by L.T. Ryan
Chapter 11
I cut the lights and moved into the next room and took position against the wall next to the double window. A lace curtain hung over the window panes. I peeled it back and parted the blinds with my fingers. A dark sedan was parked at the end of the driveway. Scanning the yard, I spotted two men, both dressed in dark suits. They didn’t appear to be armed, but I wouldn’t trust the outward appearance. Armed and dangerous would be the appropriate term. These guys had all the markings of government spooks, Federal agents, maybe even assassins. They hung out at the base of the driveway. One spoke on a radio or cell phone. He stood at an angle and his head blocked the device he spoke into. His other arm waved in circles as he spoke.
I clutched my Beretta M9 tightly. The only thing that stood between me and them was a glass window and I was prepared to break it and open fire if necessary. I went into the woods with two full clips earlier. I’d emptied one and fired three shots from the second. That meant I had twelve rounds at my disposal, which would be more than enough to take care of these guys.
The man with on the phone or radio shook his head and stuffed the device in his pocket. He said something to his partner and they both turned to face the house. The window next to me was open a crack, but I couldn’t hear what they said. The two men started toward the house, walking slowly. Both pulled their weapons, holding them low with both hands.
I needed a plan and needed it to form fast. There were two men in front which meant that meant there were probably two out back. There was no way these guys would come here alone. Were they the men from earlier, the shooters in the woods? Had they really managed to follow us to Charlottesville? I guess it was possible, but it didn’t add up. The car looked similar, but it was dark now just like it was dark when I rammed the shooters’ car while leaving the park.
The only solution I came up with involved me barging out of the house, guns blazing. Not the ideal choice. Getting into a shooting match with trained agents, killers or not, was not high on my priority list. I crouched down and took a look through the open part of the window. I set the barrel of my gun on the window sill. I had a clear shot at them if they took the porch steps. The only barrier was the screen. No glass to break.
The men were close enough that I could make out certain words spoken in hushed tones. They didn’t say much, but hearing “Noble” was enough. They knew exactly who I was. They knew exactly where I was. Just like the man on the phone said. Could one of them be the man on the phone? I doubted that. For one, someone that brazen wouldn’t be in the field. So it had to be their boss, or their boss’s boss.
The faint sound of a cell phone ring-tone filled the air. The men stopped and the agent pulled his phone from his pocket. His voice rose. “What the hell do you mean?” He stepped back during a long pause. “Yeah, OK. OK, we’re going.” He turned and hurried to the car. His partner walked backward with him. He raised his gun and kept it aimed at the house. He fumbled behind his back for the door handle of the car and then slipped into the driver’s seat. The sedan roared to life, then rolled away, stopping at the stop sign at the end of the street only a few houses down. The car turned right and disappeared from view.
I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes and listened. Silence filled the house. Silence crept through the open window from outside. Had they turned the corner and cut the engine? Were they now on foot returning to the house? Did they leave the neighborhood?
I took a deep breath and returned to the den.
“Can you see the side street from upstairs?”
“What?” Jessie said.
“The side street.” I pointed toward the other room. “The main road, whatever. Can you see it from anywhere in here?”
She shook her head and said, “No.”
“We have to get out of here. Jess, is your car in the garage?”
“Why?”
“Don’t ask me why.” My voice rose. I took a deep breath and regained control. “Is it or isn’t it?”
She bit her lip and looked to the side.
“Yeah, it’s in there.”
“OK, grab the keys. We need to go.”
“Where?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Let’s go.”
Bear got up and walked toward the kitchen.
“Garage is that way.” She pointed to a hall on the other side of the den. “Do I need to bring anything?”
“Yeah.” I turned to walk away then paused. “But there’s no time. Any minute now they are going to start shooting.”
“What?” She grabbed her purse and pulled out her keys, blowing by me and Bear on her way to the garage.
I could be right. Most likely I was wrong. But I had no intentions of waiting around to find out.
I took one last look through the front window, and then, satisfied the spooks weren’t out there, went to the garage. I stepped through the open doorway. Bear and Jessie were already inside her white Chevy Tahoe. Bear sat in the passenger seat and Jessie behind the wheel.
“I’m driving,” I said, standing in between her and the door, preventing her from shutting it.
“This is my car, Jack,” she said. “I’m driving.”
“Get in back, Jess.”
She screamed and slammed her hands down on the steering wheel. The loud horn blared and echoed throughout the garage.
I shook my head and stared at her. “If they are just around the corner, they likely heard that.”
“Sorry,” she said and then she threw her hands in the air. “Fine. You drive.” She turned in the seat and brought her legs up. Slipped between the two front seats and sat down in the middle row.
“You could have used the door.”
“And risk touching you? No thanks.” She turned away and stared out the window at a wall covered with rakes and gardening tools.
Bear laughed and shook his head.
“You think that’s funny?” I said. “We got God knows who chasing us, ready to kill us, and you laugh at her jokes.”
I turned the key in the ignition. The Tahoe’s V-8 engine roared into life, flooding my ears as it reverberated through the garage.
Jessie cleared her throat and leaned forward, pointing toward the console on the ceiling of the Tahoe. “The garage door opener is right—”
I ignored her and threw the car into reverse and smashed through the garage door.
“What hell, Jack? My garage!”
I gunned the car down the driveway, slammed on the brakes and turned the wheel, sending us screeching backward into the street. I shifted into drive and raced to the stop sign, coming to a quick halt. I looked left and saw nothing, and then I looked right. I saw the spooks a few blocks away, parked behind Abbot’s Audi. At that moment I realized it was the car. They had been tracking us with the car somehow.
I looked over at Bear. He stared out the window at the dark sedan parked behind the Audi. His head bobbed up and down.
“The car,” he muttered, reaching the same conclusion as me.
They must not have heard the Tahoe smash through the garage door, because they didn’t move or turn to look in our direction. I tapped the gas and turned left and drove down the street with the lights off until I reached the main road.
