Candidate for Murder

by Lauren Carr

  On the upper level, Cody and his partner moved with the utmost stealth down the hallway toward the master suite, where they expected to find the young couple in a loving embrace in the safety of their bed.

  They were unaware that at the opposite end of the hall, a highly trained creature was creeping equally stealthily up the back staircase.

  Upon bursting into the bedroom, the two assassins were disappointed to find the bed not only empty but also still made. “Maybe they’re not home,” Cody’s partner said into his com device.

  “Keep searching,” Tucker said.

  After sending Cody to check the other rooms on the floor, the older gunman went into the master bath. He opened the door to the steam bath and peered into the darkness. Abruptly, he felt a pair of jaws with the force of a bear trap clamp down on the back of his knee. The sharp pain brought him to his knees. His head banged on the wall and then on the glass enclosure as Gnarly dragged him out of the steam bath and across the floor.

  The ambush caused the gunman’s rifle to discharge. The shot bounced off of the steam bath’s bulletproof enclosure before striking the gunman in the neck.

  Abruptly, the lights throughout the house flashed on and reached a bright intensity before the house returned to black.

  When the television on which Newman, the Bassett hound, was watching the presidential debate turned off, Newman growled at the interruption. Glaring at Sarah, the dog barked.

  Sarah grabbed the remote and pressed the “power” button. “What’s the big deal?” she said to Newman. “It isn’t like you’re planning to vote.”

  “Shots fired,” Nigel said. “Code ninety-nine activated and launched. Lethal force activated.”

  “Is that a good thing?” Sarah’s voice trembled.

  “Not if you’re a bad guy,” Tristan said.

  “Damn it!” Murphy pounded the Ferrari’s steering wheel as if that would make the traffic in the clogged streets of downtown Washington move. It was a weekend, and everyone was out to take in the shows or visit the clubs.

  After reading the screen of her cell phone, in a strained voice, Jessica said, “Murphy?”

  “What?”

  “Nigel just authorized lethal force.” She held up the phone so that he could read the message himself.

  Throughout the house, the remaining gunmen bellowed in pain when every earbud began to emit a high-frequency squealing noise of such intensity that it hurt their ears. Unable to stand the pain, they tore the devices out of their ears.

  At the same time, in the van outside of the security fence, all of the computers and communications shut down.

  “No,” Elmo said while hitting one button after another. “This can’t be happening. We’re the CIA. No one can shut us down.” He took his secure cell phone out of the case and checked the screen. He had no bars. “Are you kidding me? That’s never happened before.”

  Cody ran into the master bedroom in search of his partner. Upon seeing the gunman lying in a pool of blood in the middle of the bathroom floor, Cody backed out of the room.

  “You bastard, Thornton!” Peering through the sights on his gun, Cody searched each corner of the bedroom. “Come out like a man, and show yourself.”

  As Cody swept the room with his weapon, Gnarly darted out of a dark corner to collide with the back of his knees. Cody hit the floor so hard that the wind was knocked out of him. Before Cody could recover, Gnarly lunged for the rifle.

  In a life-and-death tug-of-war, Cody struggled to keep at least one hand on his weapon as he reached for the knife in his belt.

  On the ground floor, a gunman was searching the game room when he heard what sounded like a woman sobbing.

  Maybe it’s that rich man’s daughter.

  Licking his lips in anticipation of some fun with the wife of their target before they killed her, he made his way toward the sound of the crying, which seemed to be coming from a room at the end of a small, dark corridor.

  “Stop crying, or they’ll find us.” The male voice that shushed her confirmed that the gunman was on the verge of striking gold.

  “But I’m so scared!”

  They continued to whisper until the gunman entered the wine cellar. Shadows and movement behind a shelving unit in the corner gave away the couple’s location.

  “I see you there,” he said. “Come out now, and I won’t hurt you.”

  He waited.

  There was no response.

  “We have you trapped, Thornton. There’s no escape. Come out now, and you won’t get hurt.”

  Still not receiving any response or seeing any action, the gunman charged around the corner only to find a lava lamp. He was still cursing when the heavy metal door slid across the doorway, sealing him in the wine cellar.

  Enraged, he pounded on the door. “Thornton, open up this door!” Checking his cell phone to see if he could call for help, he found that there was no signal. It was useless. In frustration, he hurled it to the floor.

  “When I find you, Thornton, you’re a dead man.”

  After yanking his handgun out of its holster, he aimed it at the door and unloaded the clip. The shots bounced off of the bulletproof door and around the room. He realized his mistake when a shot hit him in the back of the leg—a split second before a second bullet struck him in the back and the fatal shot struck him in the back of the head.

  Tucker was searching the sun-room when he heard a scream on the floor above him. Recognizing his brother’s voice, he ran to the bay window in time to see Cody’s body fall from the balcony above and crash down on top of the outdoor kitchen’s grill.

  “Co-Cody!” Tucker tore through the French doors to run over to his brother’s broken body.

  Screaming with rage, he ran back inside and up to the top of the stairs in time to see a shadow of a figure run down the back stairs.

  “Thornton! When I catch you, I’m going to tear you limb from limb!”

  Up on the roof, a sliding door opened. In silence, a drone rose up out of its rooftop housing and made its way up toward the treetops. Gracefully, it circled around the house and made its way out toward the road.

  On the ground floor, one of the gunmen entered the home theater. Seeing the articles of clothing thrown around the room, he sensed that they had interrupted the young couple at an inopportune time.

  “There you are. I know you and your wife are in here, Thornton. You might as well come out. There’s no way you can escape us.”

  Lights all around the room, including on the ceiling and the floor, turned on. Each light was directed toward the center of the home theater to create a life-size image—a hologram—of Murphy Thornton.

  The gunman chuckled.

  “I’m Murphy Thornton, this is my home, and you are not welcome here. I’m only going to tell you this once: leave now, or we will use lethal force to end this invasion.”

  “Seriously? I’m not afraid of a movie,” the gunman said.

  “Is that your final answer?” Murphy asked.

  “No, this is my final answer.” The gunman fired three shots through the hologram, which disappeared in the gunfire.

  Across from the gunman, Murphy’s face filled the movie screen. “You chose poorly.”

  The gunman’s face filled the wall-sized monitor. The red cross hairs aimed between his eyes zeroed in on him.

  Confused by and curious about the image on the screen, the assailant stepped closer to it, noticing that every move he made was projected up onto the wall. Too late, he noticed a small hole in the wall and saw the muzzle of the gun. Before he could react, a shot was fired and struck him in the very center of the cross hairs.

  Inside the van, Elmo was punching his phone and waving it out the window in an effort to get a cell-phone signal.

  Lieutenant Thornton couldn’t have blocked the signal. He’s a pencil pusher at the Pentagon. Doesn’t he know we�
�re the CIA?

  The remaining gunman went into the kitchen. Smelling something strange, he made a face. “Is that—” He saw the gas stove in the middle of the shiny granite counter top.

  Without being touched by human hands, the burner turned on.

  As he was hanging out of a window, Elmo heard the whir of an engine. Looking up into the sky, he saw a drone gracefully flying his way. The drone moved closer to the van and circled it.

  As the drone closed in on him, Elmo spotted the camera hanging from the bottom of it and realized where the drone must have come from. “Lieutenant Thornton, I don’t know who you think you are, but you’re playing way out of your league. Don’t you know who we are? We’re the CIA, and no matter how cute you think you are with your Wi-Fi-blocking devices and drone, you’re no match for us. So you might as well bend over and kiss your ass good-bye now—because before morning, you’re going to be a dead man.”

  As if to say farewell, the drone swung around and moved to the back of the van. A small door on the front of the drone opened and fired what looked like a dart with a rubber tip. The projectile attached itself to the side of the van.

  The ping noise that the dart made prompted Elmo to laugh even harder.

  The drone then flew up and sailed back toward the house.

  Elmo was admiring the peaceful night sky beyond the drone when an explosion from the main house rocked the night. He was in the middle of a curse when the van exploded.

  At the edge of the woods, Tucker stopped when he heard the two explosions and realized what had happened. Furious, he returned to the woods into which he had seen the dark figure disappear. Bringing his rifle up to his shoulder, he said, “Okay, Thornton! That’s it. I’m going to kill you—all of you! First, I’m going to start with skinning your dog alive.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “Who did that?” Jessica asked when their Ferrari came upon the van engulfed in flames. “Nigel or Gnarly?”

  Murphy pressed his foot down onto the gas pedal to speed through the open gate.

  After determining that the house was clear of intruders, Nigel unlocked the panic room. Arming themselves with the guns that were stored inside the room, Sarah and Tristan made their way upstairs. They reached the main level just in time to hear Jessica scream upon seeing that the kitchen was engulfed in flames.

  During the renovations, the kitchen walls had been reinforced to prevent such a blast from spreading throughout the house. While the blocks had been unable to prevent smoke damage, they had been able to contain the flames.

  “My kitchen! Nigel blew up my beautiful kitchen!” Jessica said.

  “I apologize, Jessica, but the use of lethal force was necessary to terminate the invasion,” Nigel said.

  Trying to comprehend the extend of the damage, Jessica held her hands to her head while turning around. “But did you have to blow up my kitchen? Couldn’t you have just hit them over the head with a frying pan and locked them in the pantry?”

  Spotting Tristan, she charged across the room. Before she could tackle her brother, Murphy intercepted her and lifted her off her feet. “You did this! You booby trapped our home!” Twisting in her husband’s arms in an effort to escape, she yelled, “I’m telling Dad!”

  “Contrary to what your emotions are communicating to you, Jessica,” Nigel said, “lethal force was required to terminate the intruders’ mission, which was to kill you and all occupants on site. I have downloaded the assailants’ communication with their leader from the command center in the van and stored them on my hard drive. They have already been backed up off site and copies have been sent to CO.”

  Sensing that Jessica had moved beyond the shock and no longer wanted to do bodily harm to Tristan, Murphy set her down. “Who gave the orders?” he asked Nigel. “Do you have that name from the recordings?”

  “Camille Jurvetson.”

  “Who’s that?” Sarah asked.

  “A traitor.” Noticing that Tristan and Sarah were undressed, Murphy asked, “Are you two okay? Maybe you’d like to put some clothes on before the emergency and fire fighters get here?”

  Getting over her shock, Jessica interrupted their response. “Where are the dogs? Don’t tell me they got caught in a cross fire.”

  “Newman is downstairs watching the presidential debate, which is rather ugly,” Nigel said. “Based on the guidelines set up by the FCC for family viewing, the content presented in the presidential debate is not appropriate for a lifeform of Newman’s age. I have tried to change the station, but he objects when I do so.”

  “Where are Spencer and Gnarly?” Jessica asked.

  “Gnarly is leading the surviving assassin down to the river,” Nigel said. “Spencer was safe in the guest cottage, but Gnarly moved him. Based on Gnarly’s recent movements, I have concluded that he is setting a trap.”

  “Gnarly’s gone rogue!” Murphy dropped down to one knee and extracted his backup weapon from an ankle holster. “Nigel, why didn’t you tell us that?”

  “I just did,” Nigel said, “Did you not hear me, Murphy?”

  Murphy ran out the door. Jessica pulled her small handgun out of her purse and, clattering in her high heels, followed him.

  “We’re coming with you.” Tristan, with Sarah directly behind him, ran downstairs to the home theater to find their shoes.

  Receiving no answer to his question, Nigel asked, “Murphy, would you like me to adjust my volume so that you may hear me better?”

  After midnight, the woods were enveloped in complete darkness. It was only with the assistance of night goggles that Tucker was able to make out the German shepherd’s form darting behind a tree or scurrying out from behind a bush or a shrub before they finally reached the riverbank.

  The footpath ran along a steep, rocky ledge high up above a rapid portion of the Potomac River.

  “Where are you, you mutt?” Peering through the sights of his semiautomatic with his finger on the trigger, Tucker scoured the trees and rocks for the dog that he had come to realize had killed his brother.

  A high-pitched yap gave away the dog’s location.

  Anticipating the sweet taste of revenge, Tucker sprang around a boulder and saw a young Shetland sheepdog squirming with excitement. With her tail wagging, she seemed genuinely happy to see him.

  Lowering the gun, he asked, “What are you so happy about?”

  He didn’t care who she was or to whom she belonged. At that moment, all he wanted to do was kill someone or something.

  A blue dog would do.

  He raised the gun and took aim. His finger was on the trigger when he heard a roar from high up above him. He was in the midst of turning to look up when Gnarly’s body collided with his, sending them both plunging over the ledge and down into the rapids.

  Murphy broke out through the woods just in time to see Gnarly and the gunman hit the churning water.

  “Gnarly’s in the rapids!” Tearing off his suit jacket and kicking off his shoes, Murphy yelled back to Jessica, who was running as fast as she could in her high heels. She reached the riverbank as he dove into the river.

  Seeing her master, Spencer galloped up the path to join her. Squinting down into the dark river, Jessica tried to pick out Murphy and Gnarly in the fast-moving water. She was still looking when Tristan and Sarah reached her side.

  “Where’s Murphy?” Sarah asked.

  “He jumped in after Gnarly,” Jessica said.

  “What about the gunman?” Tristan asked.

  “There!” Sarah pointed to where a man with a knife in his hand was fighting the current to make his way to Murphy. Seemingly unaware of the danger, Murphy was trying to swim toward Gnarly, who was paddling as hard as he could to get to the shore. The dog’s progress was hampered by the current smashing him against the rocks.

  “I’ll get Gnarly!” Tristan said while running down the shore to get cl
oser to where Gnarly was about to be washed over the falls. “Try to tell Murphy to watch out for that guy!” He dove into the water.

  Screaming and waving their arms to warn Murphy of the danger making its way to him, Sarah and Jessica ran along the riverbank.

  Through the roar of the rapids swirling around him, Murphy finally heard Sarah’s voice calling out the word “killer.” He saw her and Jessica pointing to an area behind him. Taking his attention off of Gnarly, he turned in time to see that the man was riding a wave that was about to come down on him. Murphy saw the flash of a knife slicing through the water. After diving underwater, Murphy grasped a rock and held on to it, hoping that Tucker would sail past him. As his attacker flowed by him, Murphy kicked him in the ribs, sending the middle of his back into a rock. Murphy hoped that if he hit the rock hard enough, he would drop the knife.

  Not caring who was the good guy or the bad guy, the river washed both Murphy and his assailant downstream.

  Exhausted from paddling against the current, Gnarly had lost all fight, and the swift current plunged him into a rock. After bouncing off of the rock and back into the swift current, he was carried toward the falls. Determined not to let his canine brother down, Tristan grasped Gnarly with both arms, rolled him over, and held him to his chest as the two of them rode the current together—and plunged down into the water below.

  At the other end of the falls, Sarah and Jessica joined hands. Jessica anchored herself to the shore by digging her high heels into the mud, and Sarah waded out into the river to catch Tristan and Gnarly when they floated by.

  Tristan tucked Gnarly under his arm and reached out to grab Sarah’s hand. With what little strength he had left and Sarah’s and Jessica’s help, he dragged Gnarly to shore.