Someone was chasing me up the stairs. A single guy. It was difficult to see his face—only the top of his head was visible and he was moving fast. I turned and quickly surveyed the landscape.Rooftops. Of various heights.Maybe going up wasn’t such a good idea after all.I had to do something, so I sprinted across the roof to the back. Lucky for me, there was one of those bunkhouse type structures with a metal door presumably leading to a stairwell that descended back into the hotel. I grabbed the doorknob.Locked.Thinking quickly, I pulled the lockpicks out of the pouch on my belt, fumbled with them for another second, and then poked one into the keyhole.Gunfire!A bullet ricocheted off the metal door a few inches from my head. I stole a quick glance back. The man chasing me had reached the roof and had fired from the edge.It was Roberto Ranelli.The lockpick didn’t work. I had to try a different one.The enforcer fired a second shot. This time the round struck the roof near my right foot, spewing a cloud of cement chips and debris.He ran toward me.
