The Enemy by Tom Wood

headed down it. He heard bullets strike crates behind him. Sparks flew as one struck a metal pillar.
    He stopped moving after a few seconds, crouched, paused, evaluated. He was somewhere on the other side of the elevator. Though he couldn’t see exactly where, he referred to the image of the layout in his head to get some bearings, reaching out a hand to guide himself into cover.
    Victor could hear Shotgun grunting and cursing, Krausse trying to get him to shut up. The other two weren’t speaking. Their careful footsteps were quiet but still audible. Glass crunched under shoes. Maybe thirty feet away.
    Victor did a quick ammo count. The Glock held seventeen rounds in a full magazine. He’d used six bullets to take out the lights and two on Shotgun. Nine left. Krausse’s men had all fired a few rounds and so far no one had reloaded. He expected they would only after they’d depleted their magazines. Most people did. When that happened Victor might gain a window of opportunity, but he knew it could be a long wait until that opportunity presented itself.
    Shotgun’s grunting ceased. Either he had taken control of his pain or someone had clasped a hand over his mouth. Victor had heard no sound of him collapsing to the ground so he was still on his feet, and if he was on his feet he was still dangerous. He didn’t have to have a good shot to hit Victor with a spread of buckshot.
    He looked around. The central area of the warehouse was in complete darkness. Visibility was so limited that Victor could barely make out the Glock in his hand. The tall windows on each wall allowed some artificial light from the streetlights outside into the area, but not enough to see by unless someone strayed close to the walls. The light penetrated no more than a couple of yards and Krausse and his men weren’t so stupid as to go near those areas.
    Victor untied his laces and slipped off his shoes. He took one into his left hand. With just socks on his feet, he made no sound when he moved. The glass from the exploded strip lights lay along the centre of the space, and Victor planned to go nowhere near there. He stayed low, his left hand outstretched to guard against any collisions, and crept over to the wall on his right. He was careful to move along the exact centre between the two areas of light shining through the windows.
    He pressed his back against the wall and peered into the dark. If he couldn’t see his enemies then at least he couldn’t be seen either. It would take maybe fifteen minutes until his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, but he doubted he could remain hidden from four men for that length of time or sightlessly find his way to an exit undiscovered. His only option was to kill them before they killed him.
    He concentrated on listening. He could hear tentative footsteps and the creaking of floorboards in several places. No more glass crunched, so Victor knew they were staying away from the centre space. Heestimated the origins of the noise but he didn’t have enough bullets to trust to sound only. That was why he had the shoe.
    As soon as he had a good idea of the location of the closest gunmen, he threw the shoe lightly towards where he’d been previously crouching near to the elevator. When it landed, it didn’t sound much like a person moving, but to guys high on adrenalin it was close enough.
    Muzzle flashes broke the darkness.
    Twin bullseyes.
    Victor put two rounds in close proximity to where the nearest flash had appeared, switched his aim, fired another two at the second, and dropped to the floor.
    A shotgun blast took a chunk from the wall a couple of feet to the right of his head and sprayed brick dust into his face. Before he could shoot back, the shotgun fired again, and again, blowing holes in the masonry above him. Small pieces of brickwork dropped down over him.
    He kept low until the shooting had stopped. Brick dust and grit covered his head and shoulders, and was in his eyes and mouth. Apart from the