Another shotgun blast sizzled through the narrow confines of the hallway, but passed over their heads. As Tiger clawed the carpet and dove clear of the blinding, choking cloud of gas, Mike unlimbered his Kalashnikov. With his spine jammed against the juncture of floor and wall, he pointed the gun back toward the doorway and burned the clip. A rain of spent shells ricocheted wildly through the corridor as the gun’s thunder stole their hearing.