TWELVE

Jay whistled. A short, sharp blast. The German shepherds responded in an instant. Their barking echoed along the balcony of Ed Ryan's house.

Cliffe and Taylor turned their heads in unison toward the noise.

The opportunity presented for Jay to commence his attack. He launched his boot into Cliffe's midriff. The red beret flew from the man's head as his back smashed against the balcony railings. His right hand cracked against the balustrade, the impact forcing him to drop the pistol he had been carrying. The weapon bounced toward Jay. Cliffe bent forward and dropped to his knees, winded.

Taylor's attention turned from the dogs to the metallic noise of the pistol hitting the balcony. Jay pivoted to his left, took a pace forward and jammed four knuckles into Taylor's throat. Taylor gasped for air. Wide-eyed, he clasped both of his hands around his damaged throat, as though he were choking himself.

Cliffe had dropped to all fours by the time Jay looked back at him. His breaths were shallow and rasping as he raised his head and peered at Jay. The smile had disappeared. He crawled forward and reached for the pistol. Jay balanced and kicked into his ribcage. A sickening crack accompanied a whimper. Cliffe fell to his side on the balcony floor, rolling away from the weapon. He curled and clutched at his ribs.

Jay turned, grabbed Taylor by the back of his neck, and threw him down with his companion. He followed Taylor to the floor and landed with a knee into his spine. The force of the fall knocked the wind from Taylor. Jay straightened him out in a starfish position on the balcony and sat on top of him. He conducted a frisk search. Nothing. No identification, no money, and no wallet. Surprised not to find a weapon, he checked again. Nothing.

He repeated the process with Cliffe. Again, nothing. He got up, breathed in deep and paused to admire his handiwork.

He whistled again and the barking ceased.

Sarah dodged the door onto the balcony, holding a Glock pistol in both hands. She pointed it toward the figures writhing in agony. 'What the hell was that all about?' she asked.

Jay's breaths steadied but the adrenalin still pumped through him. 'Looks like these two boys may have knocked on the wrong door.' He bent down, picked up the 9 mm Browning pistol and handed it to Sarah. 'Make that safe, will you? My hand's still a bit tender.'

'No wonder,' she said. 'What did you do to them? I thought you would've at least waited for me to get my weapon.'

'Not much time,' he said, nodding toward the pistol that Sarah had cleared. He left her on the balcony and went back inside.

'Where're you going?' she called after him.

'To find something to bind these two with.'

Jay rummaged through the kitchen and laundry cupboards until he found what he was looking for. Plastic zip-ties, gaffer tape and two pillowcases. He returned to the balcony with his goods.

'What have you got?' Sarah asked. Her Glock was still trained on the two men who lay face down, hands behind their heads. Both struggled to catch a breath through the pain of their injuries.

Jay ignored the question, bent over Cliffe and affixed the zip-ties to his wrists, tying them securely behind his back. Cliffe groaned until Jay pulled the pillowcase over his head and taped it across his mouth.

'Bit extreme, don't you think?' she asked.

'Bit extreme pulling a pistol on me, too. They want to play army, so I'm just accommodating them.' Jay moved across to Taylor and repeated the binding process.

Jay lifted Cliffe to his feet and pushed him toward the door.

'You can put that away now,' Jay said, nodding towards Sarah's Glock. 'Can you bring Taylor in?'

Jay stopped Cliffe at the doorway. He watched Sarah tuck her weapon in the back of her jeans, move forward and lift Taylor to his feet. She placed one hand on his collar and the other over his belt at the small of his back. Taylor lashed back with his head. She was quick enough to avoid a broken nose and kneed him hard in the side of his thigh. He dropped to the ground. She held on and plunged into his back, no doubt knocking the wind out of him.

Impressive. She had anticipated the headbutt before Jay caught the slight movement forward of Taylor's head in preparation for the strike. Taylor wasn't a small man, either, which made Sarah's reaction even more notable.

She had a forearm on the back of Taylor's neck and withdrew her Glock. 'You want to play games with me, arsehole?' she said, placing the barrel of the pistol into Taylor's ribs. 'Feel that? It's a real fucking weapon. Try that shit with me again and I won't hesitate to use it.' She returned the Glock to the back of her jeans and grabbed a handful of Taylor's hair. After releasing the pressure from his neck, she lifted his head by the hair and smacked it back down onto the balcony. Taylor let out a muffled cry of agony.

Jay was more than impressed.

Sarah forced Taylor into an upright position and followed Jay into the house. The two bound men collapsed with a thud on the lounge-room floor. Jay indicated for Sarah to follow him to the study.

'I need you to get on to the Agency. Find out where those requests are that you sent in,' he said.

'What are we going to do with those two? Who are they?' she asked.

'They're staying here and I intend to find out.'

'I've made the assumption that they aren't military police,' she said. 'How the hell did you know they weren't?'

'How long would it take you to work out if someone was impersonating an agent or a cop?'

She bit into the side of her gum and took a moment to think about the question. 'Not long, I guess. Point taken.'

'Where's the pistol?' he asked.

Sarah lifted the front of her shirt, enough for him to see the pistol.

The flatness of her stomach impressed Jay. He could tell she worked long and hard to keep it that way. 'Nice abs,' he said. He held his hand out for the weapon.

'That's not a good idea,' she said pulling her shirt down.

'What – commenting on your abs? They're great. Work out?'

'I'm talking about the pistol. You don't exactly need it. They're tied up.'

Here we go, Jay thought. The 'I'm the NSIS agent and you're not' speech is coming up. 'I'm going to check the van. Don't want anyone else jumping out at me,' he said.

'I'll check it.'

'No thanks. Just give me the weapon and I'll be back soon.'

'You don't need a weapon.'

Jay thought about it and shrugged. It really didn't matter either way. No need for angst. 'You go, then.'

He watched Sarah walk to the front door. She did work out. The adrenalin from the fight had encouraged his pain away. No longer feeling stiff and sore, he stretched and felt the strength coming back. It was time to prepare Cliffe and Taylor for interrogation.

The German shepherds started barking again, no doubt at Sarah walking down the front steps, Jay thought. But the thought stopped him in his tracks. The two dogs had barked when her cab pulled up earlier and stopped as she walked up the driveway to the front stairs. They never barked at a female visitor, as far as Jay knew, and now they were.

Jay heard the yelling as he bolted for the front door. He wished Sarah had given him the pistol.

'Put your weapon down!' He heard Sarah call out.

'Don't think so, girly. Mine's a shotgun. At this distance you've got the better chance of missing.'

'I'm a federal agent. Put your weapon down. Now!'

Shit, shit, shit, Jay thought as he flew out onto the balcony. He pulled up at the top of the stairs. Sarah was down the bottom, her Glock pointed at a target. Jay's heart skipped a beat as he followed her aim.

He stared in amazement at her target.