by Jaxon Reed
“Cantu!”
The sergeant, an attractive dark haired woman who looked to be in her late thirties, moved from her position in the middle of the formation, and hurried across the grass toward Cantu. The other troopers followed.
Bryce stayed very still, letting the troopers get closer.
“What happened to Cantu?”
The sergeant reached him. She and two others bent down to check on him, while the remaining two scanned the grounds. Bryce lunged forward and stuck one in the neck.
“Ouch!”
The trooper crumpled to the ground. The sergeant and the other two brought their carbines up, pointing them at the one nearest Bryce. He spread his hands out.
“It wasn’t me!”
The troopers lowered their guns, confused. Bryce took a careful step in their direction.
“What was that?”
All four troopers heard the grass squish. The sergeant looked down at the squished grass where Bryce stood.
“Why are there footsteps moving in the grass?”
Back at the van Parker said, “He’s been made. Everybody move out!”
The rear doors of the police transport swung open, and the Bolshoi Boys filed into the street. The troopers swung their guns up and began shooting at the men streaming out of the van.
In the most authoritative voice he could muster, Bryce shouted behind them, “Cease fire! Cease fire!”
The troopers stopped in surprise and turned around, trying to locate the source of the voice. Bryce quickly stuck the sergeant in the neck with a dart. She crumpled into a heap on the ground.
The Russians were very close now. The ones in front shot their dart guns.
Thoop! Thoop!
“Arg! What the . . .”
One trooper had a dart sticking out of his cheek, the other had a dart in his neck. They swooned, and fell to the ground.
Parker walked up behind the dozen or so armored Russian mobsters. She bustled through them, bent down and felt Cantu’s pulse, then the sergeant’s.
“Well, at least we know the tranqs work.”
Bryce ran for the front door, the grass squishing under his feet. The Bolshoi Boys quickly followed.
-+-
In the back of the mansion, Renard and her group faced stiffer opposition. Alerted by gunshots from the front, the half dozen troopers around back took cover and began firing on the Bolshoi Boys as soon as the rear door to the van opened.
The mobsters spread out and tried to get close enough to their targets for the tranquilizer guns, but the going proved tough even with bulletproof armor. Several hid behind the van when the shooting started.
A shot pinged off the helmet of one nearest Renard. He dropped the dart gun and reached for his sidearm. She grabbed his arm.
“No! They are not themselves. They must not be shot.”
He stared at her a moment through his protective visor, then nodded curtly. He returned the firearm to its holster and reached down to pick up the dart gun.
One of the troopers shot at him as he bent down. The bullet went into the back of his neck, just as it was exposed between his helmet and upper body armor. Renard heard a sickening crackling sound as the bullet shattered his spinal cord. He collapsed, and a pool of blood formed around his head and upper body.
The Bolshoi Boys nearby watched him go down. They too reached for their sidearms. Renard sensed that the situation threatened to spiral out of control.
“No, no, no. That is not the way to do it. Here, I’ll show you.”
She broke out from cover and walked briskly toward the troopers. They all turned their fire toward her. The bullets plinked off her chest armor as they aimed for center mass. She approached the nearest trooper, who used a tree for cover. When she got to within a few feet of the tree, she walked to the side of it, and shot him point blank with the dart gun.
Thoop!
He crumpled into a ball on the ground. She immediately turned and headed for the next trooper, this one hiding behind a bush.
Thoop!
Emboldened, the Bolshoi Boys crept out from behind the police van and swarmed the remaining troopers, firing enough tranquilizer darts to take the rest of them out.
Renard waved them over to her, then pointed toward the back entrance.
“Now, break down that door!”
-+-
“All units, be advised. Gunshots reported from the area around the Governor’s Mansion. All available units, converge on Ten-ten Colorado Street.”
“Dispatch, Delta Echo Four Two.”
“Go ahead, Delta Echo.”
“Yeah, we are in the vicinity, right next to the Governor’s place, and there is nothing going on here.”
“Roger that, Delta Echo. All units, dismiss reports of gunfire at Ten-ten Colorado Street.”
Miller looked over at Jenkins and smiled.
“If I didn’t have all this emotion controlling drugs in my system, I might feel guilty about lying to Dispatch like that.”
“If I didn’t have all these drugs in my system, I’d feel elated right now that you did. Man, what a rush we’re missing out on.”
“Yeah, total bummer. We can’t even enjoy screwing the system while we’re doing it.”
-+-
“I regret that I cannot legally wed you two. Now, I can handle your divorce, Governor, and that is certainly doable. But, we’re going to have to get a pastor or a government official to perform the wedding ceremony.”
Governor Zavala nodded in understanding. He sat in the library, also called the Green Room, holding hands with Desiree while her lawyer, Simon Perez stood addressing them.
“Not a problem, Simon, not a problem. I’m sure any number of pastors around the state would be delighted to marry us. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
Lamont smiled, and ran her fingers lightly through Zavala’s hair.
“I’d prefer a civil ceremony, dear. I’m not too fond of religious types.”
“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”
The sound of gunfire outside interrupted them. Three black-clad state troopers ran into the room.
“Everybody get down, we’re under attack!”
Perez, Zavala, and Lamont scrambled to the floor. The troopers took up covered positions, aiming their guns at the door.
“Sounds like it’s coming more from the back,” Zavala said.
“Don’t worry, Governor. We’ve got a good squad out there. I doubt they’ll breach the perimeter.”
Slowly, the gunfire petered out until one gunman remained shooting on the back lawn. Soon, even his gun went silent.
BAM! BAM!
An alarm sounded.
A cordial but persistent female computer voice said, “Perimeter breach. An intruder is in the building. Perimeter breach. An intruder is in the building . . .”
“They’re coming in! Get ready, shoot anyone coming into this room!”
The three troopers tensed in their crouched positions, fingers resting on the triggers, guns aimed at the doorway.
“Did you hear that?”
“No, what?”
“It was a slight noise, like a rustling. Footsteps maybe. Ouch!”
A dart appeared suddenly, sticking out of the trooper’s neck. He collapsed to the floor.
“What the . . .?”
Another dart appeared in the neck of the trooper next to him.
-+-
Jenkins watched as a squad car settled gently in the street between their unmarked car and the police transport.
“Who’s that?”
Miller said, “That’s those jerks, Dunn and Herrera. I hate those guys. Of course, I don’t feel the hate at the moment. But ordinarily, I really detest those two.”
The two detectives stepped out of their car at the same time as the officers exited theirs.
Dunn said, “Well, looky here! The old farts! You guys ain’t dead or retired yet?”
The sound of gunfire rang out from the back of the building.
&n
bsp; The officers turned quickly toward the mansion. Herrera drew his sidearm.
“What’s that? I thought you said there was no gunfire here.”
Dunn pointed to the front lawn.
“I see bodies over there. Better get on the line and let Dispatch know that—”
Thoop! Thoop!
The two patrol officers fell to the pavement, unconscious.
Jenkins and Miller exchanged glances. Each held one of the dart guns.
Miller said, “That should have felt really good. I hate those guys.”
Jenkins nodded.
“This is the best day of my life, and I don’t feel a thing. We’re totally getting robbed of the experience.”
-+-
Bryce moved toward the third trooper. In panic, the trooper sprayed the room with gunfire, shooting in all directions. A bullet ripped through Bryce’s shoulder.
He grunted in pain and stopped moving. The trooper and the other three still conscious in the room watched in amazement as a blood stain appeared, seeming to float in the air.
-+-
The group from the front met the group from the rear entrance in the center of the mansion. Parker took charge of both groups.
“Spread out! Search every room and tranq anybody you find!”
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Parker and Renard locked eyes at the sound of gunfire. Renard nodded her head over her shoulder.
“It came from this way.”
They burst into the library with four of the Bolshoi Boys behind them and started shooting darts.
Thoop! Thoop! Thoop! Thoop!
Bryce dove to the floor. The trooper who shot him watched in distraction as the floating bloodstain went down. Two darts caught him, one in his neck, one in his lower lip. He collapsed in a heap.
Perez collapsed next, three darts sticking out of his chest.
“Stop!”
Lamont pointed a gun at the Governor. In the confusion, she had taken it from the nearest unconscious trooper. She stared at the two women, glaring angrily, bringing the full force of her power on them and the Bolshoi Boys behind them.
Nothing happened. Her face fell as she suddenly realized everyone in the room, except for the Governor, remained outside her control.
Bryce groaned as he sat up, then stood, holding the gunshot wound in his right shoulder with his left hand. He pulled the suit’s hood off, and his head appeared to be floating above and to the side of the wound.
He would have laughed at the comical expression of amazement on Lamont’s face, but the Hexenhammer in his system prevented it.
“Put the gun down, Desiree. It’s over.”
Her look of amazement dissolved into a scowl, and her pupils contracted as she tried to exert her power over him as well.
He shook his head.
“It won’t work. On any of us.”
Her face fell as her confidence wavered a moment. Then it tightened in a look of grim determination.
“Get out of our way, or I will shoot him!”
Nobody moved. She turned the gun and shot one of the unconscious state troopers.
BANG!
“The next one goes into the Governor’s head! Now get out of the way!”
Parker held her hands up, her dart gun pointed at the ceiling.
“Let her go. Everybody back off.”
Renard held her aim, continuing to point her weapon at Lamont.
“We can take her,” Renard said. “She’ll be knocked out immediately.”
“It’s too risky. She’ll still have time to pull the trigger. Stand down!”
Reluctantly, Renard lowered her dart gun.
The Bolshoi Boys fell back, leaving a path to the room’s exit.
“Come on, Diego.”
“Yes, dear.”
The Governor dutifully walked beside her, as she backed out of the room, holding the gun against his head.
-+-
As Jenkins and Miller walked toward the transport, the Chief exited the vehicle.
He nodded toward the unconscious police officers beside their squad car.
“Good job.”
“Thanks, Chief.”
Miller pointed toward the front door of the mansion.
“What’s going on over there?”
All three watched as Lamont walked backwards out the front door, holding the end of the trooper’s carbine against the Governor’s head.
The Chief hurried back into the van, pressing his hand against the storage locker. The pad turned green, and the locker’s door open. He grabbed a sniper rifle.
-+-
“I’m going to follow her,” Bryce said, grimacing in pain from the bullet wound in his shoulder.
“Are you sure that’s a wise idea, partner?”
“No. But, I’m going to do it anyway. We can’t just let her get away.”
He walked down the hall toward the front door, blood stain and head seeming to float through the air. He came to the front door, which had been kicked in by the Bolshoi Boys. He could see Lamont and the Governor moving out on the front lawn.
-+-
“It needs to be a headshot,” Jenkins said. “Total incapacitation. That’s gonna be a tough one at this distance, Chief. You sure you want to take it?”
“I can do it, if I get a clear shot.”
Jones held the sniper rifle steady, bracing against the side of the transport van. He tracked Lamont’s head with the scope.
“It would be a lot easier if she stopped moving for a moment.”
-+-
“Desiree!”
Lamont stopped, tightened her grip on the rifle and the Governor.
“I’ll kill him, Gerald.”
Bryce put his hands in the air, forgetting for a moment she couldn’t see them. His shoulder wound bled more freely without his hand covering it. A trail of blood dripped from the air down to the ground.
“Just wait. Take me with you, instead of him.”
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. Quickly she scanned his emotions to see if he spoke true. She sensed nothing from him. She kept moving, walking backward, taking Zavala with her.
“I want to go with you, Desiree. I want us to be together.”
Doubt crept into her face, displacing suspicion.
“Think of the kids, Desiree. Do you have any idea how powerful our lines would become if we combined our Lebenskraft?”
She stopped moving, surprised he used the word. Her mind raced. She considered the possibility he might be genuinely interested. She lowered the gun slightly.
“Jerry, I . . .”
Kerpow!
Her head exploded in a ball of blood, spattering the Governor and the grass. She collapsed to the ground.
Zavala wiped her blood off his face, looked around in confusion as reason began returning to him.
Bryce walked up.
“Are you alright, Governor?”
“Yes, yes, I’m fine, thank you. I need to call my wife.”
-+-
Miller and Jenkins clapped the Chief on his back.
“Wow! Hope those Europeans didn’t need any brain tissue!”
“Good shot, sir!”
He smiled in appreciation.
“It’s just like shooting a doe, gentlemen. Just like shooting a doe.”
Chapter Sixteen
Bryce finally talked Desmet into taking a break. The bespectacled Belgian had hardly taken his eyes off Desiree Lamont’s corpse since Chief Jones shot her. He had waited impatiently as the officers swarming the scene photographed the body and took statements from anybody they could find. Several fewer people were present by that time. Renard and Wilton had flown the transports back to the abandoned restaurant with the Bolshoi Boys and the body of their one casualty.
Finally, the coroner arrived and pronounced Lamont dead. Desmet produced a vid sheet showing documentation authorizing him to take custody of the body. He loaded her corpse into the cryo-coffin, then the rental van, and flew to his hotel where he pr
omptly made arrangements to fly back to The Hague.
When Bryce found him late the next morning he was sleeping in the front seat of the rental van, unwilling to leave the coffin alone. After considerable persuasion he agreed to meet with the others for lunch, but only if he could fly the rental van to the restaurant and keep an eye on it from a window.
Bryce, Parker, Miller and Jenkins met at Tia’s Flying Tacos at noon. Soon after, Desmet landed the rental van in the parking lot, and walked in with Renard.
Now that the drug was out of their systems, Miller and Jenkins were relishing the adventure, retelling tales from the previous night, each trying to outdo the other.
“And then the Chief! He was steady as a cucumber. I watched him hold his breath and squeeze that trigger . . .”
“She went down like a sack of potatoes!”
“It was the best shot I’ve ever seen! I can retire a happy man now.”
The waiter came out with iced tea and water, and everyone ordered their food. The twelve o’clock news came on the restaurant’s vid screens, and everyone quieted down. The bartender waved at the control monitor to increase the volume.
A young, attractive female anchor appeared onscreen.
“In a stunning development to the events unfolding last night, the Governor and the Mayor are holding a joint news conference today, which we will bring you live when it happens.
“As we reported earlier, the police diffused a hostage situation at the Governor’s Mansion last night involving Governor Zavala himself. Details are still sketchy at the moment, but police have said . . . wait a minute . . . Okay, the joint news conference is about to begin. Let’s listen in.”
The view switched to a podium with several people standing on it. Bryce noted the Mayor, the City Manager, the Chief, and Mrs. Zavala the Governor’s wife, all standing on the podium behind the Governor. A Texas flag was in the background.
The Governor moved behind the lectern, bent slightly toward the microphones, and looked at the camera.
“Howdy. I’d like to start by saying we are still sorting through all the events of last night, and we will have a formal statement for the press hopefully sometime later this afternoon. For right now, I’d like to take an opportunity to express my sincere gratitude to APD for the role they played in these events. Suffice it to say, I owe my life to the man behind me, Jeremiah Jones, who recently was released as Chief of Police.
