Discretion is the better part of valor, right? I waited until the garage door settled—a couple more bullets thudded against the now-armored outer surface—and finally slipped out of my ride and headed to the kitchen door.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Bullets continued to strike the garage door, but they had no luck penetrating, as the bullet-proof buckytube laminate now covered both doors. Kaley opened the door just as I reached it.
She gasped. “What in the world—?”
I pushed her in and closed the door. “Glenna, apparently. Taking target practice on my new armored car and the garage doors.”
Kaley was close to foaming at the mouth. “That bitch! I’d kill her myself if I could find her.”
The doorbell rang. Assuming it was our security detail, I dragged Kaley into her den and eyed the front door monitor. Yes, one of Abernathy’s assigned guards. We went to the door and let him in. I wasn’t worried about shots to the front door, as the rear of the house had just been under attack, but you couldn’t tell—if Glenna was half as clever as her sister, she might have hired assassins, for all I knew. Standing to the side, behind a narrow window adjacent to the door covered with the bulletproof film, I let him in.
I didn’t know this Abernathy operative, but I knew the type. Square-cut face, young, earnest expression.
“You guys okay?” he asked.
“Fine. That armored SUV I rented from you guys probably has a few dents, as does our rear garage door.”
He nodded. “When bullets started to hit, we spread out to look for the source of fire. Couldn’t find it.”
Of course, Glenna would be careful, but how do you shield a muzzle from a flare of fire on each shot? Of course, a silencer will suppress the flash and reduce the noise of a pistol or rifle, but it wouldn’t really silence the noise, just cut it down.
“No noise?”
“None.”
I couldn’t suppress the frown. “Shit, man, that’s impossible.”
He nodded. “You’d think so, but we heard nothing. As that’s not possible, we don’t think this woman is using a standard firearm. We figure she’s using a mini-rail gun with a large battery propulsion unit.”
He had me. “What the hell are you talking about?”
His grin was the first non-serious expression I’d seen on his face. Before he could answer, I gestured to the sofa in the living room and we went and sat, the operative on a wingback chair.
“Here’s the deal. Mini-rail guns are new on the market, but you can get them by mail order. It’s like a regular rail gun. Uses magnetic forces to launch a bullet. Muzzle velocity is somewhat less than a rifle of comparable caliber, but still pretty hefty. Thing is, for hunting, they’re just too bulky—battery weighs forty pounds, and has big cables to the rifle body. But launch is essentially silent, and there’s obviously no muzzle flash.”
The explanation flummoxed me. “How the hell could she even carry such a thing?”
“She couldn’t.” He shifted in his chair, pointed to the rear of the house. “From your rear, there are only three two-story houses nearby, all in a row right behind your house, where such a shot could be launched. We have them identified, but the firing had quit by the time we isolated the possible sources. She could be in any one of them, have simply opened the window, taken about a dozen shots, then lowered the window.
“A dozen shots would seriously deplete the battery, so she’d need at least an hour charging time. “We called in more DeSoto police, and the three houses are staked out. We’ve identified the owners and the police will call to see if they can get an answer. We don’t know that your assailant is there—she could have slipped out as soon as she fired, but I think we would have spotted her on the street unless she got terribly lucky, especially if she tried to carry that rail gun rifle with her.”
His com unit squawked, and he answered. “Op forty-seven.”
He listened, nodded, terminated. “The houses to either end of the three two-stories are both occupied. The one in the middle is supposedly unoccupied, the owners on an Alaskan cruise. We told the neighbors to hunker down, not answer the door until we call, and we are focused on the center house. It would have the best vantage point to shoot into your garage, although it is not directly behind your house.”
Kaley spoke. “What now?”
“We are contacting the owners, even though it is evening off Juneau, where the ship is anchored. If we can’t get them, the police will request a search warrant and we’ll try to enter the house. One of the two neighbors was left a key in case of an emergency.” He grinned again. “The police think this qualifies.”
“I’m to stay here with you,” he said.
Kaley seemed relieved. “That’s fine with me.”
I rose, told Kaley that’d I’d be right back, detoured by the bathroom, then to the bedroom where I removed the full-sized Glock 17 with the 15-cartridge magazine plus an extra fully loaded magazine from my armoire, removing my small 9 mm Ruger pocket-pistol and placing it in its hidey-hole.
I returned with the pistol visible, taking my seat by Kaley.
The young man eyed my sidearm “I’d feel a bit more comfortable if you weren’t armed, sir.”
Kaley gave him the fisheye. “Listen, sonny, did you know my husband is a rear admiral in the US navy?”
His brows went up fractionally. “Uh, no, ma’am.”
“He also survived an SF-Seventy-Seven fighter crash on Mars, being pursued by dozens of Bugs and killing about ten of them.” A bit of exaggeration, but not totally untrue. “How many Bugs have you exterminated?”
“Uh, why, uh, none, ma’am.” He shifted his gaze to me. “You’re that Admiral Hays?”
I dipped my head. “Guilty as charged. What’s your name?”
“Jake. That is, John Tillerson, but everybody calls me Jake.”
“Okay, Jake. Kaley’s point is that I know my way around guns in general. I guarantee you that in a firefight, I can carry my own weight. There being no further objection, I feel more comfortable with a sidearm. I promise not to get excited and shoot you by accident.”
That got a nervous laugh, so I let it slide. After a moment, I asked, “What’s the plan?”
Before he could answer, he got another call. He answered, talked softly, and rang off. His face shifted back to me. “The warrant is approved—I think they got a county judge out of bed—and the police are getting ready to enter the premises of the vacant home. Since they surrounded it, no one has gotten out. We’re pretty sure she’s still in there.”
His com chimed again. He answered, spoke so softly that I couldn’t even hear, and hung up. “They’re going in.”
“Your people involved?” Kaley asked. I could have told her no, but he did quickly.
“No, ma’am. That’s a police operation. We’ll observe, keep your house under surveillance, let them do their job.”
We sat in an uneasy silence for a good five minutes, then his com went off once more.
“Yes?” He listened, frowned, terminated. “No one inside. They found a mini-rail gun, as we suspected, but she vacated. Must have run out the door as soon as she quit firing.”
Sure enough, as sly as Glynnis. I shook my head. When would we ever be free—?
A gun shot, muffled but audible, interrupted my thought. Jake was up in a flash, making for the door. As he did, someone pounded on it.
“Must be Walt,” he said, making for door. He opened it—to a pair of gun shots directly at his body. He recoiled backward, away from the door.
You either get used to emergency situations or you don’t. My automatic was already swinging up as Glenna rushed into the room. She’d let her pistol drop slightly to the side—a nine mm that seemed the twin of mine—as she crossed the threshold. And spied me, my gun aimed directly at her middle.
“Drop it, Glenna,” I yelled. She started to bring up her piece, but it had slipped too far, and with Kaley beside me, I couldn’t spare another warning, even if I’d wanted to. I fired three times, just the way I’d practiced dozens of times at the range—and I’m a pretty fair shot.
All three bullets hit home. Careening back across the threshold, at very nearly the same spot where she’d smiled and greeted me for the first time months before, she fired once, reflexively, the bullet ricocheting off the brick porch floor. Then she fell, hard, crashing onto the porch with a thud nearly as loud as those bullets on the garage door. Kaley grabbed me and hung on as I stared, still in shock, at the limp rag doll flung across the brick.
Finally, I pulled free of Kaley and went to the door, standing and looking down. Glenna’s eyes stared blindly at the ceiling of the broad porch. A tight grouping of blood spots dotted the T-shirt she wore. I doubted if she had felt a thing—all three shots had probably hit her heart.
Another second of shocked surveillance, then I turned to our young operative, my ears still ringing from the three shots fired in our living room. He was struggling to get up, blood on one arm, groaning from pain in his middle. With relief, I saw the reason for the pain, not thankfully a wound. Underneath his shirt, now open as he rubbed his front, he wore a bulletproof shield. The other bullet had nearly missed, creasing his shirt sleeve and breaking the skin, but not causing any serious damage.
He managed a grimace of a smile. “I’m okay, just sore as hell. Is she . . . ?”
I knelt, helped him up. “Yeah, I didn’t take any chances. All three shots went right where I aimed.”
Standing, bending over a bit, he groaned again. “Geez, I’ll bet this’ll hurt worse tomorrow.”
Staring down at her, he suddenly gasped and scanned the yard. “That shot—Walt was out there!”
I stopped him from rushing out. “Careful, Jake. We don’t know if she was alone. She probably was, but we can’t be sure.”
“But I gotta check Walt! He could be hurt!”
Just then, a voice came from the front yard, almost as if in response to Jake’s reply, which had been almost a yell. “I’m okay, Jake. Took a shot to my vest, but I’m just bruised and knocked down. Give me a second and I’ll get my feet.”
In a few seconds, Walt, a short, dark-skinned op in all black clothing, walking a bit like a drunkard managed to stagger onto the porch. He stopped at the body, stared down.
“Man, she really got the jump on me. I heard a slight noise, turned, and her shot knocked the breath out of me. Knocked me out for a second. Glad she didn’t shoot again—guess she thought she killed me. Sorry, Jake, I really let you down.”
I interrupted before Jake could reply. “No you didn’t, Walt. You were up against a very sly, evil person, who didn’t care who she hurt as long as she could kill me and Kaley. You guys did good—your presence saved us both.”
Walt winced, stared down, rubbed his ribs. “Nice shooting, Jake.”
I let my gaze slide from Walt to Jake, and before Jake could reply, I said, “Yeah, Jake you saved our bacon. Good shooting.”
“But,” Jake started to protest.
I cut him off. “Not another word, Jake. Good shooting, just like your colleague said.”
About that time, several policemen made it to the front door, one kneeling over the still, slight form. I gave one of the others the eye. “Could we have some help here. Both these guards took bullets to their vests, and they’re a bit shaken up.”
One of the police immediately turned to Walt. I helped Jake up and whispered, “Not a word, Jake. Take the credit and make certain that I am not mentioned. At all.”
He spoke softly in return. “Admiral Hayes, I can’t do that.”
“Please,” I said. “We do not want any whisper of my part in this to get out.”
And that’s the way it turned out. When the police arrived, Jake explained what had happened, and how he had returned Glenna’s fire. He didn’t look too happy about it, but he stuck to the story. The headline in the Dallas newspaper and the other online services the next day would read that a private security operative, name not disclosed, had managed to kill a “deranged” mental patient as the patient invaded our home and attempted to kill us. The name of the patient wasn’t even disclosed, and I judged that after a few days the whole thing would blow over and no one would remember to dig into just who that mental patient really happened to be.
Frankly, the whole affair was more than a little depressing to me. My marriage to Glynnis had ended badly and begun a nightmare that had lasted over a year, including the death of both Glynnis and her twin sister. I still had Glynnis’s estate to dispose of, and I didn’t want one single penny of it, but it was just one more burden I would have to address once the danger of the Bugs could be eliminated.
You’d think I would have slept easier that night, but I didn’t, nor did Kaley. The ending to the saga of Glynnis and Glenna had in fact occurred, but it would take time for the awful picture of Glenna in our front door, and my three bullets smashing into her chest, to fade away.
For now, as I lay in bed, shifting side to side as sleep eluded me, I simply felt thankful that Kaley had not gone into labor a bit prematurely due to the shock and panic of the encounter.
At least, I thought, with the Bugs’ major military base destroyed, our communication about to be sent to them, and my personal problems relieved, things would get a bit easier. Maybe now I could just look forward with pleasure to the birth of my first child.
Wrong again.