Chapter 1720 - 1349: The Ones That Got Away (Part 3)

Little Masoud pushed open the window, letting the hot wind rush in.

He first threw his backpack towards the opposite balcony, landing precisely by the clothes rack.

Then, enduring the searing pain in his right leg, he climbed onto the window ledge.

The wound tore open again, warm blood flowing down his calf.

Two meters was usually just an easy jump.

But now, the blood loss, pain, and adrenaline-induced exhaustion made this distance seem like a chasm.

He glanced back at the door.

The doorknob was being turned.

Jump.

In the moment his body was airborne, time seemed to slow down.

He saw the peeling blue paint on the opposite balcony railing, a child's shirt hanging on the clothesline, and an old man pushing a cart selling roasted chickpeas in the alley below.

Then his feet hit the ground, a massive impact spread through his body, and the sharp pain from his right leg wound almost made him kneel.

He staggered a few steps, grabbed the railing to steady himself.

Almost at the same time, the door to 407 was crashed open.

The loud crash echoed through the building.

Little Masoud curled up behind the balcony railing, holding his breath.

Through the gaps in the railing, he saw a shadow inside the opposite window and heard angry curses:

"No one's here! The window is open!"

"Check the balcony! Look for traces!"

He slowly moved back, retreating to the inner side of the balcony, leaning against the wall.

This was a blind spot from the opposite view; as long as he didn't stick his head out, he wouldn't be spotted.

"Footprints on the balcony! There's blood! Fresh!"

Damn.

His footprints from the landing were still in the balcony's dust, and he dripped blood.

"He jumped over! Notify Team B, block the area between buildings three and four! Deploy the drone!"

Little Masoud's brain raced.

Getting directly to the ground from the balcony was already impossible.

They would be waiting for him downstairs.

The only way out is up.

He looked up at the rooftop. This residential building had only six floors, the rooftop was flat, usually with solar water heaters and satellite antennas.

If he could reach the rooftop, maybe he could leave through the maintenance passage connecting to the adjacent building.

But how to get up there?

The balcony did not have doors leading directly into the building.

This was designed for anti-theft; the balcony was only connected to the living room, and he was now trapped outside the balcony.

Unless…

His gaze fell on the drainpipe on the balcony's outside.

A white PVC pipe extended vertically from the roof, with fixation rings at each level.

The pipe's diameter was about ten centimeters, barely able to hold an adult's weight.

The noise from below was getting closer.

He heard new instructions coming through the intercom: "Drone is airborne, everyone alert, the target may attempt to climb the exterior walls."

No more choice.

Little Masoud strapped the mini Uzi to his back, tightened the gun belt.

The Glock was tucked in behind his waist.

He spat on his palm and rubbed his hands, then grabbed the first fixation ring on the drainpipe.

The PVC pipe creaked lightly in his hand.

He tugged it experimentally—it was fairly secure.

Taking a deep breath, he began to climb.

With each meter he ascended, his right leg wound felt like being seared by a hot iron.

Blood trickled down his calf, leaving dark red traces on the white pipe.

He gritted his teeth, forced himself to ignore the pain, and focused on each grip.

Upon reaching the fifth-floor balcony position, he heard voices from below:

"There's bloodstain here! On the pipe!"

"He's climbing the pipe! Open fire!"

The sound of bullets hitting the wall followed, cement fragments splattering on his face.

Little Masoud climbed desperately, his arm muscles quivering from overexertion.

Another gunshot rang out, a bullet grazed his left arm, carving a bloody trace on his skin.

Two meters to go.

One meter.

His hand finally reached the rooftop edge.

Using the last of his strength, he pulled himself up, pushed off the wall with his right leg, and rolled onto the rooftop concrete.

He lay there, gasping for air, chest heaving violently.

The sky was leaden gray, clouds hung low as if about to crush down.

The drone's buzzing sounded from below, rapidly approaching.

Little Masoud struggled to get up, surveying the rooftop.

As he expected, there were a dozen solar water heaters and several rusted satellite antennas here.

On the other side of the rooftop, he saw what he needed—the maintenance passage connecting the neighboring building.

It was an iron frame bridge, barely half a meter wide, connecting this building's rooftop to the adjacent commercial building.

He dashed towards the iron frame bridge.

The drone's buzzing was already close, he glanced back, a quadcopter was rising from the side of the building, its camera glowed red.

Little Masoud raised his gun to shoot.

Three shots burst, the drone emitted a puff of black smoke, tilted, and fell down.

But the gunshots thoroughly exposed his position.

Shouts came from below: "On the rooftop! He's on the rooftop!"

He dashed onto the iron frame bridge.

The frame shook violently underfoot, rusty bolts emitting a teeth-grinding groan.

Below was a six-story drop, a fall would mean certain death.

Halfway across, the commercial building's rooftop door suddenly swung open.

Two armed men rushed out.

Security Bureau?

Had they closed in already?

Little Masoud aimed his gun but realized just before pulling the trigger, he saw their faces—

Not from the Security Bureau.

It was Adnan, his father's old unit, who served ten years in the Presidential Guard, now a boss of a private security company in Elbil.

Last year, Little Masoud even attended his daughter's wedding.

"Young Master!" Adnan called softly, gesturing him to come quickly, "This way!"