“I’ll take the responsibility,” Holly replied. “You just wait here.” She ran up the driveway toward the clubhouse, keeping to the grass verge of the roadway, ready to jump into the bushes, if necessary. Ahead, she could see the parking lot, and it was full. A man with an automatic weapon stood guard at a corner of the building; she couldn’t go farther without engaging him, and she couldn’t see into the clubhouse from where she stood. She ran to an oak tree, holstered her weapon and began climbing. “Daisy, stay and guard,” she said to the dog.
Daisy sat down at the base of the tree and stared into the darkness.
Holly stopped when she was twenty feet up. She had a clear view of the dining room, and what she saw appalled her. The huge room was jammed with people in evening dress, dancing to a rock band. This was no staff party, she thought. She climbed back down the tree, dropping the last six feet, then ran back to the van with Daisy and got in. She picked up the radio. “Harry,” she said.
“No transmissions, except as planned,” Harry’s voice said irritably.
“Listen to me,” she said. “Emergency.”
“Go,” Harry replied.
“There’s a huge party going on at building CC. You read me? There must be three hundred people in there, you understand?”
Harry slammed his fist on the table. “Holy shit, we’re in trouble!”
“What is she talking about?” Jackson asked.
“The country club! They’re all at the fucking country club, and our people are going to be hitting empty houses!”
“Can’t you change the orders?”
“I guess I don’t have a choice,” Harry said, looking at the team lists on the table before him. He pressed the transmit button. “Attention all parties,” he said, his voice cracking with tension. “Emergency change of plans. Teams one, two, three, continue as planned and hold your objectives. All other teams—everybody else—mass two hundred yards from the clubhouse building. I say again: all other teams except one, two, and three, mass two hundred yards from the clubhouse building and wait for further instructions. Employ maximum concealment possible, maximum concealment. Team four, immediately on securing your objective, penetrate and neutralize security at clubhouse. Use extreme caution and any necessary prejudice. Team four, report when original objective secured.”
“Team four, wilco,” Holly said into the radio. “New assignment, guys,” she said to the other men in the van. “We take out clubhouse security, then go in on Harry’s command. And remember, a lot of the staff at the clubhouse is going to be packing.”
Harry pressed the transmit button again. “Attention all personneclass="underline" clubhouse staff is likely to be armed.”
Holly’s van had reached the darkened village. “About the fourth or fifth building on your right,” she said. “Slow down…stop!” She leapt out of the van and ran through the unlocked front door of the security office. “Daisy! Stay with me!” She followed a hallway and came into a large room with a bank of radios along one wall. A shrill shriek seemed to come from all of them, and a uniformed man was trying to use the telephone.
“Freeze! Police and FBI!” she shouted, and the man stood up, his hands in the air. An agent took the pistol from his belt and started to handcuff him. “Not yet!” Holly commanded. She grabbed the security man by his necktie and dragged him to a large wall map of Palmetto Gardens. “Where does Barney Noble live?” she said.
The man looked at her as if she were insane. “What?” he said.
Someone cuffed him across the back of his head. “Talk to the lady!” the agent said.
“Where does Barney Noble live?” she repeated.
The agent pointed to a house not far from the rear service gate. “Right there,” he said.
“Handcuff him to something, and follow me,” Holly said. She grabbed her radio. “Five,” she said. “Team four to clubhouse.” Then she ran for the van.
CHAPTER
59
Harry Crisp jumped out of his seat. “There’s five!” he yelled. “We’ve secured all the main objectives, now let’s get over to that clubhouse.” He grabbed a handheld radio, and he and his command people sprinted for their cars.
Holly’s van pulled out of the village. They drove along the perimeter of the golf course.
“Pull over,” Holly commanded. “We go from here on foot.” She got out of the van, put Daisy on a short leash and closed the door quietly. “Now listen,” she said to her men. “This wasn’t part of the plan, so we’re going to have to wing it. Our job is to take out any security people outside the building without alerting anybody inside.” She divided her group into two teams. “Bill, your team goes counter-clockwise, and watch out for the front door; there could be extra men there. Gag anybody you detain. The rest of you will come with me, clockwise. We’ll meet on the opposite side of the building. I think the kitchen door is over there, and when we get the order to move in, we’ll go through the kitchen. Expect armed resistance at all times. When we get inside, there are going to be more people than we have cuffs or ties for. Cuff the staff first, then the male guests. Cuff the women only if we have ties left. Now, go!”
Holly started up the driveway to the clubhouse at a trot, Daisy moving easily beside her, her men following. Keeping to her right, moving silently through the grass, she came to the pro shop entrance. A man was standing at the door, fumbling with a set of keys. She let him lock it, then she pulled her baton and struck him sharply across the back of the neck with it. He emitted a small grunt and collapsed. One of her men used a plastic tie to secure his hands behind him, gagged him, then they went on their way. They made it nearly to the other end of the building before Holly saw someone else, and he saw her at the same time. She raised her silenced pistol and hissed, “Freeze!” His hand went under his jacket, and she fired once. He flew backward, his pistol striking the side of the clubhouse.
Holly ran up to him. His eyes were open, staring, and his breath was rattling from his body. After a moment, he was still. “First time,” she whispered to herself. “No need to tie or gag him,” she said. She ran on, the tempo of the booming music keeping time with her feet.
She came to the rear corner of the clubhouse and peeked around the corner. Two men in white cooks’ clothing stood beside some garbage cans, smoking, twenty yards from the kitchen door. She dropped Daisy’s leash, stepped out from behind the building and held the pistol out before her. “Freeze!” she commanded. Her men stepped out, their weapons ready. The two men looked at them: one threw his hands into the air; the other bolted for the kitchen door.
“Daisy!” She pointed at the running man. “Stop and guard!” Daisy took off as if fired from a cannon. Six feet from the kitchen door she sank her teeth into a running leg, dumping the man onto the ground. Then she stood over him, snarling quietly. The man did not move a muscle.
Holly secured the other cook, then went to the man lying on the ground.
“That dog bit me!” the man complained.
“Shut up, or I’ll let her tear your head off!” Holly whispered. She tied and gagged him. When she looked up, the remainder of the team appeared, dragging three men, all tied and gagged.
“All clear,” one of them said.
Holly picked up the radio. “Team four, objective accomplished. At the kitchen door, awaiting further instructions.”
The music was louder than ever. Holly thanked God for it.
Harry heard Holly’s transmissions. “All teams move to clubhouse. Cover all entrances and exits. Wait for my order before entering.” He turned to Jackson. “How much longer before we’re there?”