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It was true. Flights times set up by the Secret Service were known only by air traffic controllers at the
destination, and even then only after the plane was airborne. In spite of that, she'd know he was coming
up the drive because the dogs would hear the Beehive and erupt in a chorus. Which should have started
by now. He listened, but there was no sound other than the incessant wind. Blowing in from Kansas
again, no doubt, but even so they'd hear the unique whine. The wind was blowing the sound toward the
dogs, actually helping.
They normally began barking before he was even up to the gate, but there was nothing. Suddenly his
blood ran cold and he flicked the headlights twice. The lead car had already pulled away, but it stopped
abruptly, backing up. Stone jumped out of his car even before it came to a complete stop and ran back.
"What is it, Mr. Blake?"
"Tim, something is wrong. If Wilma had house guests, my two Great Pyrenees would definitely be tied
out back or running loose, not inside the house. They'd have heard my car and by now should be barking
their heads off. If they were loose, they'd have been here by now."
"I don't hear anything." Tim's hand was already in motion; it came up with his gun. "Abandon your car
here." His words were short, chopped. "Get in our car." He bared a wrist, touching something on what
looked like a watch. In seconds the agents in the following car had parked it and were there on foot.
"Okay, Mr. Blake. You sit in the back between us. Talk us up to the house and fill in any information you
haven't already told us. Is there any chance those covert guards could have taken the dogs somewhere?"
"No."
"Do these people ever show themselves?"
"No. Well ... yes, once. They interrupted a raid designed to ... to...."
"They thwarted a raid? Forget what it was about."
"Yeah."
"How did the raiders get into the property? Better yet, who alerted your covert group?
"The raiders took out one of the guards, coming in through the back fences somewhere. He managed to
alert the others before ... well, before he--"
"Before he bought it?"
"Yeah."
"Was there an inquiry? Police on the property? Anything like that?"
"No. It was sanitized and covered up."
"You should have mentioned this in Washington, Mr. Blake. Who are these guards?"
"Can't identify them. Let's say someone high up is looking after me."
"The someone high up lost one of his men in a covert operation, and there was no inquiry? Pretty high up,
if you ask me. Your named vice president is ex-army. Say no more."
"The house is just over a rise up ahead. We should be able to see some sort of lights from here. The
house is totally dark. That's not like Wilma."
"We walk from here. You're ex-army and so are we. Phalanx, you in the center. Ten feet separation front
and side. Blake, you hang back out of the line of fire. Be ready to drop on the spot."
"Right."
* * * *
Norman paused, concentrating. Wilma had gone into the bedroom. She couldn't have made it back out in
those few seconds; she had to be in there yet. His peripheral vision registered a large, dark shape
outlined against the sliding doors, black against black, something that changed form even as he'd crabbed
his own way past the room's doorway. Was that her? His night vision had sharpened in the time since the
candles had been blown out, and he remembered hearing something he'd assumed was her a few
seconds before that, but the blob had been larger than Wilma. A fast peek around the jamb at knee
height confirmed the worst. The large shape was already outside the sliding panel and a second form was
shoving the door back into place.
What was it the man at the shooting range said ... in the dark aim higher, or was it lower? Higher! That
was it, but the shape was gone before his first round shattered the panel. The safety glass deflected both
bullets enough to make them miss his target, but glass fragments ricocheted everywhere, some landing at
his knees. A short, involuntary cry from the hallway behind him was Ernie, gasping in fright and shock.
Without thinking, he charged into the room--but it was empty. Wilma had been taken!
He whipped back around the door jamb. "Down, everyone!" His bark was more a coarse whisper than a
shout. Back he scrambled on hands and knees. Gloria was already gone from her chair. Where was
Ernie?
Then there was a sudden flash of light in the kitchen, another shot and then a dull thud combined with the
sound of a gun clattering across the kitchen floor.
Ernie!
* * * *
With the sounds of the first two gunshots, Murray froze. "Tim, that came from the house!"
They were two hundred feet away at the time, but the man behind him snagged his belt and held him from
running forward, forcing him to drop right where he was. The three remaining agents started forward fast,
crouching and weaving into the short brush either side of the drive.
Agent Price maintained his grip on the belt. "Over here, Mr. Blake, behind this brush. Make no noise and
stay down." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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