J Saint - Collateral Damage

"I'll get back to you shortly. I may need more info on the situation as well. I have a call in to the SOO handling this. He's a real SOB stickler who everyone calls 'director'. I doubt he'll tell me anything, but it's worth a try."

"Thanks, Dean. I owe you one."

"You owe me three, Rog. Don't worry, I aim to collect. Next time you're in D.C. buzz me and we'll hit the town. It's been months since I've enjoyed my bachelor status."

Roger set his gaze on Mari. He wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. "We'll see. You might have to find another partner in crime."

"What? Jesus, Roger. You can't be serious. Who is she?"

"No. You've got the wrong idea. She-" Mari sat up abruptly, crying out. "Gotta go. Later." Roger disconnected. He meant to leave his cousin Paul a message or at least speak to his chief of staff about the can of worms DT had crawled into and what it might mean to the public spin on the Lebanon disaster, but set that task aside for now. He wasn't sure the call needed to be made yet, and Mari's need was evident.

Lavonia, Georgia

The moment Jack disconnected from Weston, Lauren waved Bill's letter at him.

"Bill would have never used the expression Yahoo or Viva Las Vegas. They were beneath him. What if it's a clue for an email address?"

"Good thinking." Jack pulled the computer toward him. "Any of that in quotations?"

"Grand Jackpot and Viva Las Vegas." Using the opposite order as they had with the bank information. Jack signed onto Yahoo! and pulled up an email account. "You nailed it, Lauren."

The cell rang, displaying an unfamiliar number.

Jack answered.

"Who is this?" the woman demanded.

"Who are you calling?" Jack countered. Lauren looked up from Bill's letter.

"Lauren Collin's left this number. I'm Sarah Cantrell."

"Sarah Cantrell. Hold on." Jack handed the phone to Lauren. What needed to be said would best come from someone the woman knew. If Sarah was calling, it didn't eliminate Bob off the culprit list, but it did lower the odds.

Lauren clutched the phone. "Sarah? It's Lauren."

"Hey. I've been meaning to call. See how you're doing. What's this about danger? We're fine."

"Where's Bob?"

Jack leaned in close to hear the call too. Lauren adjusted the receiver his way.

"Robert went to his office straight from the airport. We've been in Pebble Beach."

"Sarah. Listen. This is going to be unbelievable but, Bill's dead and somebody is killing his friends. Thomas. Edward. Conrad. They're all dead."

"What? We were just with Edward yesterday morning. I have phone messages from Thomas from then too, wanting Robert to call about a letter from Bill. Asked if Robert got one too."

"Does Bob have one?"

"I don't know. We haven't checked the mail yet."

"Then don't. I think you need to get out of there now. Get to a neighbor's house. Someplace safe, and call me back. I really need to talk to Bob. This is very serious."

"Lauren, I've got great security. And there is a letter here from Bill. Let me open it."

"Sarah. Get someplace safe first."

Glass shattered. "Jesus. I think someone just broke into the house."

"Get out, Sarah. Get out of the house!" Lauren cried. Jack wrapped his arm around her shaking shoulders.

Sarah screamed, a chilling cry of terror. It gripped the gut and jerked hard. The line went dead, leaving him and Lauren dying inside to do something.

"Jack!" Horror was etched deep on her soul.

She looked at him, and he wished to God he really was Superman. "I heard. I'm calling the local police. What is the address?" He went across the room to his computer and the throw-away cell phone they'd bought earlier.

"I don't know! They live in Tampa. Bayshore something. Robert and Sarah Cantrell."

Jack started Googling the Cantrells and called the local police. He found their address via the phone number, but had to repeat the emergency three different times to three different people before someone finally got it and took action by dispatching the emergency call. "The police are on their way. What kind of office does Bob have?"

"I'm not sure. God." Lauren scrubbed her palms against her pale face.

"Take several deep breaths and try. If you hadn't been on the phone with her then she wouldn't be getting help now. You have to believe they're going to reach her in time, okay?"

She nodded. "I think Bob has several law offices that he's the head of."

Jack Googled and found three offices in the Tampa area bearing the name Robert Cantrell and Associates. It was after hours. A recording directed him to use the email directory on the company website for messages and after-hours assistance. Jack sent Cantrell an emergency message.

Your wife is being attacked. Bill, Thomas, Edward and Conrad are dead. You are in danger. Call Lauren Collins. He included the cell phone number and hit send. "All we can do now is wait."

"I know, but knowing that doesn't make sitting here any easier. I should have done something more."

Jack exhaled hard. He felt the same way. "What? Until twenty minutes ago, the Cantrells were out of town. We suspected Bill's friends were being targeted after finding out about Thomas and Edward this morning, but weren't positive until Gardner. We called and warned them twice, we called for the police to check on them. So unless you knew of another way to reach them or we were able to instantly transport ourselves there after being attacked at Gardner's, I'm not sure what could have been-"

He heard a scraping sound outside the windows behind him and to his left. It was dark outside and the worn curtains left a sliver of a gap in the middle, directly in line to where Lauren stood near the bathroom on the other side of the room.

Jack shot out of his seat, P226 in hand. He jumped onto one bed, leapt to the other and landed on the ground next to Lauren in a split second. He shoved her into the bathroom and managed to crouch into a firing position just as the window shattered. Bullets slammed into the drywall behind him.

"Lock the door," he yelled to Lauren and took cover behind the TV credenza. Tear gas landed in the room, spewing, and a gas-masked man in black rolled inside, pistol in hand. He slid next to the bed. Jack's stomach churned. He had only had seconds to deal with the man before the tear gas would incapacitate him.

Jack took aim and waited carefully for the man. He wanted answers from this guy. He could see the shooter's dark shape reflected in the glass-covered picture hanging over the bed. Jack saw the man shift and Jack fired, aiming for the man's gun hand. Jack aced the shot, the man's gun went flying, and Jack barreled forward. The man did a surprise flip and kicked the gun out of Jack's hand. Shit.

Jack came at the man's midsection and thrust upward, slamming the heel of his palm beneath the man's chin and snapping the SOB's head back, but the man twisted, escaping the deadly force behind Jack's blow.

The man aimed for Jack's jugular notch to crush his windpipe, but Jack caught the man's wrist and shifted, rotating the guy's arm, bending it backward hard.

The man grunted and retaliated by chopping at Jack's neck, trying to stun with a forearm blow to the sensitive nerves there. Jack had to twist away and lost his grip on the man's arm.

The fight was fast and lethal, both of them trained and experienced in deadly hand to hand combat.

But Jack was losing ground. The tear gas had his eyes pouring and his lungs burning. He managed to rip off the attacker's gas mask, evening the playing field as the choking fog of tear gas thickened.

The man stepped back and drew a knife. Jack charged forward, deflecting the man's thrust, and latching on to the man's hand as he shoved the SOB backward. The table splintered and they both crashed to the floor, rolling and fighting for the upper hand.