"Bloody frag," Duran growled. Braced against the side of the elevator car, he had partial cover from the gunfire that suddenly ripped up the wall beside him. He ripped the coverall away with his big hands, stripping himself down to the black synthleathered armor. With a jerk, he freed the Franchi SPAS-22 combat shotgun from where it had been secured down his right leg under the coveralls. He leaned around the door and touched off four rounds as quickly as he could squeeze the trigger.