Rafferty decided not to try the door on the end. He already knew some of Brown’s


    men had taken up a spot there. He needed to get inside one of the buildings in the


    middle and try to figure out how they connected internally.


    If he could find Hawley, and get the man away, then the inspector would be able to


    testify to the kidnaping.


    Of course, Brown would say he was somewhere else and pay enough people to prove


    it in court. He had to do something to prevent that. He didn’t know what he could do


    unless it was to kill the man and then flee before the inspector could arrest him.


    He considered if Fletcher knew people who could give him another identity


    somewhere else. Other parts of the country might need a masked man to look into


    things after this was over.


    A man of his experience should have no trouble setting himself up somewhere in a


    new job, with a new name, and a new history.


    Rafferty ran up the short steps to a door that didn’t look that dangerous. He tried the


    knob before he used the keys on it. He used the keys to unlock it and push it open. He


    slipped inside and listened.


    He heard voices and footsteps overhead. He looked around and saw a set of steps


    heading to a second floor. He went up the stairs, frowning at the creaking he was


    doing trying to be sneaky.


    At least no one noticed him from the way the voices carried on. He realized they were


    looking for him in the street. He supposed he had ducked inside before they saw him.


    He checked the Webley. He was ready to shoot as soon as he had a target. He needed


    to find one.


    He advanced on the voices, pistol leveled ahead of him. He found a room to his right


    where two men watched the street. He didn’t have to shoot them if he could get


    within touching distance.


    He brought the butt of the Webley down on the back of the right hand man’s head.


    The man’s hat absorbed some of the blow, but he went down in a daze. Another blow


    to the head put him down for the count.


    The other man turned when his comrade went down. A gloved hand slammed him


    against the window. Then a boot caught him in the chest. He went through the


    window and out on the street.


    Rafferty turned toward the door. He went to stand beside it and waited.


    Three more men crowded through the door. They received gun shots to the legs. They


    went down as the cloud of smoke spread in the air.


    Rafferty dropped his revolver in his coat pocket. He searched his victims and took


    their weapons. He waited for a few minutes before venturing out of the room. He


    didn’t want to walk into an ambush after being so successful.


    Rafferty made his way down to the last room in the hall. He scanned it from the door.


    He thought that maybe there should be a secret door, but he didn’t have an idea how


    to open it.


    Did he go out the door, and move down to the next front in line? Did he wait?


    Someone must have heard the gunfire. Brown would want it checked out.


    Would they surround the building from the street? They didn’t have to come in after


    him if they didn’t care about the building.


    It would be just as easy to burn the place down and wait for him to try to escape.


    He had done enough of that in the Great War.


    He walked into the room. He examined the wall. He walked over and began searching


    for a release with his hands. He heard a click. The wall snapped out a few millimeters.


    He grabbed the edge with his hand and pulled it open, using the thing as a makeshift


    shield.


    Bullets dug into the wood and plaster he hid behind. He ducked down as splinters


    flew through the air. He pulled one of the stolen pistols from his coat. He opened fire.


    A cry of pain rewarded him.


    How many more gunmen still roamed the place? He had lost count. He hoped that he


    had shot most of them.


    He needed to advance. Once he cut through the mobsters in front of him, he could


    find Hawley and get the hostage out of the way. Then he and Mick Brown could have


    a little talk about things.


    He doubted he could go back to using James Rafferty as a cover since Brown had just


    told everyone he was the man in the mask. He needed some kind of next step to


    protect his life.


    Before that, he had to rescue Hawley and put a bullet in Brown. When that was done,


    Stolen story; please report.he could think about constructing a new life outside the mask.


    He doubted Hawley would like a vigilante sponsored by the government to


    circumvent the laws.


    Rafferty pushed through the door. He saw one man writhing on the floor. He didn’t


    see any others. Could that one man be the only one left?


    How many more men were in the complex? What would Brown do now? Those two


    questions seemed more important than anything else.


    He could still kill Hawley. No one would say he was there. Rafferty wouldn’t be able


    to prove anything since he was there as his masked alter ego.


    Only Fletcher would believe Rafferty’s account. No one else would, even with the


    number of men shot. They would put that down to a rival gang, or the ex-detective.


    And none of it pointed to Brown.


    The only thing in his favor was he still had the accounting books. Brown needed them


    back. If the contents were decoded, a lot of people other than Brown would be headed


    to court.


    That would put Brown’s head on the chopping block better than any other thing


    Rafferty could do.


    Rafferty kicked the shot man in the head so he could hear other sounds better. If he


    had time, he would call an ambulance down to haul the mobster away. First, he had


    to work his way back to Hawley and get him free, if he were still alive.


    He worked his way forward, eyes on the doors ahead. He didn’t want to get shot


    because he missed someone hiding in a room.


    Rafferty heard something click behind him. He looked over his shoulder as he took


    cover in the next room off the hall.


    The door to the other building had closed after he had entered the building he was in.


    The clicking he heard came from someone working the lock on the door. It swung


    open. Men crowded in the entrance.


    Rafferty pulled one of the other stolen pistols from his coat. He hoped that would be


    enough to deal with the crowd he saw. Bullets flew down the hall as the men spotted


    him bounding for cover.


    He waited for the shooting to pause. He doubted the gangsters had learned fire


    discipline. He expected them to run out ammunition at the same time.


    He hunkered down and waited. Splinters of wood and plaster peeled from the wall


    above him. He hoped they didn’t adjust for the fact that he might have ducked down


    from standing at his full height at the edge of the door.


    The shooting stopped as the gangsters ran out of ammunition, or paused because they


    didn’t want to waste ammunition on a target that might be dead. Nervous hands


    reloaded as they waited for something to happen.


    Rafferty fell across the threshold of the door, arms extended. He shot until he ran out


    of bullets in the automatics he had stolen. Cries of pain rewarded him as the men were


    caught in the stream of lead and fell to the floor.


    The masked man discarded the empty weapons and pushed himself up. He ran down


    to the end of the hall. He had one more loaded weapon. He had spare magazines for


    it. Once he crossed the other side of the next secret door, it would be him and


    whomever Brown had left as guards.


    He worked the secret switch on the hidden door and opened it. He took a moment to


    glance around. No one blocked him.


    Rafferty worked his way down to the next door. He opened that and found himself


    above where he had escaped earlier. Hawley sat tied to his chair with a gag in his


    mouth.


    He didn’t see Brown, or a guard. Where had the mobster gone? Why had he left


    Hawley tied to his chair?


    He didn’t see any way down from where he stood.


    He looked around again. A ladder ran up the wall to the door. All he had to do was


    slide down that to the floor. He felt that the situation was a trap of some kind.


    What did he do?


    The prudent thing would be to go back and go out one of the side doors to the street,


    and circle around to the door to the room on the ground floor. The ladder had to be


    the trap.


    How did he get around it?


    He gauged the height of the door from the floor. He expected that someone would


    come in shooting if he remained on the ladder for any length of time. So he had to get


    down and get to cover before the trap sprang shut.


    He dropped down to the floor and rolled to one side. That saved his knees so they


    wouldn’t be hurt by a direct drop. The roll carried him away from the ladder. He


    heard the door open as he pulled the last stolen pistol from his coat.


    The door opened on the other side of the room. He leveled the pistol and fired before


    the new arrival could fire his own automatic. The last thing he wanted at this stage


    was to get Hawley killed after everything he had been through.


    Rafferty pulled himself to his feet. He dumped out the magazine of his pistol and


    reloaded as he ran to the door. He kicked Hawley’s chair over as he passed. He didn’t


    need the inspector to catch a stray bullet when things were this close to being


    resolved.


    If he could take the fight out in the street, he might be able to drive Brown and the


    rest of his gang off. That would cause Brown to flee the city, if not the country. That


    would make the gangster someone else’s problem.


    He paused at the door. He didn’t want to be caught in the same trap as the one he had


    turned around. Don’t run out if you can’t see where your enemy is. He peeked out.


    Brown’s men had Browning rifles in hand. He slammed the door shut.


    He needed help to get out of this.


    He ran to where Hawley lay tied to his chair. The inspector had some blood and


    bruising on his face. It looked like all the flying lead had missed him.


    Rafferty cut the gag away with a pocket knife. He kept an eye on the door as he sawed


    at the rope holding the inspector in its grasp.


    “Rafferty?,” asked the inspector. “What the blazes?”


    “It’s my new job,” said Rafferty. “Can you move on your own?”


    “I think so,” said Hawley. “I have to get the blood going.”


    “All right,” said Rafferty. He went to the front door. “Each of these buildings are


    connected together with secret doors. Brown has some men outside with military


    rifles. We have three exits from this room; this door, the door on the other side of the


    room, and the secret door I used to get in here.”


    “And Brown is guarding that door,” said Hawley. He went to the other door in the


    back of the place. He cracked it open. “We have some men out here too.”


    “I do not fancy charging out there,” said Rafferty. “Will they come in through the


    secret door?”


    “They would almost have to if they want to take advantage of having us bottled up


    in here,” said Hawley. “We have to do something to create a distraction and give us


    a chance to escape.”


    “I’m thinking,” said Rafferty.