Agent for a Cause - Page 122/131

A voice in my ear spoke and I recognized it as Flint, "Tyre the boys not here! As far as I can make out there holding him somewhere in the dance hall itself!"

My mind seized up on the knowledge that they hadn't found Kevin yet. Being held here? I spun around taking in the mad scene of the rave hall.

Where?

I spun back to where I had been headed during my entire sojourn across the hall, which was the stage area at the opposite side of the old warehouse.

What set the upraised stage area apart and made it stand out was its peculiar oddity from the rest of the hall or anything I had ever seen before.

A mammoth fish tank rose up behind the stage to tower over it. Going with the hard edge theme of the place the wall of the aquarium that formed the backdrop of the stage was almost entirely populated by sharks.

It had to be there!

I climbed the stairs two at a time towards the stage as shots hammered off the stairs all around me even as a few shots landed with painful impact. It was an agony to keep moving and it was only a matter of time before a lucky shot found my head and took me out for good.

It was a pity that they didn't make stylish body armor for the head, at least I didn't think they did. I cleared the top of the stairs and stopped as a solid wall of at least thirty or so guns pointed at me from as many henchmen, who were ringed across the front of the aquarium's glass wall.

There were two side doors to either side of the aquarium, which is where they must've come from and now they had me dead to rights. I didn't have any more bullets left anyway.

They didn't fire as they were confident in that they finally had me. I dropped my rifle and with a rueful smile I took off my hat to await the inevitable. They weren't going to be nice to me for crashing their house like this.

I turned to see that the surviving gunmen from the crowd side were making their way up the stairs below me. I turned back to those coming from the stage side, but as I did so I let the hat spin from my hands like a frisbee. It sailed over the heads of the approaching men to thunk heavily into the aquarium's glass wall as the steel brim of the hat bit into the glass.

It hung there poised in the air and the approaching men, who had stopped looked back to me from the stuck hat as the absurd words of the song trailed out for what must be the third or fourth time now through the crummy lyrics, "……he's the Iceman!"