“Fuck!” she said.

Olaf followed her into the secure area, adrenaline coursing through his body. To the right, the two uniforms who were meant to apprehend the suspect lay on the ground. Their lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling, blood flowing from multiple chest wounds.

In a vast, echoing space like this, they should have heard the gunshots from a distance. The suspect had brought a silencer. Smart move. Shooting someone in a public place with a silencer made for a quick escape in the middle of the pandemonium.

Mayer knelt beside the dead men, her fingers searching for a pulse. “We have two officers down,” she said into the radio. “I repeat: two officers down, send medics. The target is armed and still at large.”

“Copy that. Detective Mayer, you’re ordered to wait for—”

Mayer shut down the radio as she stood up. “That piece of shit is going to pay.”

“Better wait for the tactical,” Olaf said. “If the guy has a silencer, who knows what he’s capable of?”

Mayer approached him, looked him straight in the eye. “Detective Bauer, I’m going after this bastard right now and there’s nothing you can do to stop me. The only question is whether you’re tagging along.”

At that very moment, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He didn’t need to check the screen to know it was Tina. She was poised to call him until he went there or until the phone’s battery died. Leaving the operation prematurely had never been an option, and leaving Mayer to chase the target alone was neither.

“Take the lead,” he said.

They made for the opposite side of the area, where a door lay half open, the guard’s keys still dangling from the lock. Peeking around it with caution, they swung it open and advanced to the next section.

The Pergamon Altar materialized before them, an impressive construction with a history spanning over two millennia. It was a massive structure made of marble, featuring a majestic stairway that led to the temple area. Beneath the dimmed lighting, the array of columns on the upper part was an ideal point for a gunman.

Olaf extended his arm, preventing her from moving further. “We can’t go out there; we’ll be sitting ducks.”

“Have a better plan?”

The museum building was designed in the shape of the Greek letter pi, featuring two parallel rectangular wings and a third connecting them at the top. Positioned at the midpoint of the upper wing, they had to choose between clearing the left or the right wing first. That way they could ascend to the first floor, landing straight at the Altar temple. Even that, was ugly and risky.

“Honestly? We step outside and wait for the tactical team.”

“That’s not gonna cut it for me,” Mayer said. “I’m heading left, aiming to catch our target by surprise. If you clear the right branch, we’ll sandwich him.”

“It’s damn stupid to split up right now.”

“Then stay here and wait for the tactical to arrive.”

Without waiting for his response, she opened the door on the left wall and vanished behind it.

Damn it, Anna Mayer.

Bending down and moving as close to the wall as possible, Olaf passed through the door on his right.

The next area contained what appeared to be an intricate ancient market gate. He didn’t know the structure’s history, and at that moment, he couldn’t care less about it. The building overhead had a loft, but the entire construction seemed so fragile that he dismissed the idea of the suspect hiding up there.

Quickening his pace, he hastened across the floor and passed under the arched passage, leading deeper into the museum.

Merely two steps inside the next area, two bullets ricocheted off the wall near him. Entering the room, he took cover behind another massive structure. He put off his leather jacket and extended his arm, using it as a decoy. No more bullets came his way.

Peeking around the corner, the room seemed to be vacant. He noticed that the door leading to the next passageway was shut, while a staircase offered access to the upper floor.

He wore his jacket and made for the staircase. Glancing over his shoulder upon reaching it, he saw the famous Ishtar Gate, one of the towering gates of Babylon. As its vibrant blue bricks glistened in the dark, he couldn’t help but regret not visiting the damn museum before. Knowing the layout could’ve been real handy.

The upper floor featured a glass ceiling that allowed moonlight to bathe the exhibits. Olaf caught a glimpse of the suspect just as he opened the door on the opposite side of the room. “Stay right where you are!” he shouted, aiming his flashlight directly at the figure.

As the suspect turned, Olaf got a clear view of the guy, who didn’t seem a day over twenty. The pale face beneath the hoodie stared at him for a brief second, before raising his gun.

Olaf took cover behind a display case filled with jewelry and personal ornaments.

Thundering shots were fired, shattering the glass behind him. The man had removed the silencer, hoping to maximize precision and impact.

He carried what Olaf suspected to be a 9mm. Most likely a Glock or a Sig Sauer, though it was impossible to tell from their current distance. Considering the rounds fired that had killed the uniforms, and those against the Babylon Gate, Olaf estimated that the man had between three and five bullets left. Assuming of course that the wacko wasn’t carrying additional magazines with him.

As the gunshots ceased, Olaf rolled along the floor, his gun trained toward the spot where the man had been standing. The target had vanished, and the door was left ajar.

Olaf got back to his feet and hurried toward it.

He hastened his stride inside the next room, as it only displayed tapestries and carpets adorning the walls. Holding both his flashlight and gun, he crossed his arms to maintain a steady aim.

Proceeding to the opposite end of the room, he leaned against the wall. He didn’t need to peek around the arched frame to discern that the Altar was situated on the other side of the wall, its soft, dimmed lighting penetrating the room.

Olaf weighed his options. The Altar featured several columns that weren’t wide enough to hide behind them, but their dense arrangement offered good cover. With a head start, the man was now well-positioned for an open confrontation. Olaf had three choices: charge into the Altar, counting on the guy having poor shooting skills, wait for Mayer’s signal, or wait for backup to arrive.

He silently cursed Mayer for being unreachable. Brick phone or not, the situation would have been more manageable if they could exchange intelligence, and make a damn plan together.

A deafening scream pierced through the hall, its echo resonating in his ears.

Mayer.

Without hesitation, Olaf leaped into the Altar area, surprised that not a single bullet flew his way.

Taking cover behind a column, he positioned himself to expose as little of his body as possible. He detected movement at the top of the staircase and slid along the column to get a better view.

In the center of the Altar, precisely where an ancient civilization had once offered sacrifices to their gods, stood the suspect and Mayer.

Chapter 3

THE MAN HAD TAKEN MAYER HOSTAGE, tied her hands behind her back, and held a large knife close to her throat.

His gaze was fixed on Olaf. “Put your gun down, or she dies.”

“Let her go,” Olaf said, taking another step forward.

“Put the fucking gun down!”

The man must have increased the pressure on the knife, because a trickle of blood began running down Mayer’s neck.

“Alright,” Olaf said, lowering his weapon.