SCENT

June - The Breathless (9) (END)

Construction sites were a nightmare in a pursuit.

Half-constructed walls, scaffolds, metal bars and wooden planks. Crates and sacks, concrete mixers, piles of sand – they created a labyrinth stretching left and right, up and down. Dozens of escape routes, a hundred hiding spots. Just moving through was a challenge, never mind searching it. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

When the criminal was armed and dangerous, the needle was covered in a lethal poison. Each corner or elevated spot could hide an ambush. Every hole could be a booby trap. Even if we moved at a snail pace, covering each other would be impossible. There was always a line of fire we'd miss. some spot out of sight. In a terrain like this, the culprit always had an advantage.

Unless you could follow his every step.

"He took a morphine shot," I announced, rising from a crouch. "The syringe should be somewhere around."

We'd found several discarded items since I'd sniffed his track down the ramp. He'd thrown away his shotgun near the entrance to the reconstructed mall. To our collective relief, the drum was empty. No more of the deadly high-explosive shells.

"Let's waste no time." As the most senior officer, Max took the charge of the team. "The forensics can fish for evidence later. For now, make sure we don't lose his track."

"No chance of that," I assured him.

The construction sites had a powerful dormant aroma. Concrete, plaster, paint, rusting steel, welded metal, sawed wood, ozone, glue – the odour was powerful to the point of irritation. It was monotonous, though, the same smell all over the place. Very easy to tune out if I concentrated on scents that didn't fit in.

Kowalski's trail stuck out like a sore thumb.

"He's close," I said, getting back down on all fours and inhaling his scent deep. "I'd say he's got maybe one minute advantage. We're catching up."

"He's slowing down," Cuthbert pointed out.

"Yes. Wounds and fatigue are really getting to him."

"He took morphine, too," Max pointed out. "I guess he'll be really drowsy?"

"I... Wouldn't count on that." I got back up and bid the team to follow me. "He mixed it with amphetamine. I don't know how that affects consciousness."

"Amphetamine?" Cuthbert whispered with disbelief. "It makes no sense."

"Actually, it does," O'Brien replied quietly. "They sometimes mix the two in medical practice to max out the morphine's effects. The thing is in proportions, though. And the purity of both drugs. When done wrong, it's absolutely lethal. Most of the time, it is done wrong."

"We'll take your word on that, Captain Steroid."

"Screw you, Sun."

"Quiet!" Max hushed us down, then pointed us forward.

We made our way towards an unloading area in the back of the mall. Much like the rest of the place, it was cramped with obstacles and cover. One of the walls was half torn down and boarded up halfway through. A huge pile of plaster bricks and concrete slabs formed an impromptu wall, cutting off a section of the hall. In there-

We heard the sound of cracked wood.

I breathed in. He was there. Just around the corner.

I gestured it out to the rest of the team. Max took a quick look around, then pointed us to several spots at the entrance to the closed-off area. A row of wooden crates, a pile of concrete slabs, a stack of heavy bags. Good cover, with a clear line of fire inside.