavy man seemed in danger of faltering. Even so, Cavanaugh's lungs burned from exertion as they rounded the warehouse corner.
    Shielded by the wall, Prescott bent over and shuddered, gulping air. "We did it," he managed to say. "I can't believe we--"
    "Keep moving."
    "But I have to catch my--"
    "No time. Let's go." Cavanaugh tugged Prescott.
    He studied