African snake known for its deadly venom that left little to no chance of survival.
When he heard that about the Mamba, he knew it was the gun for him. Why else would anyone want a gun unless it’s to shoot someone? If you are shooting someone, you want them to have little to no chance of survival.
Elmore scanned the patio where he sat and laughed at how Rod had called it an observatory. It wasn’t an observatory in the classic sense. Sure he observed from up there, but not the stars and planets. He observed the grounds surrounding his home. The mount wasn’t an alt-azimuth mount for a telescope. It was an M122 tripod for his M60 machine gun loaded with armor-piercing rounds that could defeat Kevlar vests. From the ground, only a serious professional would be able to see the minor differences in the mount.
“If it’s good enough for the U.S. military, then it’s good enough for me,” he whispered to himself in the dark.
He pulled off the infrared glasses and set them down beside him. He yanked the earpiece out and took one more look around his property in the little light as the morning sun began its ascent.
Nothing. No movement anywhere.
“Maybe another day, Rod.”
It was time to get some sleep. Later that day he would deal with Sarah. She needed to start wearing the panties. When he woke up, he would take the first pictures of her wearing the panties whether she liked it or not. If she wouldn’t work with him willingly, he would shoot her up with ketamine again but this time he’d use his tranquilizer gun so there would be no need to enter her cell.
He crawled over to the access door, dropped down to the attic and closed the hatch. Once he got to the main level of the house, he headed for his office where he placed the Mambas in their holder and put away his infrared glasses. When he stepped into the hallway, something caught his eye. He turned fast but missed it. Something at the rear of the house blinked.
It was more dark than light still, but he was sure he’d seen something.
“Shit, shit, shit!”
He didn’t have time for the pistols. He ran back upstairs, climbed the ladder into the attic and jumped back onto his rooftop patio. He saw them clearly now, without the aid of the glasses, approaching from the rear. The closest one was at least fifty yards out. As the roof was quite high and the patio area had been built in the center, if they got any closer, the eavestrough would obstruct his view.
Behind the first man, he counted four more who followed. They were hopping from tree to tree, attempting to stay hidden as they approached.
Elmore looked behind him to make sure no one was coming from the front, but nothing moved there.
He silently lifted the M60 onto the tripod, clicked it into place and aimed the weapon. He breathed in and out slowly, knowing this approach to intruders could be construed as excessive. But he also knew what these men were doing was illegal. The claim would be that he felt threatened by what looked like paratroopers assaulting his house.
His first priority was to protect the basement at all costs.
He aimed at the man closest and fired. Even from his distance, he could see the man fall. He quickly took aim at the others. Man after man fell in the bush behind his house. The last man remained hidden behind a tree. He waited. Finally the man stepped out and started running. Elmore took his time to aim due to how far away the man was. He fired his weapon and continued firing under the man was cut down.
He set the M60 aside and stood up to survey the grounds below him. Nothing moved and no one returned fire. The sun has eased higher, cresting the trees behind him.
I wonder which one of them was Rod?
He unhooked his weapon from the mount and set it back in its long case.
Below him, somewhere in the house, glass broke.
“What the fuck?”
Elmore got to the hole and jumped down into the attic. With extreme caution, he crawled down the stairs from the attic onto the second floor of his home. He had to get to his pistols in his office. He had no weapon on him and no way to defend himself.
It has to be Rod.
How did he miss him? He moved along the hall, sweating at the anticipation of a bullet at any moment. Near the end of the hall, he stopped and took long, deep breaths. He had to stay alert and focused. He had to try to not let the fear cause him to make a mistake.
At the corner to the stairs, he slowly peeked around the edge. The stairwell and hall to the kitchen below appeared empty.
This is it. I will be exposed all the way down those stairs, but I have no other choice.
He turned the corner and started down the carpeted steps, one by one, going slow enough to be quiet, fast enough to get to cover.
At the bottom, he breathed out, not even realizing he’d been holding it. A quick hop across the hallway and he entered his office, where he discovered no one waiting.
He ran over and opened the Mambas’ cases. He pulled both out, clicked off their safeties and held one in each hand. Back at his office door, he felt a lot better. Whoever had entered his house would know the four men out back were dead and that coming here had been met with extreme force. Whoever had entered his house would be frightened and he intended to shoot them in the face.
Elmore began a systematic search of the main floor and found the point of ingress — the back kitchen door — but he didn’t find anyone hiding in any of the available places.
That only left the basement.
He silently walked to the basement door and discovered it unlocked.
A master locksmith, are you, Rod?
He stood to the side and opened the door. He jabbed at the light switch and turned it on. His nerves were playing on him now. It had been at least five minutes since he’d first heard the glass break and he couldn’t stand much more of this tension. Killing those men in his backyard had meant nothing. He’d killed before and actually found pleasure in the act. But the feeling of being hunted in his own house caused him great stress.
He used the back of his forearm to swab at his forehead and then flipped onto his stomach and edged to the door to look into the basement.
From his vantage point, he could see the bottom front of Drake’s and Sarah’s cells, but not their feet. Something was wrong. They would’ve heard the door open. Usually the prisoner stepped forward and awaited Elmore’s arrival in the basement unless they were sleeping.
But things were different this time. They had Rod for a visitor.
He knew no one would be joining them. With the cell phone blocker, there would be no way for the visitor in his basement to get word out for backup. The five-man assault team on his house would have had no legal backing. It was a black operation. Since no one knew the visitor was in his basement and no one would be coming to rescue him, Rod was stuck. Getting past Elmore would be his only option.
He got up, closed the basement door and locked it. He walked over to the hallway cabinet and maneuvered it in front of the door. The lock was only accessed from the hall side in case a prisoner ever got past him like Jackie had. The remote to unlock it was always in his pocket. Unless Rod, or whoever was in his basement had a remote, that door would remain locked until Elmore chose to unlock it.
He holstered his two guns and went to the garage where he grabbed a wheelbarrow. First things first. He would pick up the four dead men in the back and wheel them into his garage for disposal later.
Then he would come back to the basement and deal with the intruder.
Elmore was already working on a plan to flush him out.
He was pretty certain it would work.
Chapter 27
The basement settled back into darkness as Elmore clicked off the light. A flashlight flicked on and Rod
