sees another black-and-white flash. He raises his gun to fire, then pulls his finger quickly away from the trigger. The black-and-white flash is a large zebra fish, swimming straight at him from the opposite side of a tank’s glass wall. The zebra fish knocks against the glass barrier with a thud, then glides off.
A shooter shouts out in the darkness, “There he is!”
The back emergency door of the aquarium swings open, setting off a ringing alarm. Framed in the doorway by outside light is the skeleton figure of Bizango.
The shooters fire; bullets zing through the air, smashing into the tanks, shattering glass, releasing a cascading avalanche of water and sea creatures.
The Chief runs as he yells above the alarm at the shooters, “Go after him!”
The Chief and the shooters race toward the open exit door. They slip on the wet floor, falling onto broken glass and sliding among floundering sea creatures. The Chief skids across the floor past a loose octopus flailing its tentacles, then bumps to a stop against a twisting leopard shark. He pushes away from the shark, yanks out his cell phone, punches in a number, and shouts, “Moxel! You read me?”
Moxel’s voice crackles back over the phone: “Chief! I can barely hear you! I’m in the fort hideout!”
“Bizango is headed there! He still thinks it’s safe! Get ready! Alert all riflemen! Shoot to kill!”
At the top of the soaring white column of the Key West Lighthouse, Noah stands on the outside circular iron catwalk. Above his head, the shining glass beacon revolves in the night. He gazes across the lights and shadows of the town. In the distance, police helicopters fly over the maze of streets, searching for Bizango.
Echoing up from the interior staircase behind Noah is the sound of approaching footsteps climbing to the top of the lighthouse. He turns to the open doorway leading from inside onto the catwalk. He pulls out the Luger tucked behind his belt. The black-and-white skeleton of Bizango appears in the doorway. Noah raises his pistol. “It’s over.”
Bizango’s skull head swivels slowly; the impenetrable black sockets of the eyes fix on Noah. The rubber mouth and nose openings of the face mask pulsate with heavy breathing. Noah steps closer with the aimed pistol. “You can’t kill every wrongdoer. Even a hurricane can’t blow away all of man’s evils. This is the end.” Bizango’s chest heaves. Noah reaches out in a swift movement and grips the bottom of the mask. Bizango’s hand whips up, and skeletal fingers grab Noah’s wrist in a powerful grip. Noah holds tight to the mask. “Even a hurricane can’t blow away all of—”
Noah’s words are cut by the clatter from a helicopter swooping down over the lighthouse. The copter’s side door slides open. A sharpshooter leans out from the doorway with a scope-mounted rifle and pulls the trigger. Bizango slams Noah down onto the catwalk as the bullet blasts out a cement chunk of the wall where Noah was standing. Another bullet whams into Bizango. The skeleton raises clenched fists above its skull head in defiant rage at the copter; rifle fire zings; blood gushes from bullet holes ripping into Bizango’s rubber suit. Bizango collapses against the catwalk’s iron railing, struggling to hang on.
Noah, facedown on the catwalk floor, reaches out and grabs Bizango’s skeleton ankle. He pulls back hard on the ankle, trying to keep Bizango from falling off the lighthouse. The helicopter banks hard and hovers directly in front of Bizango. The copter’s blades whip waves of wind against Bizango, who clings to the railing. The crack of five rapid rifle shots from the copter tear into Bizango. Noah feels Bizango’s ankle wrench away from his grip. Bizango plunges off the side of the lighthouse. The helicopter shines its searchlight on Noah. He staggers to his feet, grips the catwalk railing, and looks over. Far below is the sprawled black-and-white body of Bizango.
Noah races down the lighthouse staircase and outside. He kneels next to Bizango. The skeleton’s rubber suit oozes blood. Noah leans over Bizango’s face mask and hears faint breathing. He takes hold of the mask and begins lifting it up.
Behind Noah, a police car skids to a stop. The Chief and the riflemen jump from the car. The Chief yells, “Is he alive or dead?”
Noah swings around furiously. “Stay the hell away!”
The Chief signals his riflemen. “Stand back! Give them room!”
Noah turns back to Bizango and pulls hard at the tight skull mask. The mask peels off the face with a