''Protect the hostage,'' the Marine Captain whispered.
''I'd love to talk to those two suits,'' Kris added. ''Take'em alive if you can.''
''But they're not worth a dead Marine,'' the captain snapped.
And the door opened a crack.
35
The kidnappers tried to peek into the hall without exposing themselves. Not a bad approach.
They didn't expect Marines to kick the door in.
The sergeant not only kicked the door in, but rolled into the room himself. Behind him, his fire team took the gunners on at full automatic.
The two men trying so carefully to open the door were blasted across the room. Their blood splattered the walls behind them. Around them.
The two shooters from Kris's favorite gang dropped to the floor and tossed their pistols as far from themselves as they could.
That left two gunners and two suits. The gunners tried to take the Marines on, about a second after the Marines transferred their fire to them. That second's delay was deadly. Like the first two gunners, they became gory renditions of modern art decorating the dirty gray walls of the room.
Both of the suits now had guns in their hands.
Both swung around to blow a hole in Gramma Ruth's head.
Gramma Ruth showed why she was still around after going toe-to-toe with Iteeche warriors. They had figured that taping her to a chair would inhibit her movements.
They hadn't planned on her taking the entire chair and laying it over on its back. Suddenly, a metal chair was blocking their aim at Ruth's skull.
They started to take the two steps they needed to get a good aim at her head. At least they tried.
Neither quite made that second step. The sergeant took one. Kris got the other.
The sergeant put one round in the flaky one's pistol arm, then moved aim and put three in his body.
Kris didn't trust her skills. She put one round into her target's shoulder, then two more into his side.
Neither man got off a shot before they were spinning around. Going down.
''Check fire. Check fire!'' Captain DeVar shouted.
The Marines did. The silence was deafening.
''Medic. Medic, we got two bad guys down that we want to talk to,'' Captain DeVar shouted into the quiet.
Two Marines with Red Cross–marked bags raced into the room. They raised an eyebrow at the bodies and parts sliding off the walls and went to where Captain DeVar stood over two suits.
''You want to check Mrs. General Trouble,'' DeVar said to Kris, but she was already sliding to a stop beside Gramma Ruth.
''You okay?'' Kris said as she tugged at the tape over Ruth's mouth. Tugged gently…then ripped it free when it didn't want to come.
The bad guys had really taped Gramma's mouth. Kris could guess why.
''What took you so long?'' Gramma Ruth growled.
Kris tackled the tape that held Ruth's arms to the chair. ''We took the scenic route,'' she muttered. Just like a Longknife to have nothing but complaints for her rescuers, Kris thought.
Her hands free, Ruth helped Kris rip off the tape on her body and legs. Then started to stand up.
Ruth quickly gave that up as a bad idea.
A medic dropped down beside Kris even before she called for one. She shined a light into the old woman's eyes, asked and was told she had two fingers up. ''And now I'm getting up,'' Ruth grumbled, and they helped her stand.
She did stand, swaying a bit, but up. ''From the looks of this bunch of hardcases and heartbreakers, I'd say I've fallen into the company of Marines.''
That got an ''Ooo-Rah.'' from around the room.
''Well, in the name of General Trouble and my grandkids, may I give you my thanks on a job well done. Very well done.'' got another ''Ooo-Rah.''
Then Gramma Ruth turned to the two suits. ''What a pair of sacks of shit,'' she said.
''Dumber and dumberist,'' she growled. ''I knew they wanted to pop me one between the eyes. Pacer here kept saying it, and game player never showed anything but concern for the timing. So I figured out what I'd do ahead of time.
''Then you wonderful folks come busting in, and all they can think of is to notch my eyebrows. So I do what I knew I'd do.''
Ruth walked over and looked down at the nervous one. He was on a stretcher. The other was being loaded. ''I did what I'd planned on doing, and what did you do? You idiot, you followed right after me. That chair was no real protection. You could have ripped me a new one. You could have perforated my thighs so much they'd never find an artery to patch.''
She shook her head. ''One of you couldn't quit complaining about that ‘rich bitch,' and the other never put down his game long enough to do any thinking. If that ‘bitch' hadn't been doing your thinking for you, you'd never have gotten me here.''
Then Gramma Ruth spun on her heels to face Captain DeVar. ''I am very sorry about your Marines. They never had a chance. No one could have seen what was coming.''
''Your two local security guards?'' DeVar asked.
''Yes. That's them on the wall. What you left of them.''
Outside, the distant wail of a siren started up.
''Company's coming, troops. Let's police up the area and clear this scene,'' DeVar said firmly.
Kris held Gramma Ruth's elbow as they headed out. ''Thanks,'' the older woman said. ''I don't think I quite have my balance back. Oh, and I do need to go to the bathroom.''
''As soon as we get to the embassy,'' Kris said.
''Please hurry.''
But they paused among the boxes when a sergeant said, ''You might want to see what we found.''
A Marine was busy attacking more boxes with a crowbar, but it was easy to see from the ones open what the closed ones would show: rifles, automatic pistols, rocket grenade launchers, and boxes and boxes of ammunition for the same. A tarp had been pulled aside to show several mortars.
''This place is an armory,'' a corporal observed.
''Should we blow it up, ma'am?'' the sergeant asked.
''As much as I'd love to,'' Kris said, ''I don't think the neighborhood would much enjoy the experience. Let's leave it for the local cops to figure out. It will be interesting to see what they make of it,'' Kris said, exchanging a glance with Ruth.
There was no senior to junior in that glance. No vet to neophyte. In Ruth's eyes, Kris saw an equal approving of an equal's call.
Garage-size doors had been opened, turning the warehouse into a drive-through. Three large Marine rigs had been driven in. Two were outfitted as ambulances, the first in line was not, and looked raring to go. Kris aimed Ruth for that one.
And ran into Abby with the kids. ''Kris, I have to get these youngsters home. At least Cara. Not sure where Bronc's mom is.''
''See if you can find one of the Marines that took care of her,'' Kris said. ''I'll see you when I see you. There's lots of loose ends to tie up here.''
Abby looked around at the munitions. ''Sure looks that way. You know, a guy could start a revolution with all these toys. I wonder what they had in mind?''
''So do I,'' Kris said. ''And I think I have at least one guy alive who knows what's going on. Take all the time you need to take care of the kids…but don't take too long.''
''Oh, I just love working for you,'' Abby said, but Ruth was in the rig and the driver was gunning the engine. Kris piled in and in a second, they were headed for the embassy.
And safety.
36
Kris made it to the embassy with no further delays. They pulled up to a side entrance and Kris hustled Ruth inside…and pointed her at a restroom.
While Kris waited, the announcement came over the net that all hands had successfully withdrawn. Two scouts had been left to observe the arrival of the cops. One patrol car had been followed by two, which were reinforced by five that led to the arrival…very quickly…of, well, just about all of them.
Kris was glad to hear that. Her one fear was that the first car would relock the place and make it disappear again. If that happened, she might have to rethink her revulsion to blowing it up. But now whoever ran Eden would have to take a good, hard look at those shake-and-bake revolutionary fixings.