He rose and headed down the stairs after Peretz as rapidly as he could. "Mike, where've you been?" He waved at Vance. "We can't go on meeting like this. What do you say we just pack it all in and go sailing?"
"Fine with me," Vance yelled back. "No time like the present.”
At that moment, a shot rang out from somewhere in the direction of the fallen gantry, whereupon Peretz whirled, leveled his Walther into the mist, and got off a burst on full auto. Emptying the clip.
The scene froze, like a tableau. Vance's first thought was that Peretz had overreacted. Nervous. And probably with good reason. But at least Cally was trying to do her share. The problem was, the quarters were too close.
The two Pakistanis were still standing on the tarmac, not quite understanding what was happening, but Ramirez sized up the situation in an instant. He shoved Mannheim up the steps ahead of him, ducked into the protection of the Sikorsky's open door, and then turned back. Peretz was slower, caught standing on the foggy tarmac next to the bottom step. When he realized his Walther's clip was empty, he fished another out of his pocket and quickly began trying to insert it.
"That won't be necessary, Dr. Peretz." Ramirez's voice was like steel. "Let me take care of it." Whereupon he leveled his Beretta 9mm and shot a startled Abdoullah squarely between the eyes. Before Shujat realized it, he shot him, too, point blank in the left temple.
"What in hell are you doing?" Peretz yelled, watching them fall. He was still trying to shove a new clip into his automatic, but now he was losing his touch and it jammed. "That's not how we—"
"I suppose you thought me some kind of fool," Ramirez replied, shifting his aim. "It's time I laid that fond illusion of yours to rest once and for all."
"I don't appreciate your tone of voice." Peretz was still struggling frantically with his Walther.
"And I don't appreciate you trying to make off with this helicopter. We have just lost a crucial element of our relationship, the element of trust."