Just inside the gymnasium's main doors, two FBI guards — stationed to protect the defector — lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling. Bullet holes had left punctures in their faces.

Ten feet from the doors stood two gunmen. They wore ragged jeans and UCLA sweatshirts to blend in with the fashion at the school's main campus. Each carried a gym bag over his shoulder — a bag for carrying the tools of death, handguns with large cylinders planted on the ends of the barrels. Both handguns were pointed squarely at the face of Babette, the target for the first misplaced shot.

In the time it took Tracy Shaw to drop in a heap, Babette Pavlovski reacted. Shots rang out. The coach launched her long body under the beam, bowling Kelly over. The shots missed their mark by inches. Kelly and the coach rolled together, taking refuge behind a wooden vaulting horse.

Babette spoke rapidly to her star black gymnast.

"They're after me, but they'll kill every witness they find. I'll make them follow me away from here. Phone this number." She handed Kelly a piece of paper. "Tell whoever answers exactly what happened... and tell them to get some help for Tracy. I... I think it's too late."

Babette sprang into a sprint, zigzagging toward another exit. Small, nearly silent coughs of gunfire followed her moves. None connected.

When she reached the junction of the corridor, she paused long enough to ensure that her pursuers saw her. As she turned the corner, a bullet chipped the wall just inches behind her.

Meanwhile Kelly made her way back to Tracy. Kelly was in shock. She took one look at her teammate and gagged again. She knew the young gymnast was dead. She dashed to the director's office to use the phone.

Brenda Gillium and JoJo Tate, two young gymnasts who had witnessed the carnage from a dressing-room window that faced the gymnasium, followed Kelly into the director's office.