Peter Kirsanow - Target Omega

Katy dropped out of college to look after Mikey until their grandfather arrived from Europe nearly a year later. By then, Garin was an all-state running back and excelled at most everything he tried. Katy had drilled into him that he needed to treat the heart anomaly as an opportunity, a blessing. Everyone else, she insisted, was so occupied with evading death, prolonging life, that they missed living. They put things off, didn’t take risks, thinking they’d always have another chance, a better opportunity down the road.

Mikey, on the other hand, could concentrate purely on living every second as if it were his last. Taking risks he otherwise wouldn’t. Keeping absolutely nothing in reserve. He couldn’t afford to procrastinate, to say “maybe later” or “someday.” Everything took on greater urgency. People, places, and events became more vivid, more intense, more consequential. He needed to pack all of his life into half the time he’d thought he had.

Katy was right. As the grief of their parents’ death gradually receded with time, Garin had found the knowledge of his limited life span… liberating. He could take the brakes off. After all, he had almost literally nothing to lose. He was never irresponsible, but he had an indomitable quality bordering on recklessness. He had far fewer guardrails than his peers. Ironically, it made him feel almost indestructible, invincible.

After their paternal grandfather — Pop — arrived, Katy had planned on reenrolling in college, but their parents’ death benefits were meager, so she helped Pop get settled, took an administrative job at a local hospital, advanced quickly, and never looked back. She and Pop were the only ones who knew of Garin’s condition, Katy’s theft having apparently erased any record of it. Katy, protecting Mikey’s interests well into adulthood. Now, on a hot July night two decades later, it was Garin’s turn to play protector.

It took Garin nearly six hours to drive from Dale City to the Cleveland suburb where Katy lived. As he approached the intersection of her street, he could see that it had taken someone less time than that to station surveillance outside her home. Two Ford Tauruses were parked on opposite ends of Katy’s block, the light from the streetlamps outlining the heads and shoulders of two men sitting in each.

Garin drove past Katy’s street to the block behind her backyard, about fifty yards from the house itself. He turned left and parked across from the tall wooden fence that stretched across the end line of her property.

Garin sat in the car for a moment, surveying the surroundings. There were no other vehicles on the street.

The two cars on Katy’s street couldn’t be FBI. At this point, the bureau likely was still looking for Tom Lofton of Dale City, Virginia, who had absolutely no connection to Katy Burns of Brecksville, Ohio.

Garin had no idea who the sentinels out front were. He thought it unlikely they were somehow connected to his two assailants from yesterday afternoon. No one could coordinate and move that fast. Whoever they were, if any harm had come to Katy and her family, Garin would know whom to kill first.

Garin switched off the dome light. He got out of the car, closed the door gently, and scaled the back fence. Dropping to the other side, he quietly made his way past the swimming pool toward the sliding screen door at the rear of the house. A low, soft light was on in the living room. As Garin neared the screen door he could hear the sound of a television. He pulled his SIG from his pocket holster and paused at the door, listening for signs of any intruders inside the house. From where he stood he could see down the hallway leading to the front door, next to which was the security alarm panel. The light was green, signaling that the system wasn’t armed.

He expected the sliding screen door to be locked and was concerned when it slid open. He crept slowly into the sunroom and then into the kitchen. The living room was to the immediate left. His brother-in-law was seated on the couch facing the TV, his back to Garin. Joe was watching an old black-and-white movie and didn’t appear to be under duress. Garin felt a mild sense of relief, though he had already surmised that his sister’s family was safe, at least for the moment. Unless they were spectacularly incompetent, the sentinels wouldn’t have parked out front if they had caused harm inside. And if they had any involvement in the elimination of Garin’s team, they clearly weren’t unskilled.

But neither were they perfect. Maybe they had only a limited number of men, but their failure to cover the street behind Katy’s house might allow Garin to get Katy’s family to safety. First, however, he had to approach Joe without causing cardiac arrest. Katy and the kids were probably asleep upstairs. Garin decided to turn on the kitchen faucet, leading Joe to think someone had come downstairs for a drink of water.

Hearing the sound of running water, Joe asked, “Katy?” Getting no reply, he turned around and saw Garin standing next to the sink. Joe’s reaction was ideal: He was dumbstruck.

Garin raised his hand to signify that Joe should remain silent. “Joe,” Garin said quietly, “sorry to startle you. Take a second to reorient yourself and I’ll explain.”

Joe looked as if he was trying to blink away the confusion. He stood as Garin came into the living room. “Mike, what’s going on? You scared the hell out of me.” Joe looked at the pistol Garin held at his side and with greater urgency asked, “What the hell is going on?”

Garin got right to it. “Joe, I know this is going to sound bizarre, but I want you, Katy, and the kids to be prepared to leave the house in five minutes. Here’s the situation: Less than twelve hours ago, two men tried to kill me and I’m certain whoever sent them intends to finish the job. Several people close to me have also been killed in the last day. Right now, there are at least four men parked in the street outside your house who I suspect are shooters.” He paused for a moment to allow Joe to process what he had just said. “I don’t think they’re after you or your family. They’re hoping to get me. But I can’t take any chances, so I need to get you out of here.”

As a former command sergeant major who had served three tours in Iraq, Joe knew that at some point Garin had had some type of involvement with special operations. His wife’s brother would frequently disappear for varying periods of time and upon his return respond evasively to any questions about his trip. Joe had long since stopped asking questions and had told the kids Uncle Mike was some kind of big-game or treasure hunter. For her part, Katy had no illusions about what her brother did. She knew him better than anyone in the world and she was sure that in one way or another he was going after some very bad men.

Joe began to move to the staircase down the hall to get his family. As he did so, he turned partially toward Garin. “Mike, why not just call the cops?”

“Can’t do it, Joe. I wish I could tell you more, but I can’t. I know it’s tough, but please trust my judgment on this.”

“Can’t you at least tell me where we’re going?” Joe asked.

“To a safe place not far from here.”

As Joe went up the stairs he bent down and, peering between the rail posts, nodded at Garin’s weapon. “Mike.” Garin understood and put the SIG in his pocket.

“Don’t turn on any lights,” Garin cautioned. “And bring your sleeping bags and some extra clothes.”

Garin moved to the side of the front door and kept an eye on the sentinels. Within seconds after Joe had disappeared up the stairs, Garin heard the squeak of a box-spring mattress and muffled voices. The only word he could distinguish was “When?” uttered by Katy. She sounded more curious than alarmed. A few seconds later, he heard several feet padding about and the faint rustle of clothing.