by C. R. Daems
Before I could answer, the senator rushed by me and opened the door. "Replace that coward!" he shouted, his face scarlet. He looked on the verge of a stroke.
"How's your agent, Timothy?" I asked, ignoring the panting senator.
Timothy also ignored the senator. "Thanks to your suggestion, he has only minor flesh wounds. The shooter knew he wasn't going to get quick access and had only minutes until a response team would be on its way, so he left after only a brief exchange."
The senator looked to me. "Your career is over!"
"Senator, let's get something straight. I'm not here to protect the FBI. I'm not here to protect you or Mrs. Burns. My assignment is to protect your daughter, and she is safe." I took out my phone and hit one on my speed dial, feeling sorry for having to get Witton out of bed at this hour, but the issue couldn't wait. When I heard him mumble something, I handed the phone to the senator. "Senator, I have Witton on the phone."
He took the phone and walked around the room, ranting about me as he related the incident from his perspective. Eventually he handed the phone back to me with a scowl.
"I'll approve the company plane for you to get away from Senator Burns," Witton said, now awake. "Ann Marie will call you with the time of arrival and departure. Good night." The phone went dead.
Denise appeared in a pink robe and stood with her arms around Lexi.
"Mrs. Burns, Mr. Witton has approved the company plane to take you and Lexi to Boise."
Denise nodded and proceeded to make coffee and a chocolate drink for Lexi.
When everyone was settled down, the senator spoke. "I seem to be the only one who thinks you didn't do your job," he said looking at me. It wasn't a friendly look but the color in his face had returned to normal.
"The Kazak program was established specifically to protect important people like you from being assassinated. To ensure a high degree of success, the Kazak is responsible for his or her assigned individual—nothing else—not the police, FBI, other family members, or bystanders."
"That's ... ridiculous. Stupid," Burns said but not quite as loudly as before.
"Based on the simple scenario you have in your mind, it would appear stupid. I run to the door, open it, shoot the Assassin, and save the FBI man in the hallway. However, another possible scenario is I run to the door, open it—get shot, since the FBI man is already dead and the shooter is waiting. He walks into Lexi's bedroom..." I didn't finish it, not wanting to scare Lexi.
Denise's hand flew to her mouth.
Lexi nodded her head several times in apparent agreement. She might not have liked fighting, but she wasn't stupid.
"I'm scared," Burns said. "They're threatening my family."
"You have good reason to be apprehensive. But you have the best protection the government can provide for your daughter. I'm not just security, but security specifically designed to stop Assassins."
* * *
"Welcome aboard, Mrs. Burns and Miss Lexi," Kathryn said in her normal cheerful voice as we entered the plane. "I'm Kathryn, your flight attendant. I'll be serving lunch in an hour, but if you would like a snack or something to drink before then let me know."
"Mother, look at this. And we are the only passengers," Lexi said, walking past Kathryn into the interior.
"Do you always fly like this?" Denise asked, choosing a seat across the aisle from me.
"Only when they need to get me someplace in a hurry, or like now when it benefits the security of the client."
"Seems a strange profession for a woman. Not the FBI, but this Kazak group. You're on your own facing Assassins and it seems as though it's kill or be killed. Doesn't that bother you?"
"I'd rather think of it as saving lives, like that of your daughter, Lexi. And that is very satisfying."
Denise nodded and relaxed, watching Lexi change seats every ten minutes. She even managed to get a quick peek into the cockpit.
At the airport, Ann Marie had a limo waiting. The limo used State Highway 20 toward the foothills of Boise, turned onto Warm Springs Road, then lost me using several side streets to Castle Rock Circle, a dead-end street. The directions didn't really matter since I had no plans to drive a car or even to ride a bicycle.
I didn't like Castle Rock Circle since the house was visible from Quarry View Way and bordered directly on Castle Rock Park—a large open area which gave a sniper a lot of choices.
When we pulled into the driveway of the two-story house, two men exited a black Chevrolet Tahoe. Fortunately, I recognized Timothy and holstered my weapon.
"Hi, Megan. Carl and I have checked out the house. It's clean. I'll have two men on duty at all times. One to follow Mrs. Burns...and one for her daughter." He watched me closely, apparently not sure of the protocol.
"Hi, Tim. I don't mind an extra helping hand. I would like to know when they change shifts and to meet each agent. I'd also like each agent to understand that although I welcome their support, my only concern is Lexi."
"I'll brief everyone." He nodded and headed back to the car.
"Denise, before you get settled can you and Lexi give me a tour of the house? If there's trouble, I need to know where all the doors are and where they go, in addition to which bedrooms you occupy."
The house made me nervous. I didn't like the location, the number of windows and, I'd wager, multiple entrances. The tour proved me right. The house was nearly four thousand square feet—with a bedroom, two bathrooms, kitchen, and living, dining, and recreation rooms downstairs, and three bedrooms and two bathrooms upstairs.
"Well, what do you think, Megan?" Denise asked after we finished.
"I don't like the location or the house, but we have to work with what we have. The good news is the blinds on the windows are adequate so long as you keep them closed at night. Keep all the doors locked all the time. It won't stop anyone, but it will give me a second or two warning." I turned to face Lexi. "Lexi, you must keep me in sight at all times, even in the house. You can go about your normal activities, but I go along. You are in far less danger so long as I'm with you."
"You think someone will try to kill me?" she said in a whisper.
I didn't want to scare her, but she needed to understand the risks, as it would make her more likely to cooperate.
Denise stood shaking her head at me.
"Yes," I said. "Two men lost their daughters and blame your father. Although he wasn't to blame, they are in pain and want him to suffer like they are. You're right to be frightened, because these men are scary. But you and I are going to be the last two standing." I smiled and raised my hand for a high five.
Her frown slowly changed to a tentative smile, and she slapped my hand.
"Was that necessary?" Denise asked, looking and sounding angry.
"Yes. The better she understands the risk, the more likely she is to listen to me. I can't be watching her all the time and monitor the area as well. Besides, she's more likely to notice anything out of the ordinary than I am."
Denise decided she needed to go to the store for groceries and looked to me. I in turn looked to Lexi.
"Mom, I need to exercise. I'd like to go for a run." She looked to me with a crooked smile.
"Good, I could use the exercise." I moved my suitcase to Lexi's bedroom and we both changed into running clothes. "Where?" I asked.
"The Park. Once around is about a mile." She started for the back door.
"Key, remember? Keep all doors locked at all times," I said for both Lexi and Denise's benefit.
Lexi ran around the park five times, so I got a good look at the neighborhood. I noticed the FBI man on duty didn't join us. He either didn't see us leave or wasn't into running. We passed a lot of people walking or running for exercise, walking their dogs, and kids playing. I hoped our quick change of location would give me a few days to learn Lexi and her mother's routines before the thugs followed us to Boise.
* * *
Over the next several days Denise and her daughter got ready for the new school year: s
hopped for new clothes, school books and supplies, and registered. We also paid a visit to the school principal, Mrs. Sherwood, which proved amusing.
"Having a bodyguard in the classroom could be very disruptive, Mrs. Burns," Mrs. Sherwood said after Denise explained I would be accompanying Lexi to school.
"Not as disruptive as a gunman in the classroom shooting at young girls," I said.
"Couldn't you stay outside? Stop him before he comes in?"
"There will be an FBI man posted outside. That would be sufficient if there were only one entrance to the school. Is there?"
"Well, no. There are several. I think Lexi should stay out of school for the protection of the other children."
"Mrs. Sherwood, the senator and his family have been threatened. It could just be one of our citizens exercising what he thinks is his free speech or the person may just intend to throw paint on the senator's family car, or he may shoot at the house. Who knows? We are just exercising reasonable caution. This individual is not some local psychopath, so he's not out to kill the other children at school. He's mad at the senator." I paused to let her digest that. "Besides, are you going to tell an Idaho Senator his child can't attend school? Good luck."
"Well ..." She looked a bit nervous at the thought and looked to Denise and quickly away.
"I promise not to speak unless spoken to," I said, hiding my amusement.
Lexi turned her head and coughed in an excellent attempt not to laugh.
"The novelty will wear off in a day or two, and I will be ignored."
"So long as the classes aren't disrupted," she finally conceded after thinking about going up against the state's senator.
"Did you mean what you said to Mrs. Sherwood?" Denise asked when we were back in the car.
"Which part?"
"The minimal threat at school."
"Yes. But that doesn't mean I'm going to trust Lexi's wellbeing to an assumption about who, when, or where."
* * *
True to my prediction, I was the main attraction for the first couple of days. Each teacher wisely pointed out who I was and that Senator Burns's family had been threatened, which avoided a lot of questions and speculation. By the third day, except for some of the older kids who couldn't resist making wisecracks, the kids had found other things to gossip about.
The FBI drove Lexi and me to and from school each day, which Timothy and I agreed was better than Denise. Soccer practice started the second week, much to my annoyance—my client running around on an open field would make her close to impossible to protect. Bill, the current agent on duty, and I walked the field looking for anything out of place. About a half hour into the scrimmage, three motorcyclists pulled into the parking lot and sat watching the game.
"Bill," I said into the mike I had begun wearing to keep in touch with him, "those three are trouble," I said and began walking onto the playing field in Lexi's direction.
The men sat on their bikes about fifty yards away, smoking.
The coach gave me a disapproving look as I approached the action where Lexi was attempting to intercept a pass.
Too damn many kids in the way, I lamented. Kids who weren't my responsibility...my mind whirled in turmoil. Collateral damage had always seemed to refer to a bystander or two—not twenty children. But my responsibility was Lexi, not the twenty children she was playing with.
I promised myself I would spend more time at target practice between assignments and more time meditating as I closed my eyes and sought a quiet place. I didn't have much time, maybe only seconds, and willed myself to quiet my mind as I struggled against the urge to hurry. At some point my consistent practice on and off assignments won, and the panic left. Feeling at peace with the world I opened my eyes, drew my Glock, and fired.
Only the middle cyclist was looking in my direction. Two rounds hit him, one in the chest and one in the throat. He was thrown backward and tumbled to the ground. The biker to his left reached into his saddlebag as two bullets of my three hit him: one in the chest, one missed, and one in the helmet. The biker to the right was backing up his bike as two shots caught him in the chest.
Subconsciously, I could hear the screams and see figures running helter skelter, but my focus was on the three cyclists. The arm of the biker on the left moved, and I shot him twice in his head while continuing to walk toward them. The rightmost biker was suddenly up with a rifle, rising toward me. I put three shots in his helmet. The biker's last act was a reflexive jerk that caused the automatic weapon to tear a trench ten yards in my direction before stopping.
"Lexi!" I shouted. I saw a hand go up in the midst of several children. I grabbed her hand when I reached her and pulled her up. "I think practice is over for today," I said as I walked toward the Tahoe. Bill looked a bit dazed. "Lexi and I are going home. You may want to stay and preserve the crime scene."
"They didn't do anything," Bill said weakly, looking wide-eyed at me. "Why did you shoot them?"
"They made me nervous," I said, getting Lexi settled in the passenger's seat and jumping into the driver's side. "Lexi, can you give me directions home?"
She nodded wide-eyed.
By the time I reached the house, Timothy was standing outside. "What happened?" he asked.
"Inside," I said. I didn't see any obvious trouble but had no way to know if the three back at the park had friends in town or staking out the house.
"You have the Boise police and news outlets in a frenzy. They are claiming you shot three innocent bikers visiting the city."
"How did they determine that?" I wondered. It seemed a bit early for them to know anything about the three.
"Don't know. Bill has called the Boise office for backup and is trying unsuccessfully to keep the police from the crime scene. He doesn't know why you killed them. Care to share?" he asked as Denise entered the room. Sirens could be heard wailing in the distance.
"According to Bill, the local police have a warrant out for your arrest, and they have a SWAT team with them," Timothy said while listening to his cell.
I scanned the room and then pointed to the kitchen. "Lexi, Denise, go to the kitchen and stay behind the counter. If trouble starts, lie on the floor," I said.
Timothy frowned and went to the front door and stood there with his FBI jacket and badge in plain sight.
I backed into the living room so I could see the entrance and the kitchen. Too damn many ways into the house, I mused as I waited.
A few minutes later a police captain entered with Timothy and approached me. He was a middle-aged man, round craggy face and a stomach that extended well over his belt. "You will have to surrender your weapon and accompany me downtown," he said in an authoritative voice used to being obeyed.
I rolled up my sleeve and turned my arm so he could see the tattoo.
But he spoke before I could. "Girly, I don't care that you're some kind of special agent. You shot three innocent young men and are going to be held accountable. We have laws in Idaho that apply to you high-and-mighty…Kazaks." His face had a look of satisfaction—like he had caught one of the FBI Ten Most Wanted.
I smiled back as I pressed my Glock against his throat. "Kazaks have government immunity. That's the US government. And since Idaho is in the United States of America and subject to its laws, you can't arrest me. So before you get you or your troopers killed, call someone in authority and check."
"I'll have you—" he began, until I pushed my Glock hard under his jaw.
"Now take your troops and go. You're upsetting the senator's family and the neighbors." I thought I'd throw him a bone to gnaw on while he was lying awake fantasizing about having me sentenced to a life term in an Idaho prison. "I'm not above the law, Captain. There will be an investigation of my actions, and I'm sure you will get to describe how out of control I am."
"Damn right. People like you should never be given a badge. I'm going to make sure you are held accountable," he said as he made for the door.
"Why did you shoot those men?" Lexi asked
quietly from just behind me.
"Because I thought they were going to hurt you and the children around you," I said, at peace with my decision regardless of the outcome. Anyway, the event was history. It did no good to dwell on it since it couldn't be changed.
"But they hadn't done anything."
"The alternative was to wait until they began shooting." I said.
"I'm beginning to understand how Kazaks are different from normal FBI," Timothy said as Denise neared. "Bill didn't fire because the three bikers hadn't taken any aggressive action. For the same reason, the Captain holds you responsible—they hadn't broken any laws and you gave them no warning. But you felt justified in killing them because they posed a possible danger. I now know for sure I wouldn't want that kind of responsibility." He left the house shaking his head.
"Are you sorry you shot those men?" Lexi asked.
"I don't like shooting anything, not helpless animals or people. But to protect the people I'm assigned, sometimes it's necessary. I made a decision after weighing the risk to you. Other people will have to decide whether I was right or wrong. I did what I thought was right."
"You lied," Denise said in a normal voice with a small smile touching her lips. "You said you weren't here to protect anyone except Lexi. Thank you. I couldn't stand for us to be responsible for those girls' lives."
* * *
"Megan," I said into the phone, knowing it was Witton. It was just after eight. Denise and Lexi were watching some sitcom, and I had just finished checking the windows and doors. I couldn't assume those three bikers had been alone.
"The phone hasn't stopped ringing since you shot those bikers. I've got cauliflower ears by now. And of course the Committee wants an explanation, so I need to understand your logic."
"Lexi was at soccer practice and in the middle of a scrimmage when..."
"The fact that our protocol makes us responsible only for our clients made that an extremely difficult call but, in my opinion, a good call I doubt few other Kazaks would have made. The FBI has identified all three as members of the South American gang of which one of the bereaved fathers is a senior member, and they all had automatic weapons in their saddle bags. Unfortunately, I think that puts you and Lexi on an equal footing with the gang."
