Hurriedly putting down his coffee cup, he reached for the transmitter in his
left coat pocket, but the chair arm got in his way. He stood up, wasting
precious seconds and knocking his chair over as he continued to stare upward
through the window at the Crown Vic. He'd finally managed to get his left hand
into his pocket as the two men he'd been watching also stood up and began coming
at him.
The one in a police uniform pointed at Jamal and said, "Freeze!" as he
reached for his sidearm. Jamal -- his radio transmitter momentarily forgotten --
made a grab for his Beretta 9mm pistol in his right coat pocket.
Jamal had thought the cop was the greater danger. He was wrong; before Jamal
could even finish bringing his own gun into line with the two men, the other man
yanked a pistol from a shoulder holster, leveled it at Jamal, and fired twice.
Mohammed Jamal felt the hot slugs plunge completely through his chest as
their impact slammed him back against the window facing the street. He was
barely aware that he fired his Beretta as he toppled; for a moment he actually
wondered why the light fixture by the coffee bar exploded.
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