“Okay.”
I lifted the first tube out again, and put it on the seat beside her.
“Pick out a round or two…” She was already choosing. There appeared to be two types of missile. How to tell which one did what was just a guessing game for me, but Evie was more certain. She picked three rounds. Two from the top, and one from the bottom.
“Let me see that light for a second, Jeffry?”
I passed her the MiniMag, and she went over the missiles carefully, then changed one of the top ones for one of the bottom ones. After that she gave the launcher a quick once-over. Apparently, that was enough to satisfy her, because then she handed back the flashlight.
“Do you have any idea what type of missile rounds you’ve got there?”
She smiled wickedly.
“I believe I do, Major.”
“Fair enough. Everyone get ready now. Two minutes to departure.”
All three of us, Ronnie, Evie, and myself, busied ourselves checking our weapons and mentally preparing for the assault on what should be an empty house. I dug through my bag until I found the silencer for the H&K. Why I bothered, I have no idea. I had a feeling the rocket launcher would be noisy enough to make all of the handguns sound like popcorn popping on the stove in comparison.
Two minutes later, all four of us exited the van at the same time through three doors. Evie and I used the sliding side door facing the sidewalk and all the dark houses. We’d parked here because we were on a block where everyone was asleep. At least that was the theory. No lights on, sleeping or nobody home. But you never knew. We took the bundle of body armour with us.
As we stepped out of the van we all walked straight into the dozen rows of corn planted between the two houses on either side. Single file between the rows, we walked without speaking. About halfway through the corn, I stopped, and everyone behind me did too. No choice really, unless they were to push through the corn to the next row.
I took Therese by the hand, and reaching behind my back I pulled out my new backup piece, the Glock .40 calibre compact automatic, slipping it into the hand I was holding.
“Keep this pointed at the ground. If any one comes here looking for you before we get back, judge the situation. You should know if it’s someone who lives in either of these houses by the way they walk here and the way they’re dressed. If it’s not one of them, then please make sure it’s not the Police before you shoot them, Okay?”
She made a face at me.
“I do not just decide one minute, oh, Therese, shoot them if you must, it is not such a thing so big to make a fussiness about it. Oh no, Jeffry. You cannot make me do this. I cannot shoot people. C’est pas possible!”
The interesting part was that she made no effort to give me back the gun. There was a reason, I just had to push the right button.
“If it’s not me you see Therese, it will probably be the bad guys. The ones who killed John.”
Her face changed right away, looking almost hopeful now. It was hard for me to keep a straight face. This kid would shoot the bastard that had killed John, or any of his cohorts without even thinking about it one time, never mind twice. That was the button, revenge.
I felt morally tainted by exploiting her emotions at a time when she needed counseling more than a field assignment. But the end result I required warranted any and every fabrication I could think of if necessary. I was bringing her back home with me to Toronto when the mission was accomplished, and she was going to walk through Customs at Pearson International on her own steam. That was a done deal as far as I was concerned. Whatever it took to accomplish that would be achieved. One way or another.
“C’est vrai?”
“Yes, most likely.”
“Hmm. So, to shoot this, what do I do?”
Then again, it was almost time to leave Zurich and we’d just started our ‘Operation Thomas Dawson”. This had to start moving faster, and the players had to be uncovered. That was what would allow us to close the whole show down permanently, and by ‘Official Consensus’ of any and all governments involved. That had been confirmed in the last communique from Walter. No pressure, of course. Just save the dignity of what was beginning to look like victims of some serious skullduggery. The only way to do that was to hunt them down and kill them. They were stone killers, and they didn’t give a toss about anything except their goals. Killing off anyone associated with them, but not part of the ‘Inner Circle’, seemed to be part of their modus operandi. Back to the moment.
“Just point and pull the trigger. That’s why I said ‘point it towards the ground’. And don’t keep your finger on the trigger. Don’t touch the trigger until you’re going to fire. If you do have to fire, the trick is to be fast. Shoot fast and move fast, never slow down or stop. Never! Got it?”
“Oui.”
“When I come back for you, I’ll call your name softly in a French accent. From that you should be able to tell that there’s a Montrealer coming to see you. We won’t be long, twenty minutes, maybe. Remember, that many minutes can seem like a long time when you’re tense, or too afraid to be effective in your own defense. Just relax, breathe deep and slow, and be silent. Do as I told you and everything will be fine, Okay? I will come back for you.”
She flashed a grin at me. Fast. It was there, then it was gone.
“Bon. Prends soin des femmes et de toi-même.” She tucked herself in between the rows of corn, effectively disappearing. The rest of us kept going. I had to process this relationship and straighten everything out for her. I figured she was suffering reverse Stockholm syndrome, when in fact she was clutching at a straw in a hurricane. Me. I could have a daughter her age. But I didn’t.
All I had was one really good date with Cynthia. Maybe I was making more out of all of this than I needed to. When the mission was done, everything would fall into place. It always did. Then there was the promise. There were going to be no boxes and bodybags for this team. I swore it to myself one more time, as I relayed the final instructions.
Ronnie was to stay behind under cover of the trees and hedges, watching for danger from both sides simultaneously, the van side and the house side, and staying in radio contact with both Evie and I at all times, unless instructed by me to do otherwise. Receive only. Therese had contact with Ronnie on a different band, two way comms, but no reception from either Evie or I.
The next street over we came out between two houses placed quite widely apart for the area we were in. There were mature trees and large hedges everywhere, so it was no problem getting to the street proper. Less distance away than any of us could throw a baseball was the safehouse. We had approached undetected by anyone—so far. There may have been nobody in the house. Shoot. What in the hell was I worried about? If there turned out to be any danger, there was always our ace card, Evie. She had insisted that the launchers be deployed. So she got her wish. She only had three rounds, but I had the feeling they would do the trick whatever the situation. Then things got really shitty.
I wanted both Evie and Ronnie to put on the body armour. Including the cowls. Or ‘balaclavas of blood’, as Evie put it. I had washed the insides of the headpieces with the fresh, unopened box of ‘Wet Ones’ that I’d found in the back of the van. They were pretty clean.
Clean enough to use according to me, but ‘unfit for use’ according to Ronnie. I think they were both disgusted about exposing the hair on their heads, as well as their faces to the mess that had been on the inside of them both. I insisted on all other pieces. They complied. Not cheerily or anything, but they did it.
While they got dressed up with the armour, Ronnie tried to keep as much as possible under her clothes, while Evie was going for the ‘total body’ look.
I dashed through the little park, which was effectively what the space was like, to the side of the house on my left. That one was built closer to the street than the other, and in Switzerland, it's common to find the outside water tap near to or at the back of the house, on one side or the other. Luck
was riding with me tonight because it was on the side I checked first, the side facing the park. I took the risk, and the time, to wash both cowls completely. It seemed like the water was as loud as a small river going over a five-foot drop, but maybe that was just me. I was there and back before the women had finished dressing.
Standing in front of them, I put on first one cowl, then the other, taking them both off immediately after the demonstration.
“There. Clean. Put them on. No discussion.”
I turned and headed towards the street, keeping close to the greenery that afforded us cover all the way to the sidewalk.
That’s where I was waiting when Evie lumbered up beside me, a grey ghost in the darkness.
“I’ll get you for this Jeffry.”
“What? I thought they were supple, and light, and all that. ‘Super Tech’, that’s what you said.”
“It’s too big!”
“Well it works the same. Subject closed.
Now, as planned, I go in through the front door. That will be the least expected move if we were trying to stay under cover. You’re going to confine all of your actions to the rear. Take your previous corner position at the back, and when you hear me enter the front, I want you, on my move, through the rear door. How you do it is of no consequence to me as long as you do it quietly. We need time to go over this place. Once we’ve cleared the house, I check the garage, you watch the corner position, while I get the others.”
“Right.”
“Okay… you get the first move. Luck and speed Evie.”
There was a small pause, and in the darkness, I could barely discern a movement of her head, inside that bloody great cowl-slash-balaclava thing. The guy I’d taken it from had had a particularly large head. Life is sure funny, isn’t it?
“No sweat, Major. I’ll see you inside.”
With that, she separated herself from the cover I was using, and moved across the side walk and asphalt. Slipping into the shadow of the house in seconds, and she was gone. She had moved in a swift gliding motion and had been virtually invisible on the asphalt of the street itself, as her suit was the same colour.
I waited about ten seconds, and there was still no signal. Then it came.
“One in place.”
I stepped out from the cover of the hedge next to the sidewalk and casually strolled to the other side of the street, and down a few doors. I had the front door key in my hand the whole time. As I reached the walkway I turned and I was at the door in a second, and the key was in and turning, and the door was opening, and I called out ‘Honey, I’m home!’.
At the same time, I used my outstretched left foot to close the door, and I was rolling into the room. The door was shut but there was some light coming in from the streetlamp right outside the house, despite having the curtains closed. The room was empty. I came up from a crouch to a run, and hitting the light switch showed that to be true. I rebounded from the light switch and kept on going. My mind was thinking about another time and another place, but my actions and reactions, at this stage, didn’t count on upper level functions to operate. It was way down, where the beast dwells.
I bounced and rolled my way through the entire house in less than four minutes. There was nobody home. I came out the last door and met with Evie, standing in the middle of the room in full regalia, holding a loaded ‘Super Tech’, unquote, missile launcher. They used to call them ‘Shoulder Mount’, but these, you could fire one-handed, between your legs. She looked at once very scary, and very comical. I strangled my urge for humour, and gave her a straight “All clear.”
She nodded back at me, and turned to go back outside, to take up her position on the corner of the house, where she could see any probable action. I followed. There was still the garage.
Evie took her position on the corner of the house, blending in well with the stone cladding that rose about five feet from the ground before running into brick. Evie crouched down on one knee, making sure to take advantage of the natural cover of the grey stone. She held her launcher cradled in her left arm, no doubt hoping to use it before the night was done.
I headed across the back lawn on a diagonal line from Evie to the door leading into the garage. When I was beside the door, I carefully lifted the remote door opener out of the small zippered pocket on the inside of my jacket, near the bottom right. I had unzipped the jacket as I walked up the front steps. I had full access to my arsenal. I was feeling a bit like a walking weapons factory, what with all the new additions. Laser targeting sights, micro grenades, Samurai sword, if I went on adding to the collection, by tomorrow I’d need one of those robot caddy’s that the Japanese are so fond of, only mine wouldn’t be carrying golf clubs. I could see the image in my mind. ‘Well C3PO, this is an interesting shot. Would you recommend the Flash Grenade, or perhaps just a plain old incendiary? Oh! Really? Just the H&K?
I hit the button on the remote, triggering the garage door on the lane side. I gave it three seconds exactly. That would be enough to engage the attention of any lurkers. The garage door was only about eight or ten inches off the ground when I went through the door at the back. Inside, tuck and roll. I knew before I came to a stop that the garage was empty, and a quick scan in the light from the opening door confirmed it. I let the door open all the way, and then left it open. The mechanism was almost silent, a job well done. It must be screw driven, as opposed to the chain type.
I was back out the rear door and at Evie’s side in a couple of seconds.
“All clear. The door is open, I’m going to get the team and drive the van inside. Hold here.”
“Yes, Major.”
“And stop calling me Major.”
I was up the path and strolling across the street to the little park in another few seconds. The first one I ran into was Ronnie. I would have missed her if she hadn’t stepped out from behind her cover. She’d chosen a small bush that was in the shadow of one of the larger trees. Pretty good.
I filled her in, and she came with me to get Therese and the van. Therese was glad to see us, but a little bit of regret showed. She’d wanted a chance to shoot someone. Not so very healthy, in my mind. I never wanted to shoot anyone. It just seemed that there were certain people in this world that carried my tag, and when we met, I punched the tag. It was all just business as usual. Saving the free world yet once again. That’s what you tell yourself before you start out on one of these bloody adventures, but you never know where it will lead until you get there. Such fun.
I drove again, and both Therese and Ronnie kept down in the back until I closed the garage door after us. I sent both of them to the house with Evie, and stayed behind for a moment. I had a small warning signal to set.
I took one of the concussion grenades from my arsenal, and using a small roll of one hundred pound-test fishing line, I rigged the car door to the grenade. There would be no silent access from this direction. Then I hot-footed it into the house, where I found everyone in the kitchen having a cup of hot chocolate. It seemed like a good idea to me too, so I joined them. Talk about whiners. Wow.
“So where are all these bad guys mister ‘I’ve been there & done that’?”
“Evie, if you hadn’t had to put that suit on, you wouldn’t be griping at all. And if we had run into the bad guys, you would have been safe, even if they’d gotten the drop on you. That was the way I wanted it. With you coming out on top, no matter what. I was wrong. Good. Who the hell wants a fire-fight when they could be getting some zee’s? So drink your hot chocolate and quit picking at it, Okay?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
She spoke with a grumpy tone, but I think it was something else to do with me that was making her edgy. I didn’t want to think about that right now.
Therese was sitting quietly, sipping her tea, and staring off into a distance that only she could see.
Both Ronnie and Evie had stripped out of the suits, and I heard the shower going. Evie looked at me and for the record informed me of the priority sequence.
/> “When the Colonel’s done, it’s my turn, then Therese. Then you.”
“You said that like you’re sorry I get to have a shower at all.”
“No. No, I’m just…on edge, that’s all.”
“I knew you were on edge. There’s a great bloody neon sign flashing against the dark cloud over your head.”
“I apologize.”
“You don’t have to. Not to me, anyway. You’re good Evie. If you stay with this work, you’ll be very effective at your job. If you want to talk about what’s truly on your mind, I’ll listen. Just let me know, Okay?”
She looked up at me and slowly turned to look at Therese, then back at me.
“Another time maybe.”
Just as she said that, the sound of the shower stopped, and she got to her feet.
“My turn.” As she started to walk away from the table she stopped and turned back. Motioning to the launcher which was laid out on the table she said, “If you have to, it’s dead simple, just point and shoot. But remember to drop to the floor the second you push the firing stud. And make sure there’s nobody behind you when you use it. I think the blow-back is going to be a bitch.” Then she left the room heading for the shower.
It was as good a time as any I suppose. I got up and started in the kitchen. I didn’t know for sure what I was looking for, but I knew I would know it when I saw it. I went over that kitchen inch by inch. Nothing but kitchen. Picking the launcher up from the table, I motioned for Therese to follow me, and as we left the room I turned off the light.
I showed Therese how to hold the launcher, explained about the firing stud, and the blow-back and all that. When she nodded consent, I passed it to her. She cradled it carefully in her arms, and followed me around as I searched. The hallway. The foyer. The living room. All closets. Nothing. Every room I checked, when I was done I turned out the lights. The ground floor was dark now, except for the room we were in, the dining room. It was a typical dining room, the kind you rarely use. The kitchen would be the most probable place for meals, as big as it was, and having such a large table. Large table. Hmm.
The Diamond Dust on Dragonfly Wings: A Jeffry Claxton Mystery Novel Page 63