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The sensors showed another vehicle. This one had a heavy metal signature. Either a large truck or a van with metal in it. The last time he had seen a signature like that was when he and his buddies came back from Dahlonega after a weekend shooting against the Rangers. It actually looked an awful lot like a van full of door-kickers. Since he didn't expect reinforcements, he had to assume that it was friends of his visitor come to ensure the real orders were carried out.
«As I said,» Papa O'Neal continued, «that's a very interesting offer. Especially the rejuv. That is what we're talking about, right?»
«Yeah,» said Harold relaxing ever so slightly. «That's part of the package.»
«Well, God knows I've done some wet work in my time . . .» he said when Cally interrupted.
«Grandpa, did Daddy give you the key to this puzzle box?»
«No, honey,» he snapped, not taking his attention away from the visitor. At normal speed the van would just about be clearing the woodline. They might unload under cover and try to sneak up. Or they might barrel-ass right up to the door. If the second, they would be here in less than a minute. Which meant that time was about over for the conversation. «Figure it out yourself.»
«I'm kind of in a hurry,» said Harold as if reading his mind. «I think I need a yes or no. Now.» He leaned forward and his right hand drifted downward.
«Well, I never did like the balance on that Galactic piece of shit,» Cally said to no one in particular. There was a sound of a slide drawing back.
Mike Senior closed his eyes just in time to block out the blood and brains from Harold Locke's head as an exploding .380 round from Cally's Walther PPK opened it up like a melon.
He wiped his eyes, lunged to his feet and spit the soft-boiled-egg-like brains out of his mouth. «Good work, girl, but we got company.»
«I know,» she said. «That's why I hurried. I was hoping he'd give some more away. Bunker?»
«Yeah.» He paused for just a moment as she carefully safed the small pistol and started towards the command bunker. «How did you know?»
«Your right hand twitches when you've got losing cards. That and you lied about the beeper.» She didn't mention her first reaction. Why she had started trying to open the puzzle box right after they came in. It was because the man had looked at her like Grandpa looked at a chicken he was about to harvest.
He nodded his head and smiled. «I don't think you learned that from your father, did you?»
«No,» she said, thumbing towards the door out in obvious emphasis. «But Dad didn't teach me how to play cards. Mom did. Let's go.»
CHAPTER 54
Rabun County, GA, United States Of America, Sol III
0325 EDT October 11th, 2004 ad
The team leader's head came up at the crack of the pistol round and he shook it violently. There were two protectees though. One was a young female and the profile on the assassin did not make that a pretty picture. There was still a mission; the question would be how to proceed.
He waved for the point to stop and turned to the technical expert. That worthy was deciphering the readout from the Galactic-supplied life sensors. He made a motion for three humans, one terminated. One male, one female alive. Male and female were moving.
The team leader checked the location and gave the point hand signals to move to the opposite side of the house and do a covert entry. He waited impatiently for more intelligence.
* * *
Mike Senior finished strapping Cally into the Kevlar battle armor and threw his own on. Cally had pulled down her British 7.62 Bullpup and the sight of her with pistol and rifle made him think of other ways to spell her name. The drying blood flecked through her blonde hair was a sight to behold.
«You're a mess, Grandpa.»
«You don't look so hot yourself,» he snorted, fixing the last two straps in place and picking up his MP-5. The friction sling rode smoothly and he hopped up and down for a second to ensure there weren't any rattles. «And the living room is going to be a bitch to get cleaned up.»
«Sorry about shooting him, then. Not.»
* * *
The point monk checked the window for entry. He popped up a microcam and sca
* * *
«They're in the downstairs guest bedroom,» said Papa O'Neal. The command bunker was co
«Who is it?» asked Cally, sliding her Bullpup behind her back and checking the mine controls. She got the fun part; her job was detonating them on Papa O'Neal's command. Well, she might let Papa O'Neal try a few. If he was nice.
«Hmm, lemme see,» answered Mike Senior. «Black body armor. Black ski masks. Black weapons. Black boots. Gee, Santa Claus?»
«Police?»
«No, they'd have it across their backs in great big letters,» said Papa O'Neal, gesturing at the picture of the point moving stealthily down the hallway. «They're good, though. Shame we're go
* * *
The point froze at the entrance to the living room. The body slumped across the rawhide chair was not one of the protectees. It appeared to be the target. He began to relax out of his crouch.
* * *
«That's odd,» said Papa O'Neal.
«What?» asked Cally, ru
«He just relaxed. If he was backup for Harold he should be more tense, not less.»
«What else could he be?»
«I don't know. But it's odd.»
* * *
The team leader looked at the tech with a puzzled expression in his eyes. Then he shrugged, picked up his cell phone and consulted a scrap of paper.
* * *
A red light over the phone in the bunker began to blink. Papa O'Neal looked at it with a puzzled expression and picked it up.
«Michael O'Neal, Senior?» asked a faintly accented voice on the phone.
«Yes,» said Papa O'Neal, warily.
«Are you and Cally O'Neal in good condition?»
«Yes.»
«In general, if I might ask, where are you?»
Mike Senior chuckled evilly. «In a command bunker watching you and your point scratching your heads. Smile for the cameras!»
«Ah,» said the commando, cautiously. «We were ordered to respond to protect you from one Harold Locke, an operative of . . . An operative who had been given a contract on you. You are in good health?»
«Yes.»
«Oh. That is good. We will withdraw then.»
«Okay,» Papa O'Neal agreed warily. «You'll understand if we don't invite you to tea?»
There was a dry chuckle. «Of course. Question: Do you want us to dispose of the body or would you prefer to yourself?»