by Frank Perry
the residential neighborhood. His fixed-blade knife normally went across his chest, but tonight it was fastened behind with the gun.
His main weapon was a compound archery bow. SEALS train with the compound bow, but he hadn’t used one for a several years. All of his skills had been neglected since going to Washington, but he felt adequate with the weapons. The compound bow is very compact with limbs that are much stiffer than conventional bows. It’s more energy-efficient, and pulley systems give a huge mechanical advantage. It had a seventy-pound pull weight but was small enough to carry slung over his back. With the pulley system, it had the draw weight of only thirty-five pounds for precise aiming at full extension. Nine arrows with razor-sharp broad-head tips were mounted in quick release clamps to the bow. He didn’t know how many guards would be around the house, and needed to remain silent. He definitely didn’t want a firefight around all these houses, especially with a single handgun.
With the equipment in place, he tugged on everything then jumped a few inches, grabbing the clay tiles adorning the top of the fence. He pulled himself up slowly, hoping the tiles were well-cemented. When chin-high, he reached his arms over the top and swung one leg up. He was over the fence if seconds, hidden behind the evergreens. He waited and listened. No guards were at this end of the house and all the lights were out. It was past bedtime for children, and it was late for anyone to be awake unless Peña’s wife was particularly devoted, which he couldn’t imagine.
He moved across the yard to the side of the house, hidden in the foundation plantings. Moments later, he moved to the corner. Behind the house was a huge patio, leading to a swimming pool. One man was sitting at a picnic table, relaxed, smoking a cigarette. Hunter wondered what Peña would do if he knew that man was this lazy. He moved along the side to the front. There were exterior carriage lamps around the front and surrounding the circular drive. One man was sitting by the front door and another was walking slowly along the edge of the driveway, bored. There had probably never been a serious threat at Peña’s house.
Hunter moved silently in the shadows to the back again. The house did not have motion sensing lighting, probably to avoid disturbing the family, as guards walked around. At the back corner, the man was still sitting by the pool, apparently lost in his own thoughts. He was dressed in a sport coat and trousers with no weapons visible. The coat looked unnatural on the hired killer, but would conceal a gun. Hunter moved slowly across the lawn behind the man, watching his head. The man shifted slightly, and Hunter froze. In the dark, dressed all in black with face paint, he was invisible. The man slouched further and actually looked like he would sleep in the pool chair. Peña would kill him if he knew.
Hunter stopped immediately behind him about forty feet way. He slowly removed an arrow from its rubber holder and nocked it on the bowstring. He did everything slowly to avoid any noise as he drew the bowstring back to rest in a familiar location pressing under his right jawbone. He sighted along the open window above the arrow rest and took a deep breath. The bow fired with more force than any conventional bow and made a small swishing sound as the pulleys rotated and the fletched end (feathers) passed over the arrow rest. Flight time of the arrow was less than ten milliseconds. Even if he heard it, the man could never have reacted.
The arrow pierced the chair cushion as though it wasn’t there. The man’s head jerked upward involuntarily as the arrow passed through his chest, almost exiting from the front. His nervous system seized and he couldn’t move with his heart sliced from behind. Broad head arrows kill without the traumatic shock of a gunshot. A sharp hunting arrow can pass completely through its prey sometimes unnoticed if it misses bones. This arrow split the sternum and didn’t exit, although most of it extended from the body. Hunter ran up to the man with his knife, ready to finish the job, which proved unnecessary. He was paralyzed from shock and would die in less than a minute. He remained sitting, as he was.
Hunter moved toward the front. The two men, guarding the entrance, posed a more difficult threat. For several minutes he watched and then moved toward the front wall, outside the field of view of the man sitting in front of the door. He waited in the shadows as the man pacing the driveway returned from the other end. It was a senseless exercise from a security standpoint, but probably helped overcome boredom. Hunter waited unmoving in the shadows, melding with the shrubs near the gate. The man would come to him. He needed to time the shot so the man on the porch wasn’t alerted. At his end of the driveway, the walking guard would be at the extreme edge of the other guard’s vision. He waited. Impatience on his part would destroy his mission, destroy Laura. He gnashed his teeth and crouched back into the bushes, slowly placing an arrow on its rest.
The man kept walking toward him. Hunter didn’t know if he would come all the way to the gate or if he followed a shorter pattern, or if there was any pattern at all. When the man was about forty feet away, Hunter drew back and held the string against his cheek, under his jaw, waiting. The pulley system allowed him to hold in this position for more than a minute before his arm would quiver. The man kept walking directly at him. He was within lethal range of the arrow, but Hunter held fire as he continued to approach. Ten feet away, Hunter let the arrow fly, hitting the center of his chest. Only the feathers were visible. The man froze and seemed to rise on his toes as Hunter leapt from his crouched position and caught the guard before he could fall. The man’s eyes were bulging, and he seemed to exhale continuously when Hunter laid him down quietly. One guard to go.
He crept back toward the west corner of the house then turned along the front, moving toward the entrance. The man was hidden from view, and Hunter stayed close to the mature landscaping. The entrance of the house was bracketed on both sides with huge Bougainvillea vines extending six to eight feet out from the wall and up trellises to the second-floor roof. He placed another arrow on the rest. At twenty feet, he could see the man’s silhouette through the climbing shrubs. He checked footing. He needed to step out into the entry light to get a clear shot. He waited until the man reached in his coat pocket for a cigarette, temporarily distracted. Hunter moved in a low crouch away from the wall. He aimed and fired quickly at the guard’s head, but hit low, through his throat. The man jerked out of his chair, gripping the arrow shaft, unable to scream. He flailed against the door, and Hunter leapt onto him with his knife, shoving it under the man’s ribs in back, throwing him away from the entry onto the lawn. He was still squirming but was mortally wounded.
Hunter tried the front door, but it was locked. He had no choice but to break it down. It took two hard kicks to break the hinges from the hardwood frame. He ran in looking both directions for a bedroom. There was a small noise at the end of the hall to his right and he ran to it, smashing through the double doors into the master suite. She was fumbling with the nightstand drawer, pulling hard in an awkward angle, near panic. He ran to her just as it opened, and she reached for the gun. He slapped it away using an open-handed chop to her wrist, dislodging the weapon. She screamed, and he threw her to the ground, reaching for the tie-wraps in his leg pocket.
She cried and yelled at the same time. “Guard, guards!”
“Go ahead and yell, lady. They can’t come.”
She squirmed defiantly, making it difficult to restrain her. “You can’t be here! Do you know who I am? Do you know who my husband is?”
He knelt beside her. “Of course, I do. Why do you think I’m here?”
She tried to roll him off and kicked her feet.
“Mommy!” A young teenage girl jumped on Hunter, and he threw her onto the bed.
He jumped on her and tried to roll her over but she kicked viciously. He didn’t want to hurt her. Finally he tied her feet. Tie wraps cannot be undone except to cut them off. He left her hands free while moving back to the mother and tying her feet together. Melanie Peña wasn’t yelling any more, just sobbing uncontrollably. He hated what he was doin
g, but didn’t have a choice. The girl, Landra, was trying to tug on the foot ties but without any success. He slipped onto the bed beside her. “Give me your hands!”
“No.”
“Give them to me, or I’ll tie them behind your back. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.”
He tied her hands as gently as possible when the girl, Landra, asked, “Who are you? Why are you doing this?”
“It’s not important, and you’ll figure out the rest.” He looked down at Melanie, “I don’t mean you any harm, but I don’t have any choice at this point. Where are your car keys?”
She became defiant. “I’m not helping you. You can go to hell.”
He pulled the gun from his belt. “Have it your way, lady. How about I shoot her in the leg?” He was serious.
“No! I’ll tell you.”
He helped her to her feet, sitting her on the bed. “Is there anyone else in the house? Be careful how you answer. If you lie to me and someone’s hiding, they will die.”
She spat back words. “There’s no one else!”
“Where are your car keys?”
He carried each female to the S600 Mercedes in the garage, sitting them
