John Miller - Side by Side

Serge thought about it as he stared into the agent’s hard eyes. He had a talent for detecting lies and she was not lying. This was a woman who was tired of being taken for granted, a woman who wanted to make the kind of money the firm could pay her. Just like her younger sister, this one had a sociopathic, selfish bent. Alexa Keen was one hard-core bitch. She’d go along with killing the Dockerys. And with killing the Smoots, who had been set up to take the blame.

“Okay,” he said. “Fine. Show us how to do this right.”

“First off,” the FBI agent said, “you can’t just take machine guns and shoot up the place, because the evidence recovery team won’t buy it. Bodies and buildings riddled with holes won’t work. No redneck kidnapper would do that. The subjects have to be put down with a knife, or a bullet in each skull. And preferably not before Monday in case Fondren needs proof of life.”

“We altered the timeline,” Max said. “This can’t wait. We do them now, especially with Massey somewhere out there. We’ll stash them dead and you can find them on Monday. I never saw why they had to be found at all.”

“Because,” Alexa said, sternly, “unless I find them, I won’t get the publicity. I won’t be able to control the evidence, so I won’t get my payoff, my reputation won’t be enhanced so I can’t open my security firm, and you won’t have a name to put on the large checks you are going to write me over the next ten or fifteen years. That’s why. Do it my way or I’m out of this.”

“If you’re out, you’re dead,” Serge said.

“You touch a hair on her head,” the Major said, “and you’ll have to shoot me, too. I die, the chain breaks. Without the contacts I have, Bryce will get the needle.”

“Okay,” Max said. “Hell with it. But first thing that goes queer on this deal, and sis’s dead and we’ll sanitize everything down to bare dirt.”

“Fine,” Major Keen said. “If Alexa’s not on the level, you can kill her as many times as you like.”

“So,” Serge said. “How do we do this?”

“What are we facing?” Alexa asked.

“An old couple inside. Man’s armed. They won’t give up the Dockerys without a fight.”

“So, any ideas?” Serge asked the agent.

“The oldest one in the book,” the agent told him. “How’s your Greek history?”

Winter Massey used the woods as cover to reconnoiter the store. Two men in black BDUs in front of the place, one of the Smoot twins off by himself. Sarnov, Randall, Alexa, and Antonia Keen having a discussion out of earshot of the others.

He picked his way around to the back where Peanut Smoot and the other twin were guarding the rear, using the black truck for cover and lighting. The twin stood beside the truck, aiming his shotgun at the store. Peanut was behind the open driver’s door, holding a handgun casually.

It was a siege. Someone was inside the building holding the Smoots at bay. Winter’s ear caught the unmistakable sound of a child crying. It had to be Elijah Dockery. He had no idea where Dixie and Buck Smoot were, but he doubted they were inside the store. Was it possible that Lucy had somehow escaped and made it here?

Winter figured his odds with a frontal assault were all against him. The men in assault suits wore ballistic vests, and his flashes would instantly give away his position. The Hydroshock slugs might not penetrate the vests, but they would break or at the least shatter ribs, take the men off their feet for a while. Inside twenty-five yards, the 00 buckshot pellets would remain within a twelve-inch cluster. He was more accurate with a handgun, but as soon as he started shooting, all of the targets would be firing at him, and he’d never get a chance to use his pistol. Even with tree cover, his chances of surviving the first few seconds were not good.

The twins had shotguns-probably three-inch Magnums loaded with buckshot-Peanut was brandishing a large revolver, the three men in black had MP5s, and Sarnov probably had a pistol. Alexa was carrying a Glock.40. As far as Winter could tell, only Antonia had no weapon.

Winter couldn’t imagine shooting Alexa, but he well might have to, and he knew he could. Her killing a woman and child was more incomprehensible. He was amazed that she could have hidden her true self so effectively for so many years.

“Ed and Edna!” Peanut hollered. “Send the woman and kid on out. I’ll let both you live. You got my word on it. Ain’t like they’re your kin. She killed my Dixie and Buck. I can’t allow that to go unanswered.”

“If you’ve seen the condition this young lady’s in, you know that whatever happened to your kids was a site less than your kin deserved!”

Winter knew he had to act before the people out front spread out. These people were all accustomed to violence.

His only advantage at that moment was that nobody knew he was there. Surprise only took you so far, and sometimes the surprise was yours.

With Elijah clutched to her, Lucy Dockery huddled beside the refrigerator where Ed had put them. Edna sat beside her, back to the wall, holding a pistol in her lap. Ed had dead-bolted the door into the store. He had reinforced it so that in the event someone broke in, they’d make a racket trying to get into the back where the Utzes lived. The Smoots might come in that way, but they’d be ready for them.

“What will prevent them from setting the place on fire?” Lucy asked.

“Nothing,” Ed had answered.

It was obvious to everyone in the store that Peanut Smoot had somehow kept the fire department and the cops away. The warehouse fire was probably out by now. Lucy didn’t hold out much hope of help arriving. But she had tried her best, and had done more than she’d ever believed she could. She was heartbroken that Eli was going to die, and she regretted that she had gotten the Utzes involved.

“I hear a car.” Ed peeked out through the window blinds. “There’s lights. .”

Lucy heard a thunderous sound, and a vehicle roared around the building. Several more shots rang out.

A woman yelled, “FBI! Put down your weapons!”

“I’ll be,” Ed said excitedly. “The danged cavalry’s here!”

“Don’t shoot!” Peanut called. “We give up!”

Ed nodded. “Looks like old Peanut’s done in.” He set his shotgun against the wall and straightened up.

“You, in the store!” the female voice called out. “Hold your fire. I’m Special FBI Agent Alexa Keen. Are Lucy and Eli Dockery in there?”

“They sure are!” Ed answered.

“Unlock the door. I’m coming in.”

“I know who she is,” Lucy said, softly. “My father talks about her.”

“Come on in,” Ed called out.

Ed unlocked and opened the door and a woman dressed in a business suit came into the kitchen, backlit by the big truck’s headlights. She had a gun in her right hand, a badge in her left. She closed the door behind her, put her badge away, and, at the sight of Lucy and Eli, smiled.

“Are you all right?” she asked Lucy.

“I’m fine now that you’re here,” Lucy told her.

“No, you aren’t,” a man’s voice said.

A man with a black face stood aiming a shotgun directly at the federal agent’s head. “She’s with them,” he said. “Drop your weapon, Alexa. Sir, stay away from that gun. Ma’am, you keep that pistol where it is. Sir, bolt that door or the next person who comes through it will be Peanut Smoot.”

Serge Sarnov watched the FBI agent go into the building. She had said she should have the old man disarmed in short order, just needed a couple of minutes to reassure the people inside that they were safe, and then she would let Randall and him enter and take the Dockerys.