Bullets rang off the metal deck plates while Wycliffe and Senhorita Salgado raced for shelter. Gouts of steam and smoke, thick in the air, chased their heels as they ran. Between the blur of barrels, grime-covered metal tanks and stained metal flooring, the women used wooden shelves heavy with boxes to give them sparse cover from their assassin. Over the echo of gunfire, they heard some of the Britannia’s maintenance crew call for help as they ran to safety.
Wycliffe skidded to a stop behind...
Published on April 12, 2015 19:00