Blind Rage: Team Red, Book 4

by T. Hammond

  For all the commotion below, it was relatively peaceful in the house. Bas, Henry and I continued our glass of wine ritual in front of the fire each evening before bed. It was wonderful having Henry on the “family” level. He blended in seamlessly with our daily routines, and I loved the older man’s quirky humor and quiet competence. The Mustangs referred to him as Jeeves, a testament to his efficiency and the deftness with which he handled logistics. I quickly realized Henry was the eye of the storm. No matter what chaos revolved around the house, a person could come and sit with him for peaceful conversation, to vent, or seek advice.

  With the sudden influx of so many people, it was soon apparent Henry and Bas’ modest cooking skills would not be up to the task of feeding such a large group. The Army soldiers were self-contained, bringing their own food and shelter, but the addition of eighteen adults taxed our resources. Man cannot live on pizza take-out alone. Which is not to say they didn’t make a gallant effort.

  Enter, Mrs. Russell Thomas: earth-mother, goddess, homemaker, sharpshooter, and eagle-eyed den mother. A dichotic combination of Tomb Raider and Mrs. Cleaver; kick-ass woman with a spatula or a handgun, her attitude hinting the spatula could be used for multiple purposes, from benign, to lethal, to… well, I hesitated to carry that thought any further. What goes on behind closed doors is none of my business.

  Gwyn Thomas’ arrival last week heralded the beginning of an organizational whirlwind. My first glimpse of the fair Gwyneth, courtesy of mind-sight, positively floored me. She was the exact opposite of her homely, geek-like husband. An Amazon, standing a statuesque six foot tall, she towered over many of the men, including her husband. Her blond hair was sculpted into a classic upsweep, and she dressed in a casual 50’s Hollywood-starlet chic which emphasized her hourglass figure without appearing tasteless. If she had dark hair, I would have likened her to Sophia Loren, with similar dark eyes and a full-lipped smile. Gwyn was a beauty. She also possessed the sharp, methodical mind of a four-star general. Her directives were always couched as sweet requests, but no one ever doubted she expected compliance.

  Meals were now prepared in bulk, thrice a week, portioned and stored in two additional refrigerators which would eventually end up at the Compound. For now, the fridges were hooked up in the garage, and stocked with labeled Tupperware containers, handily popped into the microwave. A list of weekly chores was tacked on the bulletin board downstairs, so each Mustang was now pitching in to help with mundane tasks such as laundry, vacuuming, and kitchen clean up. Such was the plan, anyway. Gregg LaValley, one of the guys on the training project, was making a killing as some of the Mustangs were paying him fifty bucks a shot to do their chores. I’d heard he socked away over three hundred dollars his first week.

  At Bastian’s invitation, Russ and Gwyn were staying at the furnished rental house he and David leased when they first arrived in town last July. Technically, Bas lived there alone, but even before David’s betrayal, Bastian spent more nights here than in his house thirty minutes away. There were five months remaining on his rental agreement, and Russ insisted on assuming the contract so he, his wife, and possibly her spatula, could have a private escape. Bas had made his intentions clear, he was not planning to go back to that house.

  Ken and Janey returned from their holiday in the Catskills. Janey was shocked and angry by the pre-holiday drama, and scolded me for not saying anything about David’s deceit before she left on vacation. Of course, Ken pulled me aside later, thanking me for allowing him time with Janey before I told her; he realized she would have insisted on staying to show support. After I fully explained the Christmas Eve drama and David’s abrupt departure, Janey indulged in a creative string of swearwords—who knew there was such a thing as a mothereffingdingleberryfartface? She calmed after I divulged Marcia’s terminal cancer and Wesley’s recent hospital stay, once again becoming the soft-hearted, empathetic friend I’ve known and loved since kindergarten.

  Janey and I discussed Marcia’s imminent arrival and needs for hospice. She volunteered to research caregivers, and had, with Ken’s help, already outfitted the guest room to maximize Marcia’s comfort. David was a shit for not telling me he was married, but Marcia and Wes would be welcomed to my home and integrated into our extended family. A special bed had already been leased and delivered to the guest room, along with a list of miscellaneous items recommended by the hospice center. David would be right there with Marcia, in the spare bed, to ease her if she had difficulties. A nurse would be on hand to greet the group when they arrived Sunday, to assess Marcia’s condition and the level of care needed. We would adjust accordingly to make her final weeks as comfortable, and stress-free, as possible.

  Bas and I never came out and said anything directly to Janey about our growing closeness, but it wasn’t hard to figure out. Each evening after Bas, Henry and I had our wine by the fire, Henry would retire to his room, and Bas and I would snuggle down on the sofa to talk until we fell asleep. We hadn’t slept in our own beds for two weeks, preferring to hold each other every night. Although we slept fully clothed in the common room of a house with more than twenty people, there was a growing sense of intimacy between us. We knew the slow, steady beat of each other’s hearts and the deep cadence of each other’s indrawn breath, the scent of the other’s skin. I detected the note of satisfaction in Janey’s tone when she recognized her brother’s increasing role in my life.

  Ken was assigned modified, part-time duties for the rest of the month. It wasn’t fair to have him picking up, cleaning, and cooking for our entourage. He didn’t seem to mind helping Gwyn, or lending a hand where needed. In fact, he took over the kitchen each morning for breakfast preparation, whipping up quiches, piles of pancakes, and assorted pastries and biscuits. He also insisted on taking care of the upper family level. I was glad Ken enjoyed the work, shrugging off my concerns about Bas and Henry’s rooms to clean.

  So much had happened in sixteen days. I’m looking forward to “Girl’s Night Out” tonight with Janey, a few friends, and me… oh, and a couple Wild Horses escorting. Janey’s all excited to tell me about her vacation and her anecdotes of Ken’s crazy family.

  Two bodies tearing through the flap on the dog door signaled an end to my peaceful contemplation.

  Chapter Three

  ** Morning, Thursday - Jan 10th **

  “Open. Crumpet,” I ordered, my enunciation perfect and clear. A mechanical voice echoed back to me, Open crumpet.

  “Good, Teresa. That command gets you into your PreClan email account. Use the commands you’ve already taught your software to maneuver your way through opening, saving, deleting, and replying to each one.” Bas placed a kiss on my shoulder, reaching over me to do something on the keyboard.

  Every morning for the past week, Bastian patiently sat with me for hours as we trained my voice command computer, a Christmas gift from both Bastian and David. My new laptop resides in my room on a restored, antique desk Bas selected as a personal present from him. With my needs in mind, PreClan Video designed a program for blind users. David had undertaken development of the software code, modifying a base platform he purchased the rights for. Bas then performed his end-user magic by blending it into the voice command function, and utilizing commands which allowed it to not only recognize the user’s voice, but respond to a wider array of instructions than any program currently on the market. I am still learning my way around the main set-up program, training it to recognize my voice and inflections. It has been a tedious process, but Bastian is a patient instructor.

  The men, being paranoid and freakishly security-conscious, set up the computer to learn my voice, in combination with crazy-ass commands like “chuck it” for delete, and “sesame” for open a file (yes, I pointed out this is a bagel topping, but Bas thought it was funny). I was using code words to access my basic programs: “crumpet” for my email account, “alphabet” for my word processing program, and other crazy word combinations. Personally, I thought the guys were having fun at my expense
. Sigh.

  I have to admit, I enjoyed the freedom of checking my personal email, and dictating my first letter. Never a great typist, I had been dependent on Ken or Janey to help with computer research and correspondence, so I was feeling more independent already. This morning, Bas set me up with a secure email account within the PreClan domain. The Mustangs were using it to send interoffice memos, and confidential information regarding security and training schedules. Since I didn’t attend the meetings, but was affected by the policies and procedures, I was getting cc’d on a lot of emails. With a few voice commands, the software’s sexy, suggestive male voice (which sounded suspiciously like Bastian’s) read my mail to me.

  “Check. Greenwich,” I pronounced.

  “The time is nine-twenty-four a.m.,” the computer relayed.

  “All done,” I directed, listening to the program shut off immediately with the command.

  “We still have a few more commands to go, Babe,” Bas said, leaning over my shoulder to place a nibbling kiss below my ear. Opportunist.

  “No time today, Bastian, I have a busy social calendar,” I teased. “I’m taking Russ, and the Team Red detail, for a hike; my escorts should be here in a few minutes. Red and I are going to demonstrate the mind-sight. Russ suggested we also test our current vision and speaking ranges to see what our distances are before our mental connections drop off. Then, around one-ish, Red and I have an appointment at the police department. Gil has a few cold case evidence boxes for us to go through.” I turned my face slightly, placing my cheek against his forehead. There was a hint of peppermint on his breath, giving me a strong clue as to where the candy cane stash was disappearing to. “Hopefully, we’ll be done by four, and I’ll come back and get ready for Girl’s Night with Janey, Jinx, and Tara.”

  Bas drew me into a hug, my back cradled by the impressive width of his chest. “I can’t believe you guys are letting Jason come with you. You do realize, whether he dresses as Jason or Jinx, he has hangy-down parts, right?”

  “Shhh,” I whispered. “I think he has more girl-genes than I do.” After a moment’s consideration, I added, “It’s disturbing you’re not only referring to a penis as a ‘hangy-down part,’ but you are referring to Jason’s boy bits in the first place.” I arched an inquiring brow, glancing over my shoulder to aim it in Bas’ direction.

  Ignoring the reference to penises, he punned, “There’s nothing deficient in your jeans, Babe. I’m simply jealous he gets to tag along.”

  “Liar,” I challenged. “You would be so bored after five minutes of Janey chattering on about Ken’s family dinners, and the sight-seeing trips. Whereas Jason will be asking questions about what she wore to each event.”

  He groaned in mock pain, but I could hear the smile in his voice when he replied, “I can’t say I envy you, Babe. My sister hasn’t stopped talking since she got back. Feminine assets aside,” Bas said with a definite leer, “you’re not much of a girly-girl, so I assume you’ll be doing a lot of zoning-out when those two get going. Fashion and gossip won’t hold your attention for long.”

  My smile was triumphant. “Why do you suppose I asked Jason along in the first place? All I’ll be required to do is nod occasionally, sip margaritas, and ask one or two questions about the flight—if I can get a word in edgewise,” I added ruefully. “I love spending time with Janey, but her emphasis on the small details can wear me down. Besides, Jason promised to keep her on target about her trip, and said he’d steer her away from questions regarding David.”

  “Ahh, you didn’t tell me he was invited to provide distraction. Well played, Babe.”

  “Hey, Beautiful! We’re waiting for you downstairs. Let’s go! Let’s go!” Red followed his message with a rare bark of excitement from the bottom of the staircase. Not only did he enjoy our daily walks, he was thrilled to give the Team Red men a demonstration of our abilities. We hadn’t told any of the new members about the vision sharing, although they had been through a quick demonstration of mind-speaking yesterday. Our Team Red detail thought the mind-speak made us an extraordinary pair, and the men were excited to be part of our covert activities. Like Red, I could hardly wait until they got full disclosure.

  “On my way, Red,” I called out, loudly enough for him to hear, but still barely above a normal speaking tone. To Bas, I explained, “Everyone is waiting on me. We’re heading toward the fish hatchery. We will probably be gone about two hours.”

  Bastian pulled me to a standing position, tucking me into the warmth of his body. “You won’t have time to hike, Babe, if you have to meet up with Gil in three hours.”

  “Yeah, I know. Russ is taking us down the hill separately in a couple of the SUVs. Red will be in the front vehicle and we’ll see if we can get some distance measurements. Red thinks our range is farther apart now, so we’ll test out the limits on the mind-speak and the vision sharing. Dex thinks we may be up to a mile on the mind-speak.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up. We tested the range less than three weeks ago, and you were at half-a-mile on the mind-speaking. Going to a mile is an exponentially large leap for such a short period of time.”

  I stretched up, locating his mouth as I zeroed in on the scent of coffee and Christmas candy. We shared a heated kiss, interrupted by Red’s paws pounding up the stairs. “Tereeeeeesa! What’s taking you so… oh, you guys are kissing again. Come on, you can make out any time. We’re wasting daylight!”

  “Jeez, Red. Daylight started a few hours ago. It won’t be dark until four-thirty or so, not that it matters to me,” I explained logically, swooping upward to collect another really hot smooch from Bastian’s smiling mouth.

  “Get a move on, Babe,” Bas laughed, giving me a playful swat on the ass after he spun me around and aimed me at the doorway. Red took a position at my left thigh to nudge me along. “See you later, kids. Have fun showing off for the guys.”

  “Oh wait,” I told Red, coming to a full stop, “I forgot my coffee cup.” It was woefully empty, but that could be remedied quickly enough.

  “Dex has a travel mug ready for you in the vehicle,” Red sighed dramatically at my delay. “I’m taking the SUV with Russ, Eddie, and Fritz. You’re in the vehicle with Dex, Frost, and Jaspar.” The head butt was far from subtle, but I continued willingly toward the stairs, having been assured of my java fix.

  “Step.” I reached for the railing, my body automatically adjusting to the top riser on the stairs, as Red continued to fill me in on the morning’s plans. “My vehicle will leave first, and mark the distance from your vehicle until I bark to let Fritz know we have reached the point where our vision sharing connection stops. I’ll wait until I’m in my vehicle before I go ‘lights on.’ If that’s okay with you. When I… last step…” he instructed absently, “when I can no longer maintain mind-sight, I’ll go ‘lights off’ and Fritz will travel farther away until the voice link drops, also. I’ll bark again to let them know.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” I said.

  “What sounds like a plan?” Eddie asked in his drawling, Boston accent.

  “Hey, Eddie,” I smiled in the direction of his voice. “Red was filling me in on our objectives for this morning. We’re looking forward to testing our distances.” Until we demonstrated the sight link, the newer members of our detail were led to assume we were able to extend our mind-speak link with a little concentrated effort, and that would be the second reading. We found Red was getting better at maintaining both links at once, but it was easier for him to concentrate if we did them individually.

  “Frost and Jaspar are here too. No one else is close by,” Red assured me.

  I greeted the other two men by name. “Where’s everyone else?”

  “Outside already,” Jaspar replied. “Dex and Fritz are our drivers today, so they’re scraping morning ice off the windshields, and getting the vehicles warmed up. Russ is re-checking GPS calibration so we can take measurements.”

  “Why aren’t we using the laser gun?” Red asked. I could hear th
e disappointment in his tone. He was probably looking forward to chasing the little red dot.

  “The laser gun won’t work with all these trees and the hilly terrain, Red. If our distance is over a mile now, the GPS information will give us a more accurate reading,” I explained. “I’m sure one of the guys would be happy to flash a laser pointer around in the snow for you later.”

  “I still find it amazing Red can actually communicate with you,” Eddie drawled. “I watch you two do it all the time, and I’m still dazed by it all.”

  “Prepare to be dazzled,” I boasted. “We have a few more secrets for the Team Red detail once we get to privacy down by the hatchery,” I teased.

  “Hey now! No giving away the surprise,” Russ mock-scolded from the direction of the front door. “Everyone ready? Teresa, did Red let you know what we are planning to do?”