Persuader

pocket. It was pointed at my head.
    The electric light was harsh on it. It was highlighted. Even though I had only looked for a fraction of a second I had seen the elegant engraving on the slide. Pietro Beretta. I had seen the dew of new oil. I had seen the little red dot that is revealed when the safety is pushed to fire.
    "Put it away, Richard," I said.
    "Not while my father is there," he said.
    "Let go of him, Quinn," I said.
    "Don't shoot, Reacher," Richard said. "I'll shoot you first." By then Quinn had Beck almost all the way in front of him.
    "Don't shoot," Richard said again.
    "Put it down, Richard," I said.
    "No."
    "Put it down."
    "No." I listened carefully to his voice. He wasn't moving. He was standing still. I knew exactly where he was. I knew the angle I would have to turn through. I rehearsed it in my head.
    Turn. Fire. Pump. Turn. Fire. I could get them both within a second and a quarter. Too fast for Quinn to react. I took a breath.
    Then I pictured Richard in my mind. The silly hair, the missing ear. The long fingers. I pictured the big Brenneke slug blasting through him, crushing, bludgeoning, the immense kinetic energy blowing him apart. I couldn't do it.
    "Put it away," I said.
    "No."
    "Please."
    "No."
    "You're helping them."
    "I'm helping my dad."
    "I won't hit your dad."
    "I can't take that risk. He's my dad."
    "Elizabeth, tell him."
    "No," she said. "He's my husband." Stalemate.
    Worse than stalemate. Because there was absolutely nothing I could do. I couldn't fire on Richard. Because I wouldn't let myself. Therefore I couldn't fire on Quinn. And I couldn't say I wasn't going to fire on Quinn because then eight guys would immediately pull guns on me. I might get a few of them, but sooner or later one of them would get me.
    And I couldn't separate Quinn from Beck. No way was Quinn going to let go of Beck and walk out of the room alone with me. Stalemate.
    Plan C.
    "Put it away, Richard," I said.
    Listen.
    "No." He hadn't moved. I rehearsed it again. Turn. Fire. I took a breath. Spun and fired. A foot to Richard's right, at the window. The slug smashed through the drapes and caught the casement frame and blew it away. I ran three paces and went headfirst through the hole.
    Rolled twice wrapped in a torn velvet curtain and scrambled up on my feet and ran.
    Straight out on the rocks.
    I turned back after twenty yards and stood still. The remaining curtain was billowing in the wind. It was flapping in and out of the hole. I could hear the fabric snapping and beating. Yellow light shone behind it. I could see backlit figures crowding together behind the shattered glass. Everything was moving. The curtain, the people. The light was fading and blazing as the curtain flapped in and out. Then shots started coming at me. Handguns were firing. First two, then four, then five. Then more. Rounds were buzzing through the air all around me. Hitting the rocks and sparking and ricocheting.
    Chips of stone flew everywhere. The shots sounded quiet. They sounded like dull insignificant pops. Their sound was lost in the howl of the wind and the crash of the waves. I dropped to my knees. Raised the Persuader. Then the shooting stopped. I held my fire. The curtain disappeared. Somebody had torn it down. Light flooded out at me. I saw Richard and Elizabeth forced to the front of the crowd at the window. Their arms were twisted up behind them. I saw Quinn's face behind Richard's shoulder. He was aiming a gun straight at me.
    "Shoot me now," he screamed.
    His voice was nearly lost in the wind. I heard the seventh wave crash in behind me. Spray burst upward and the wind caught it and it hit me hard in the back of the head. I saw one of Quinn's guys behind Elizabeth. Her face was twisted in pain. His right wrist was resting on her shoulder. His head was behind her head. He had a gun in his hand. I saw another gun butt come forward and knock shards of glass out of the frame. It raked it clean. Then Richard was jerked forward. His knee came up on the sill. Quinn pushed him all the way outside. Came out after him, still holding him close.
    "Shoot me now," he screamed again.
    Behind him Elizabeth was lifted out through the window. There was a thick arm around her waist. Her legs kicked desperately. She was planted on the ground and pulled backward to cover the guy holding her. I could see her face, pale in the darkness. Twisted in pain. I shuffled backward. More people climbed out. They swarmed. They formed up together. They