Stone Barrington 06-11

clambered onto the stair handrail and grabbed the banister built around the stairwell. He was holding onto the banister’s vertical risers, trying to pull himself up, and it wasn’t working very well.
    “I said, clear away from the bride and groom,” Manning’s voice commanded.
    Stone could see a couple of guests peel off from the group, but the cops stood their ground.
    “Listen, Mr. Manning,” a cop said. “There’s more of us than you. More firepower, too. Why don’t you—”
    “If any of you touches a gun, I’ll start firing,” Manning said, “and I’ve got thirteen rounds left. The happy couple will be the first to go.”
    Stone swung his legs sideways and got a toe on the landing. Slowly, painfully, he muscled his way up until he could get a grip on the handrail. Then, as silently as he could, he pulled himself to the top of the railing and let himself down on the other side, striking the floor with a muffled thud.
    “What was that?” Manning demanded.
    “What was what?” the cop said. “Come on, Mr. Manning, you’re not getting out of here. Just drop the gun.”
    “For the last time, step away from the couple, or I’m going to start shooting.”
    Stone had the 9mm automatic in his hand by now, and he slowly pumped the first round into the chamber. On his hands and knees, he crawled to the edge of the group and, very quickly, stuck his head out and withdrew it. What he remembered seeing was a white-haired man in a dinner jacket who had assumed the combat position, pistol in both hands, at arm’s length.
    The odds were not good on hitting Manning before he could fire, Stone reflected. He crouched, ready to leap to one side of the group and start firing.
    Then Manning changed everything. He fired a single shot into the group, and everybody scattered. The women were screaming, and a cop had thrown Liz to the floor and was lying on top of her. The group parted like the Red Sea, leaving Stone exposed, but also leaving him a clear shot at Manning. He took it, firing four rapid rounds down the hallway.
    Manning fired twice more as he was spun backward, but Stone was sure the rounds had gone into the ceiling. Stone rushed him, pistol out before him, yelling, “Freeze, Manning!” He could hear people moving behind him.
    As he ran down the hallway, he saw Manning struggle to one knee and start to raise his gun. Stone stopped and aimed. “Don’t!” he yelled.
    But Manning wasn’t listening. His hand kept moving upward.
    Stone fired once more, and Manning fell backward. Two Palm Beach officers were all over him, kicking his gun away, rolling him over and handcuffing him. Stone put his gun away and walked forward. “Is he alive?” he asked.
    An officer knelt beside the man, his hand at Manning’s throat. “I’ve got a pulse,” he said.
    Stone looked down at Manning. He reached out and pulled the white wig off, then turned his head. At last, he had a full frontal view of the man’s face. It was unrecognizable, and for a moment he thought he had the wrong man, but he remembered that voice. He held the mike to his lips. “The subject is secured. He needs an ambulance, now.” He turned and looked back down the hallway. Liz and Thad were sitting on the floor, a Palm Beach officer leaning against Thad, holding his upper arm. “Make that two ambulances,” Stone said into the mike. He walked over to where the three sat, moved the cop’s hand and looked at his arm. He found a clean handkerchief and pressed it onto the wound. “Hold that,” he said to the man.
    Then he turned to Thad and Liz. “Is either of you hurt?”
    “No,” they both said, simultaneously.
    “I’m okay,” the cop said. “Get them out of here.”
    Stone helped them up and led them to the master suite.
    “Is anyone else hurt?” Thad asked.
    “A security guard is dead, back at the seawall,” Stone said. “And Manning doesn’t look so good. He got into the house in a wheelchair, then abandoned it at the pool. From there, hidden by the hedge, he must have gotten to a kitchen door and made his way up the back stairs. He fired a couple of shots into the garden to cause chaos and to get us to bring you two upstairs. You’ll be all right here. There’s no danger now. I want to get back downstairs and make sure no one else was hurt.”
    “You go ahead, Stone,” Thad said. “We’ll be fine.”
    “Is Paul dead?” Liz asked.
    Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and Stone thought she looked very worried.