Without the lights from the flashlight and computer, the garage had again turned inky black. Too black, Pitt realized with a sudden flicker of hope. The guard’s night vision goggles required some form of ambient light to function, be it only faint starlight. But the only source of ambient light in the garage was the laptop computer and it had been removed. That’s why the guard had called to his partner—because he could no longer see anything.

Pitt’s theory was confirmed when he heard a zipper being pulled open on the guard’s jacket. He was fishing for his own flashlight. Pitt didn’t let him make the catch.

Pulling one of Ann’s crutches from her grasp, he spun it into a battering ram and charged forward. He could only hope that the guard remained where he was when his partner had left, five feet directly in front of Pitt.

As he fumbled for his light, the guard had lowered his gun hand and was totally unprepared when the rubberized foot of the crutch slammed into his sternum. The unseen blow thrust him backward, sprawling across Heiland’s desk. He whipped his gun around and fired several blind shots, not realizing he was aiming three feet over Pitt’s head.

“Ann, get out the back door now!” Pitt shouted.

Ducking low, he spun the crutch around again and started swinging it, trying to make contact with the prone gunman. The muzzle flashes gave him guidance, and he batted the aluminum crutch against the man’s wrist with a bone-shattering crack, sending the gun flying.

Ann had dropped to the ground at the first gunfire and felt along the wall until locating the door, then the handle. She twisted the knob of the dead bolt above it and flung open the door. Grabbing her remaining crutch, she crawled out, then hopped away from the building.

Before the door swung shut, she heard the gunman let out a wail from the pain of his fractured wrist. He scrambled off the desk to escape Pitt’s onslaught. Pitt could hear him stagger to his feet, but now he was beyond reach and out of sight. Knowing that Ann couldn’t move fast with her hurt ankle, Pitt pressed the attack to buy her more time. He dropped the crutch and hurled himself onto the desk, sliding across the spot where the guard had backpedaled seconds before.

Spinning as he slid, Pitt landed on his feet and took a step forward, blindly swinging his fist in an arc in front of him. His knuckles only grazed the jacket of the guard, who had stepped to Pitt’s left.

The guard countered with his good hand, striking a solid punch to Pitt’s shoulder.