Then he turned to walk away and I heard the shots. I pulled him to the ground automatically.
“Didn’t you hear that?”
“Get into one of the museums,” I suggested. “They have security. Run.”
I didn’t take my own advice, but released him so he could do so. Looking around. Listening for more shots, expecting more shots.
They didn’t come, but I moved towards the commotion. The well-dressed woman I’d seen earlier was on the ground, clutching her side. I didn’t think it was fatal. “Which way did the shooter go?”
Somebody said, “That way,” and pointed.
“Somebody call an ambulance.” And I was off and running. I felt bad about the thought I’d had earlier about bodyguards – clearly I’d been right about her needing them, but still.
Of course, I knew I had no chance…no, wait, I did. Mentally, I summoned the fyrhund and sent him after the scent of gunpowder.
Whoever had fired the shots would still have powder on them, even if they’d worn gloves, even if they’d ditched the weapon. And fyrhunds were more intelligent than normal dogs.
I followed the blazing, wagging stern through the crowd.
Saw somebody start running as he realized the dog was there. Bad guys always seem to be scared of dogs, unless they’re using and in control of the dog. Or he just knew the dog might spot him.
I caught him quickly. Brought him down. I could tell he had tactical armor under his clothes. Professional.
“Who are you?” He was out of breath.
“Somebody you don’t want to mess with. Except it’s too late.”
“Let me go and I’ll match whatever…”
I hit him in the solar plexus before he could finish his offer. “This is a citizen’s arrest.”
The cops were going to be so tired of me, I thought. I had a lot of attention.
“What did he do?”
“Shot somebody. He probably ditched the gun.”
Just to add insult to injury, the fyrhund sniffed at him disdainfully, then just sat down with his tail swishing and a clear “I’m a good boy” expression on his face.
The cops showed up not long after to pick up the trash and yell at me for dangerous vigilanteism.
I really missed Mike.