Firebolt

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

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The guard and the driver brought Zinn into the house, but just as I was about to make my move, another guard came out. He slid open the glass door and stepped out under the eaves where he could shelter from the rain. The guards David Zinn had hired were clearly smart enough to realize that the forested hill at the back of the property was the spot any attackers would most likely come from. Of course, it was too late to worry about that because it had already happened. The attacker in question was behind the pool shed. Not knowing this to be the case, the new guard was peering out through the rain into the shadows of the forest. I ducked back behind the shed so he wouldn’t catch a glimpse of me.

I hadn’t seen this one before, which meant I didn’t really know how many men there were in the building. But it was worse than that. While I was watching the house from the tree-line, I was dealing with an exhausted, soaking wet and demoralized man who probably didn’t really believe anything would happen that night. Everything about the man’s body language had spoken of apathy and resignation, which is why I was able to get so far. Now the situation was completely different – the new guard was awake, alert and at least moderately professional.

As for me, I was cold and wet and increasingly miserable. The tactical set-up was no longer in my favor, but it was also getting worse with every passing minute. The new guy probably wouldn’t lose his edge for three or four hours, and without the tarp over my head I’d be washed away by the rain by the time that happened. I had to make my move.

I decided to take advantage of the one vulnerability I knew they still had. They knew there was a possibility someone would come, and they correctly believed that the forest was the spot to watch for. It was all but impossible to see anything in the dark of the rain storm, so they would naturally interpret any gunfire as coming from the forest. With any luck, the guard inside the house would actually try to get his client to the car and remove him from the scene while the guard out back engaged the attackers.

I pointed my gun up at the clouds and fired a single shot. The effect was startling, even though I had put the events in motion myself. All the lights in the house seemed to go off at once, and the guard drew his weapon and opened fire. Someone else did the same from an open window, and a third guy followed suit a few seconds later – perhaps the driver. The night lit up with muzzle flashes and the crack of bullets cutting through branches and plowing at high speed into tree trunks. It was like an artificial lightning storm, complete with thunder.

I took the opportunity to run around behind the back of the pool and get out to the driveway, where David Zinn’s vehicle gave me something convenient to crouch behind. Ducking down low to avoid being seen by the bodyguards, all I could see in front of me as I ran was dark, wet pavement. The shooting went on for a long time, and I realized they must be panicking at what they probably assumed was a much larger attack. Not so professional after all, as it turns out.

Just as I had been hoping, the front door opened, and a man with a gun came out and looked around wildly in all directions. The man who had been on guard before. So far, so good. He gestured behind him, and the driver came scurrying out like a frightened cockroach. He must have seen my legs under the car, because he suddenly pointed and yelled something, and then they both started shooting. I scooted over as quickly as I could to get behind the engine block, and the two frightened men filled David Zinn’s Lincoln with every bullet they had left. The windows exploded, and glass dust rained down from every direction. Bullets came whining at high speed through metal and leather, totaling the vehicle in less time than it would take you to buckle your seatbelt. The alarm went off, and the high-pitched siren split the mountain night like some enraged and monstrous bird.

“Get back inside!” yelled the guard, fumbling as he tried to get a new clip in his weapon. I stood straight up, aiming the gun in the man’s face.

“Let’s all go in. But drop your gun first.”

He should have done exactly that, but he was no better at giving up the fight than he had been at winning it while he still could have. He raised his weapon as if to fire, so I put a round in him and he dropped his weapon, falling backward into the doorway with an expression of horror and pain on his face. The driver cried out, running back into the living room as if there was some chance of escape in that direction.

“You just shot me!” said the guard accusingly, as if I might apologize if someone confronted me with my misdeeds.

“I could shoot you again,” I pointed out. He crouched down like a kicked dog and let me step right over him, ruling himself out of a spot in the Bodyguards’ Hall of Fame. The wound was in his right shoulder, quite survivable.

The driver tripped, planting himself face first in the carpet at the feet of his boss. David Zinn stared down at him, as if he couldn’t believe what sort of men he had hired.

“Where did you find these guys?” I said. “Fiver?”

“I might as well have,” said Zinn.

The screen door flew open, and the last of the three guards came in shooting. He almost killed me, as my little witticism about the hired help had distracted me from the task at hand. Three shots in quick succession, two of which blasted holes in the wall behind me and to my left, while the third annihilated a lamp next to the wraparound leather couch.

“Oh, for f**k’s sake!” I said, annoyed, and fired three shots at him which also missed. He ducked back outside, but his boss called out to him.

“Stop shooting, Daniel! Hold your fire! You’re going to kill me quicker than you kill this guy!”

Daniel didn’t say anything.

“Should we try talking instead?” asked David.

“I’ll try anything once,” I answered.