Two cops dropped. The remaining two threw themselves flat, and opened up with their guns.
The cop on the balcony across the alley yelled excitedly, “There are two of them by the big stack. I can see them.”
Tux swung around, lifted his gun and fired.
The cop on the balcony staggered, his legs banged against the rail of the balcony, and he pitched forward into the alley below.
Tux felt a violent blow on his arm, then a searing pain. The bang of a gun followed immediately.
Cursing, he dropped the gun and clutched at his wrist. Solly fired calmly, and one of the cops who was lying flat heaved up and rolled over.
“Get the other lug,” Tux snarled, groping for his gun with his left hand.
Both Solly and the cop fired simultaneously. The cop jumped up, ran a few yards, then dropped.
Tux felt Solly recoil as the cop’s slug slammed into his thick body. Solly gave a little coughing grunt and dropped his gun.
Tux didn’t wait to see if he were badly hurt. He had to get Johnny. He was losing blood, and every second wasted made his task more difficult. He moved forward, his damaged arm hanging uselessly at his side, slithered down one roof, lost his balance and fell heavily on the roof below. For a moment he blacked out, then shaking off his faintness he got up and staggered across the roof and paused to look down at Rose’s skylight.