Free After the Execution by James Raven

holding a revolver in his outstretched hand and it was aimed at my chest.
    A chill of fear swept through me as he squeezed the trigger and the gun flashed and roared.

14
    I WAS LUCKY . The would-be assassin must have thought that he was too close to miss his target because he was holding the gun in one hand instead of two. And as everyone knows – especially FBI agents – that leaves too much room for error. His arm was not as steady as it should have been and when the Dodge screeched away from the curb the noise appeared to distract him.
    It caused his trigger finger to hesitate for a fraction of a second. Time enough for me to already be moving as he fired off the shot. The bullet sliced a path right where my body would have been if I’d stayed still. I felt the slug whizz above my head as I ducked down. I sprang forward, slamming into him with considerable force. The guy fired a second round, but he was off balance and the bullet went skywards.
    He let out a sharp grunt of pain as his knees buckled and he fell onto the pavement. But I managed to stay on my feet, my ears ringing from the blasts. I dropped the briefcase and grabbed his wrist with one hand while seizing the gun with the other. Panic and rage cut through me like a hot knife. I took a step back, threw off the glasses and pointed the gun at him.
    His face was visible beneath the hood and he stared up at me in slack-jawed disbelief. I saw that he was middle-aged and pale-skinned, but nothing else registered. I had no intention of shooting him, but I had no intention of hanging around so that someone else could try to shoot me.
    I looked around, my heart drumming frantically. I saw diners in the restaurant looking out at me, some of them standing. I felt giddy and disoriented. Cold fear hardened in the centre of my stomach.
    Then I heard a car door open. I turned and saw the Taurus acrossthe road. Two of the suited men I’d seen earlier had got out. My gut told me that they were not coming to my rescue.
    They’re going to kill me,
I screamed at myself.
    So I did the first thing that came into my head – I raised the gun and fired off a shot in their direction, making sure the bullet went well above them.
    As they both ducked behind the Taurus I broke into a run, moving like a panicked deer. My heart was pumping its way out of my ribcage as I hurtled along the street with no idea where I was going. I knew only that I had to put distance between myself and the FBI agents.
    The muscles in my thighs burned as I hammered my feet on the pavement. At the same time the shoes they’d given me were hurting like hell.
    The street was quiet. Too quiet. I was far too exposed. I came to a cross-street and chanced a look back over my shoulder. What I saw flooded my veins with ice. The Taurus was bearing down on me with its headlights blazing.
    Without thinking, I turned left and went at full sprint along a street that was better lit and busier. As I ran, I shoved the gun into my jacket pocket, but not before the sight of it alarmed a bunch of people. One guy jumped out of my way and tripped over the curb, landing on his ass.
    I saw a road bridge up ahead and a sign for the River Walk, with an arrow pointing down. I remembered how crowded the walk was when I came here with Marissa, so I followed the arrow and dashed down a long flight of steps. Behind me I heard the Taurus screech to a halt on the road.
    At the bottom of the steps was the river that meanders through the downtown area of the city. On either side it was lined with restaurants, bars and boutique shops. A steady stream of people was moving in both directions, most of them tourists. The air was filled with the sound of flamenco music and the smell of exotic foods. But I did not stop to admire the colourful scene. Instead I ran straight onto the pavement and jostled my way into the crowd.
    Someone swore at me. Someone else yelled for me to slow down. But I ignored them and pressed on, praying that I’d