“Let’s get over to the door. We’ve got to stop them rushing us.”
Conrad crawled to the splintered door and peered cautiously into the darkness. On the far side of the pool he caught sight of a man running along the tiled walk. O’Brien took a snap shot at him, and the man disappeared into the shadows with a yelp of pain.
“We’re not bad, are we?” Conrad said, and grinned. “That’s two in the bag.”
“I’m going to make a grab for the tools,” O’Brien said. “We’ve got to get that pencil.”
“Watch it,” Conrad cautioned. “Better wait.”
O’Brien crawled forward, ignoring Conrad’s warning. He got his head and shoulders beyond the doorposts and his hand had hold of the tool-case when a burst of automatic rifle fire made him duck down. Bullets whizzed over his head. He began to move back cautiously.
“I’ve got it.” He looked back into the darkness. “Here, Mallory, see if you can get the drain cover off.”
More machine-gun fire started up and for a long moment the three men lay pressing themselves into the floor as a hail of lead tore down more plaster and pulverized the walls.
“Look out!” Conrad snapped as he raised his head. He had seen two men come running along the tiled walk, guns in hand.
Both O’Brien and Conrad fired at them. One of them swerved and fell into the pool. The other tossed his gun high into the air, took two staggering steps and fell flat on his face.