Kazak Guardians: Book III: Megan (Kazak Guardians Series 3)

by C. R. Daems

  "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."

  "You may want to alert the Idaho State Police, the Captain of the Boise police, and issue me an AK-47," I only half joked. It appeared only the police, FBI, and I carried Glocks. Everyone else carried automatic weapons.

  There was a knock at the door an hour later. When Denise rose to answer the door, I held up my hand.

  "Denise, the gangs may not be targeting you, but I'd rather you weren't collateral damage. Don't answer the door unless you can see me, and I can see the door. And don't block my line of sight," I said and moved so I could see the door and waved Lexi out of sight of the door before nodding to Denise.

  "Mrs. Burns, I was checking the grounds and wanted to bring you and Megan up-to-date."

  "Come in, Timothy, Bill," Denise said, smiling with obvious relief.

  "The three you shot were from that South American gang we were concerned about and they had automatic weapons. If they had attacked while those girls were practicing, it would have been...a nightmare. I've posted an extra guard in case they might have friends in the area."

  "I thought you were a lunatic, Megan. Sorry," Bill said quietly, looking thoughtful. "I saw the potentially bad things that could have happened but also the consequences of shooting someone who not only wasn't shooting at anyone but had no weapons showing. I had originally thought it would be fantastic to have immunity. Now that I understand the responsibility that goes with it, you couldn't give me it for any salary," Bill said before following Timothy out the door.

  "I'm scared." Lexi leaned against me while holding my arm. "I don't want to die."

  "Being scared isn't a bad thing so long as you don't let it control your life. Being scared will keep you from doing foolish things that could get you hurt."

  "Do you get scared?" she asked, looking up at me with misty eyes.

  "Yes. Everyone with a working brain gets scared from time to time. It's how you handle it that matters."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Do you face the fear or run from it?` For example, if you were afraid of drowning, you could try to avoid water—or you could learn to swim. If you learned to swim you might still not like water, but you would not have let it control your life."

  "But men are trying to kill me! I can't avoid it or learn to...reduce the risk," her voice rose hysterically.

  Denise sat watching us but said nothing.

  "Do you have a rude gesture you give someone when they are teasing you?" I asked.

  She hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting toward her mother. "Yes."

  "Every time you think of them hurting you, give them that gesture."

  "How will that help?"

  "It's you telling them you aren't going to let them run your life. That you're better than them, and they can go to...the ninth circle of Dante's Inferno," I said.

  Denise's worried look turned to a small smile.

  Lexi gave me a hard look. "What's that?"

  "Dante wrote a book where he..." I spent the next hour discussing Dante's vision of Hell and Denise actually found a copy of the book in the family study. Lexi took the book to bed with her. I followed her to make sure the blinds had all been drawn.

  Denise met me on the stairs as I was coming down. "Thank you," I think that helped Lexi...and me. I guess giving them the finger is the closest thing to learning how to swim." She laughed and continued upstairs to the bedrooms.

  After checking to make sure the alarm was set, I got my lounge chair positioned to watch the stairs and the front and back doors. I couldn't cover everything. Besides a front and rear door there was the garage door to the house and multiple windows, so the security alarm would have to suffice.

  * * *

  The sound of motorcycles woke me sometime after midnight. I stayed alert for an hour after they faded into the distance, just in case. When nothing happened, I returned to a light sleep. I rose and was moving the chair back to its original position when I heard movement upstairs and then made my way to Lexi's bedroom.

  "Hi, Megan. What's up?"

  "What's up there?" I said, pointing to the ceiling.

  "Nothing. Wires, insulation, and bugs, I guess."

  "How can I get up there?"

  "There is a pull-down ladder at the end of the hallway."

  "Show me," I said and followed Lexi down the hallway.

  At the end of the hallway she stopped and pointed to a rope hanging some six inches from the ceiling. I jumped up, caught hold of it, and pulled. As I did, a three-foot wooden panel opened and a folded ladder expanded to the floor. I crawled up enough to see into the space: exposed two-by-eights with insulation in between. When I came back down, Denise was standing next to Lexi, watching.

  "Good morning, Denise. Do you think you could get someone to nail down rough flooring up there? Tell them you want to store some little-used things up there."

  "What are you thinking?" She asked hesitantly, frowning.

  "I'm thinking this house has too many entrances for me to guard," I said. My thoughts were on the motorcycles I'd heard the night before. If multiple attackers hit the house, I couldn't possibly protect Lexi.

  "We have two FBI agents guarding the house," Denise said.

  "Yes, and that's good. But what if they are drawn away?" I left off ‘or killed.’ "When we tell people we can only protect one person, some believe us cruel. They can imagine all sorts of ways to protect whole families. But those examples include everyone sticking together or being in a room or place with only one entrance. The fact is that in places with multiple entrances, if there were multiple attackers, I'd have a difficult time protecting one person." I stopped until Denise nodded.

  "I'd like to be around to attend my daughter's graduation from college, her marriage, and to see my grandchildren. I'll take care of it. I'll tell them my husband is sending home some junk from Washington." She went off into her bedroom and picked up the phone.

  "You're worried about the bikers?" Lexi asked. "I heard some last night."

  "Probably not related to those at the park, but I've found it's better to plan for the worst and look foolish when it doesn't happen than to not be prepared if it does."

  "Are you scared? You can't hide like we can." Her eyes held mine.

  "I think of it as a high-stakes game where the winner is the one who can outsmart the other. If you can surprise your opponent, you usually win. If he surprises you, you usually lose."

  "At the park you surprised them by shooting first."

  "Correct. They might have won if they'd have ridden onto the field immediately from different directions."

  "And killed me." She paled.

  I took her shoulders in my hands and looked at her. "No. And killed me. If they had tried to kill you first, they know they wouldn’t live to spend the money they expect to collect from killing you. Like playing soccer, you don't think about winning or losing while you're playing. You concentrate on the game and doing your best."

  "So, I mentally give the bad guys the finger and ignore them, knowing you'll win the game eventually."

  "Perfect," I said, giving her a hug. "I know you're scared, and you have a right to be. But don't let them ruin your life."

  * * *

  The day-detail drove us to the school, where Lexi and I were directed to the principal's office. The soccer coach was already there when we arrived.

  "Miss Burns, Coach Danner is suspending you until this trouble is resolved. Your presence is putting other children at risk. In fact, your presence in the school is putting everyone here at risk," she said as if Lexi were the problem, not the thugs trying to kill her.

&nb
sp; I was sure they would have expelled her if her father hadn't been a senator, and someone was probably already in negotiations with him to get her private tutoring.

  "Given the government resources on this case," I said, "I believe the situation will be resolved quickly. And since it appears Miss Burns is one of your first-string players, couldn't you give her private lessons after the normal practice? I'm sure the senator would appreciate it and, if necessary I'll pay for your time." Stupid, I chided myself. She already has too much exposure given their house, school, and shopping—and I'm creating more. But the alternative was to lock her up in a room with only one door. And would that guarantee her safety?

  Fortunately, Danner interrupted my brooding.

  "I agree we shouldn't punish Miss Burns for the actions of foreign thugs. Maybe you can get rid of a few more. Private lessons are a good compromise." He gave a short laugh, which the principal didn't seem to appreciate.

  After we had worked out the details, Lexi went to her first class. At lunch, she was the most popular student in the school. About halfway through her next class, a civics class, the door opened and a local policeman stood in the doorway. He looked at me and then scanned the room. When his eyes came back to me, my Glock was pointing at his face.

  "Hands in front of you, then face down on the floor," I said.

  All heads turned in my direction, while several slipped out of their seats to huddle behind their desks.

  "I'm a Boise police officer. I was just checking to make sure everything is all right."

  "The bullet in this weapon doesn't care. Any movement except to get down as I asked, and that vest you are wearing won't help."

  "The Chief sent me—"

  "Last chance," I said, beginning to tighten my trigger finger.

  He saw something in my posture or eyes, because he dropped to his knees and then lay flat with his arms extended.

  I knelt and wacked him in the temple with my Glock, which elicited gasps and screams. I then removed the standard police weapon from his holster and patted him down, finding a small revolver in his boot and another weapon with a silencer inside his belt in back. I hit the speed dial for the FBI agent guarding the front of the school.

  "Bradley. What's up?"

  "Is there another local policeman around?" I asked, sensing the one I had was not acting alone.

  "Yes, he is standing in front of the school entrance."

  "Arrest him."

  "He's local police. They drove up in a Boise police car."

  "Then exercise extreme caution, because they are smart as well as dangerous." I stepped over the one on the floor and stood so I was only partially visible but could see the main entrance at the end of the hallway. As I did, I saw the officer open the door and enter the school. I fired twice, hitting him in the chest and propelling him backward into the doors, which opened enough for him to fall through.

  "You shot him!" Bradley shouted in the phone.

  "Be careful. They have vests on. I only shot him in the chest, so he is at best stunned." Through the door I could see Bradley approaching the man, gun drawn.

  "I've called Timothy and the local police, since I have no way to secure him for now. I understand the Chief of Police is on the way. I hope you're right about them not being local cops."

  "They aren't dead. That's a positive," I quipped.

  "I'm surprised. You don't usually..."

  "It would have upset the kids," I said, which was partially true. He would be dead if he had made an aggressive move or if I hadn't had FBI backup to take him off my hands. As he intended to kill Lexi and me he didn't deserve special consideration.

  Several minutes later, Chief Ferguson came striding down the hallway with another officer. He stopped at the doorway, knelt, examined the man on the floor, and then stood up facing me.

  "I may shoot them later myself, depending upon what they did to officers Perkins and Hines, but I'm glad you left them alive for questioning. What made you realize he wasn't a local policeman, or did you care?" He gave me a wry grin.

  "A feeling. A local policeman would have been more interested in me than the kids. He was identifying Miss Burns for later, which also suggested he had a partner."

  "You seem to rely a lot on your feelings, like with the bikers. That could be a problem," he said it more like a question than a statement of fact.

  "We are only assigned if Assassins are likely to be involved. Unlike your average wacko, they will have a plan. Consequently, you have to be extremely paranoid and comfortable with your instincts."

  "I hope you've caught them all," he said, frowning and making eye contact.

  "Me too, but I doubt those three bikers were alone," I said, although I didn't expect his department could do much to help. He couldn't stop every motorcycle coming into town, even those with out-of-state license plates.

  "Garsen, cuff him and let's get these two to the station for questioning." He said nothing more as they half-carried the man toward the doors.

  Just then the principal appeared, heading in my direction. "You and Lexi are causing a lot of trouble—"

  "Actually, Lexi isn't causing any trouble at all. She has been as inconvenienced as the other kids by the people who are trying to hurt her, and I've kept them from causing problems. Unlike many schools around the country, no one here has been harmed." Secretly, I had to empathize with her. Lexi was a dangerous person to have around, and if this situation wasn't resolved soon, I agreed that Lexi should be isolated. The people the grieving fathers were sending were out-of-control psychopaths, judging by their choice of locations.

  Mrs. Thomas dismissed the afternoon classes, no doubt because of the number of parents wanting their children out of school. Coach Danner cancelled soccer practice but did give Lexi her private lesson.

  "Thanks, Coach. Lexi is under a lot of stress and this will help."

  "Yeah, I served in Iraq. I know what thinking you're going to die every day can do to a person. Whether they let her stay in school or not, I'll continue the lessons. She's a brave young girl."

  The coach spent an hour with Lexi, working her hard. It was just what she needed. Just ten minutes into the practice, I could see the tension in her dissolving as her focus became the soccer ball. I laughed softly—soccer-meditation.

  Back at the house, she was excited and spent an hour entertaining her mother as she described every detail of her private lesson with Coach Danner. We had just finished dinner when Timothy knocked at the door, which dampened the mood.

  "I just stopped in to update you on the police activities," he said as Denise waved him into the living room. Ironically, that was a topic everyone had been successfully ignoring. "They found the two policemen relatively unhurt. They had been tied up and chloroformed in a hotel room the two...men had rented. Since they didn't really hurt the policemen, the US Attorney appears willing to talk a deal and the...men appear willing to cooperate. That could end one threat."

  "The mob father?" Denise asked. Timothy nodded.

  "Agent Bradley is feeling really embarrassed. He talked with both of the men and didn't detect anything amiss. They said the chief of police had sent them to patrol the school as added protection."

  "He's lucky they were professionals," I said.

  "Professionals?" Denise asked.

  Lexi remained silent but was attentive to everything that was being said.

  "Yes, no unnecessary killing. A gang would more than likely have killed the policemen, and Bradley, and me—in that order. Well, tried to kill me—rather than scope out the room." I grinned. "That is now working to their advantage. If they had killed the two policemen and an FBI man, I doubt anyone would be willing to offer a plea deal for any information."

  When Timothy left, Denise and Lexi were very quiet. Denise sat haphazardly flipping through a fashion magazine, her mind elsewhere. Lexi sat looking at me.

  "What's next?" she asked.

  "Are you asking short term or long term?" I asked, not wanting to answer th
e wrong question and maybe raise the tension level unnecessarily.

  "Short."

  "Do you remember how you felt this afternoon when you were having your lesson with Coach Danner?"

  "Of course. What has that got to do with people trying to kill me?" Lexi's voice rose with each word.

  "Did you think about the men at the school, or the bikers, or what would happen tonight?"

  "No."

  "Bad things may happen in the future, but you were enjoying the here and now. Think of me. If I sat here worrying about all the bad things that could happen to me, when something happened, I'd be too depressed to move," I said and produced a sulky face.

  Lexi laughed and even Denise produced a weak smile.

  "You may think your world is ending," I said, and Denise's face lost color, "but when the FBI ends the case, the news agencies will hound you for interviews, and you'll become the next big star in Hollywood."

  "No wonder you're always in a good mood." Lexi laughed along with her mother. "Nix the Hollywood star. Instead, how about I become the next Alex Morgan? I read she has more than a million and a half Twitter followers. And the Olympics would be fun." She was quiet after that, but she had a small smile as she sat reading.

  * * *

  The next two days were uneventful. I noticed Chief Ferguson must have assigned a patrol car with two officers, since one appeared to be following the FBI security protocol: discretely parking nearby at the school, home, and the practice field. I certainly didn't mind a bit of help. Although they would be slow to shoot, they might be helpful after the first shot. Timothy indicated that the hitmen and the Attorney General had come to an agreement on testifying, which I thought might resolve one problem.

  I jerked awake when I heard the motorcycle engines only a few moments before I heard the automatic gunfire. As I reached the top of the stairs, Denise and Lexi appeared in their bedroom doorways. I pointed to the attic and waited until they had both disappeared up the ladder and retracted it into the ceiling.

  I had just reached the bottom of the steps when someone the size of a football tackle shattered the front door and crashed into the front entrance. I shot him twice in the head before he could recover and dove into the living room as automatic weapon fire shattered the doorframe and the stairs where I had been standing, as it swept from left to right. It stopped and then began a right-to-left sweep as the shooter stepped through the doorway and over his biker friend.