Umberto opens the window in Andrea’s bedroom and screams to her, “Hurry. Haul down on the terrace under us. Hurry!”
Andrea’s confusion lasts but a second. This second is enough for both of them to hear the noise of silent gunshots and the smashing of wood, probably coming from the front door. Switching to her instinct for self-preservation helps her to get across the outside of the window and to step onto the parapet of the terrace of her neighbors in less than two seconds. From there to the street down is only two meters, which she takes with just one jump without even using her hands.
She looks up and sees Umberto going down to the terrace. The sound from broken glass shows her that their escape is already detected.
Umberto screams to her from the terrace while throwing her the parcel with the documents, “Run, left. Go to the back yard at the end of the lane and from there directly to the metro station. I am right after you.” Andrea catches the parcel and runs.
At that moment on the window of Andrea’s flat appears one of the suit boys and points his Laison TI-6000, able to shoot 850 bullets in a minute, towards going away blonde hair. But his hand is grasped by Umberto’s steel fingers. One sudden pull and the helpless professional murderer flies head down onto the perfectly asphalted back street. Luckily for the squeamish among you, there is not enough time to graphically describe the mess that forms on the ground.
Umberto immediately follows the body to the ground. After taking the machine gun off the already lifeless agent, he runs in the direction where Andrea went. He hears shots behind him and French speech. One fast look behind his shoulder shows him that from the other part of the lane, where his car is parked, runs the fourth of their uninvited guests towards him. And from the window he detects that the other two are already outside.
He turns suddenly to his left and hides behind a garbage can. He shows and fires two shots with no success. But exactly after that from Andrea’s window appears the mouth of a Kalashnikov machine gun and a short swath brings down all three unprotected agents. Umberto’s brother appears at the window, gives him a sign that everything is okay and disappears again.
Umberto stands up behind the garbage can, opens the lid and throws the machine gun inside. Then he just runs after Andrea. It is about time to disappear; he can hear nearing police sirens, also some more curious or dim-witted people starting to show their heads at the windows. He reaches the entrance of the metro station in less than a minute, but there he trips up on the handcart of a tramp. He swears in Italian while standing up and pushing away the dirty hands of the tramp who is trying to clean him. And after this, the tramp scratches him on the neck with his dirty nails. He runs energetically down the stairs and luckily immediately sees Andrea, looking with tears in her eyes directly at him. He embraces her and felt how all adrenalin from the last few minutes begins pouring out from her eyes.
He caresses her gently and whispers, “They speak French.”
“But how did they find out?” She looks at him through the tears.
“Either the general or they were keeping an eye on Simon’s correspondence,” he says, already returning to his normal breathing rhythm. “Simon,” she says, with pain in her voice, but Umberto just shrugs.
“Let’s get out of here,” he says, tracing with his eyes the arrival of so desired transport. Doors open and they amalgamate with a colorful crowd.
At the entrance of the metro station, none of the passers-by pay attention to the homeless man who talks in French to an empty tin. “Tracking device is successfully put, Mr. General. Over.”
Andrea’s confusion lasts but a second. This second is enough for both of them to hear the noise of silent gunshots and the smashing of wood, probably coming from the front door. Switching to her instinct for self-preservation helps her to get across the outside of the window and to step onto the parapet of the terrace of her neighbors in less than two seconds. From there to the street down is only two meters, which she takes with just one jump without even using her hands.
She looks up and sees Umberto going down to the terrace. The sound from broken glass shows her that their escape is already detected.
Umberto screams to her from the terrace while throwing her the parcel with the documents, “Run, left. Go to the back yard at the end of the lane and from there directly to the metro station. I am right after you.” Andrea catches the parcel and runs.
At that moment on the window of Andrea’s flat appears one of the suit boys and points his Laison TI-6000, able to shoot 850 bullets in a minute, towards going away blonde hair. But his hand is grasped by Umberto’s steel fingers. One sudden pull and the helpless professional murderer flies head down onto the perfectly asphalted back street. Luckily for the squeamish among you, there is not enough time to graphically describe the mess that forms on the ground.
Umberto immediately follows the body to the ground. After taking the machine gun off the already lifeless agent, he runs in the direction where Andrea went. He hears shots behind him and French speech. One fast look behind his shoulder shows him that from the other part of the lane, where his car is parked, runs the fourth of their uninvited guests towards him. And from the window he detects that the other two are already outside.
He turns suddenly to his left and hides behind a garbage can. He shows and fires two shots with no success. But exactly after that from Andrea’s window appears the mouth of a Kalashnikov machine gun and a short swath brings down all three unprotected agents. Umberto’s brother appears at the window, gives him a sign that everything is okay and disappears again.
Umberto stands up behind the garbage can, opens the lid and throws the machine gun inside. Then he just runs after Andrea. It is about time to disappear; he can hear nearing police sirens, also some more curious or dim-witted people starting to show their heads at the windows. He reaches the entrance of the metro station in less than a minute, but there he trips up on the handcart of a tramp. He swears in Italian while standing up and pushing away the dirty hands of the tramp who is trying to clean him. And after this, the tramp scratches him on the neck with his dirty nails. He runs energetically down the stairs and luckily immediately sees Andrea, looking with tears in her eyes directly at him. He embraces her and felt how all adrenalin from the last few minutes begins pouring out from her eyes.
He caresses her gently and whispers, “They speak French.”
“But how did they find out?” She looks at him through the tears.
“Either the general or they were keeping an eye on Simon’s correspondence,” he says, already returning to his normal breathing rhythm. “Simon,” she says, with pain in her voice, but Umberto just shrugs.
“Let’s get out of here,” he says, tracing with his eyes the arrival of so desired transport. Doors open and they amalgamate with a colorful crowd.
At the entrance of the metro station, none of the passers-by pay attention to the homeless man who talks in French to an empty tin. “Tracking device is successfully put, Mr. General. Over.”