flash-bangs he'd brought along. He yanked the safety pin but held the clip in place as he drew one of the H-Ks.
Then he pounded his fist on the door.
C30
With the dish reception shot due to the storm, Diana had started the DVD of her favorite film, Napoleon Dynamite. Cal tried to watch but found it a lost cause. He saw why she might identify with a movie about geeks who simply can't fit in with the rest of the world. She probably saw herself as the ultimate geek.
He glanced at the other two occupants of the room: Lewis was dozing on the couch while Geraci fiddled with the puzzle.
He wandered over to the harborside picture window. No letup in the snow. At least the ocean wasn't acting up.
He was turning away from the window when the snow suddenly thinned and revealed what looked like a winding trail of indentations through the snow. Instantly the storm thickened again and hid it from view. Wind could sculpt weird patterns in snow, but this had looked like footprints.
Crazy. Couldn't be. But he stayed at the window and waited for another break. And when it came he was ready.
There—a zigzagging line of shallow depressions. Had to be footprints. Goddamn! Someone had come off the harbor!
He ducked away from the window and yelled, "We've got company!"
Geraci leaped to his feet. "Where?"
Lewis mumbled a "Huh?" from the couch.
"Footprints outside. Go down and tell Cousino and Finan"—this was their watch—"and wake up Dunsmore and tell Grell and Novak."
As Geraci pounded down the stairs, Cal pointed to Lewis.
"Get these lights off."
He hurried over to where Diana sat lost in her movie. Nothing he'd said had registered. He grabbed her under an arm and pulled her from the TV.
"Hey!" she said with no little indignation. "What're you doing?"
"Taking you to your room. Someone's here who shouldn't be!"
The indignation vanished in a gasp. "Oh, no!"
Keeping himself between her and the sliding glass deck doors, he guided her to her room.
"Keep the lights out and sit in the closet until we straighten this out."
He left her, closing the door behind him. When he came out he found Geraci bounding up the steps.
"You won't believe this. Someone's knocking on the door."
"Knocking?" That was just about the last thing Cal had expected.
Geraci started for the sliding glass doors. "I'm gonna go out on the deck and have a peek."
"No! That might be what they want. They could have a sniper out there waiting for us to do just that. Stay low and stay ready. I'm going downstairs."
All the bedroom doors had been closed so it was safe to leave the center hallway lit. Cal raced to the laundry room that served as the house's vestibule. He found five of his men clustered around the entrance, weapons out and trained on the door. He pushed through and took a look through the peephole. At the very edge of his view he saw someone in a hooded white parka sitting on the first step. Looked like a woman leaning on the newel post.
He pounded on the inside of the door.
"Hey! Hey, you!"
No movement—no sign of life, for that matter. He turned to the men.
"All right. We've practiced this. You know what to do. You see anything at all suspicious, do not hesitate to shoot. I'm going upstairs to cover the 0."
As he turned and hurried back to the stairs, he saw Cousino, Finan, Grell, and Novak stacked high and low on either side of the laundry room, their pistols trained on the door. They would stay covered while Dunsmore unlocked it, then he would stay behind it as it swung inward.
Cal had just reached the top of the stairs when he heard a deafening BOOM! from behind; a bright flash stretched his shadow before him.
Flash-bang!
Jack watched the door swing inward. Popped the clip on the grenade and started counting.
One thousand and one …
"Who's there?" said a voice from within.
… one thousand and two…
"You out there—what do you want?"
… one thousand and three …
Tucked the H-K into his belt as he tossed the grenade through the opening, then turned his back to the door, closed his eyes, and held his ears. The M84 exploded with a 180-decibel boom and a million-candela flash. Anyone in the vicinity was going to be deaf, blind, and disoriented for the next few minutes. Certainly in no shape to get in his way.
After the detonation, Jack grabbed the rope and hauled himself up to the deck. As soon as he slid over the railing he brought out another M84 and re-claimed the H-K. Pulled the pin with his teeth, flipped the clip, and started another count.
One thousand and one… one thousand and two . . .
Fired a vertical line of five Devastators down the center of the sliding glass door. As the explosive bullets shattered the glass into countless fragments, he tossed the second grenade inside.
CZH)
Cal hung over the railing and listened. He heard cries from the men but couldn't understand them.
"Who's down?" he called. "Anyone still mobile come to the stairs and—"
He heard a fusillade of shots behind him as the glass door exploded inward. He turned, pistol raised, and started firing at the door. Then he saw the silhouette of a canlike object float through the air into the room.
"Flash-bang!" he shouted as he dropped his weapon, squeezed his eyes shut, and jammed his fingers into his ears.
The room must have gone bright as the sun because the light blinded him through his eyelids. And then a noise louder than anything he'd imagined possible spiked around his fingers and into his eardrums.
CZJD
After the flash-bang, Jack leaped through the hole in the window into a large dark room. The room he wanted—he prayed he'd figured this right—lay to the right. In the wash of light from the outside spots he made his way to the door. He was reasonably sure Diana was in there, but who else?
He dropped to the floor, rolled onto his back and kicked the door open.
No shots, no one even asking who was there. Just the whimper of a frightened child. Again, he had enough light from outside to make out the outlines of the furniture. He followed the sound to a closet. When he pulled the door open he found Diana cowering on the floor. He flicked on his flashlight and saw her black, tear-filled eyes staring up at him.
She screamed.
C3Q
It took Cal time to reorient himself. He'd been knocked to his knees. Now he staggered to his feet and looked around. Through the huge purple blob of af-terflash floating in his vision he made out Geraci and Lewis writhing on the floor. Over the roar in his ears he heard them moaning about being blind and deaf. They hadn't been able to react in time.
Cal stood swaying, shaking his head to rid himself of the buzzing in his skull, blinking to fade the afterflash, and wondering why he and the others were still alive, why their attackers hadn't finished them when they were down and defenseless.
Then he heard a high-pitched scream. He whirled toward Diana's room and saw her open door.
No!
He dropped to the floor, found his pistol, then charged the doorway.
"Diana!"
He lurched into the room, found the light switch and, dreading what he'd find, turned it on.
At first he wasn't sure what he was seeing. Diana knelt in the doorway of her closet, looking alive and well but terrified. Behind her, in the closet, crouched a man in a flannel shirt and white ski pants. Cal had to blink a few times before he recognized him.
"You!" He started to raise his pistol—
"Uh-uh. Put that down."
The words sounded far away. Then his bladder clenched as he saw the muzzle of one of the yeniceri's own H-Ks pressed against Diana's throat.