“Drop it!” Laura said.
“I see your point,” Woody said. “Chamberlain reasoned with Hitler, Roosevelt with Tojo,” Woody said.
“Too bad you weren’t there to talk sense to Ed and his pals,” Erin said bitterly.
Reid looked at the ceiling. “Rabin, Arafat. Begin, Sadat. Mandela, de Klerk. Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King. They won important peace treaties without resorting to guns. And I’m not talking about thumping a drunk redneck who would press his amorous intentions on a pretty girl. Erin, I’m thankful Woody’s reflexes are as good as they are. But there are very few instances where professional warriors are needed in day-to-day life.”
“That’s naive, Reid. There are people who don’t respond to reason. That’s where violence comes into play. As defense and deterrence.”
“And vengeance,” Reid added. “That’s a great one. This guy Fletcher is just a bully with a sharp mind and an unpleasant agenda. He needs to be locked up in a mental ward.”
“I have never gone looking for trouble,” Woody said.
“Well, that’s your slant on the world? You can find exceptions to support any argument,” Reid said.
“So can you, I imagine,” Woody said. He smiled again, mockingly. “If Mr. Fletcher comes through the door, we’ll let you reason with him.”
The two men stared at each other like two dogs standing across a filled bowl. Reid was smiling but his eyes weren’t.
Laura stood and walked over to the sink. “Boys? Let’s try to see if we can avoid the stereotypical cabin-fever flare-ups?”
She put her hands into the dishwater and jerked them out, screaming, “Dammit!”
“What?” Erin said.
“It’s cold!” Laura said. “Ice-cold. Are you sure you ran the hot water?”
“Yes,” Erin said. “I know one from the other. I bet we’re the only family in America that doesn’t use the dishwasher for ecology reasons.”
“The hot-water heater must be out again,” Laura said. “The pilot goes off,” she explained to Sean and Woody. “We just have to light it again. It’s in the closet right down the hall. I’ll do it,” she said. “I was supposed to remember to order a new one.”
“I’ll light it for you,” Woody said, standing. “Matches, lighter?”
Reid looked at Woody and smirked. “That’s okay, Woody. It doesn’t take a karate expert to light a water heater.”
Laura exhaled loudly. The animosity had been building between the two men since Woody had moved into the house, and she was getting tired of it. She couldn’t believe that Woody’s heroics angered Reid, but they did. Didn’t Reid understand what Woody had done for them today?
Reid opened a drawer in the kitchen, took out a box of strike-anywhere matches, and went out into the main hallway. Woody followed. Reid opened the closet door and looked in at the ancient gas-fired apparatus. Woody moved inside first, and Reid followed him, irritated.
“You’ll just get dirty,” Reid said. “I’ll do it. I’ve done it before. You’ll waste time trying to figure out where to put the match. And you can’t beat it into the hole. This isn’t like fighting. Takes finesse.”
“Oh, Reid. I know where to put the match. They just won’t let me.”
“Look, Woody, relax,” Reid said. “This isn’t a contest.” He knelt down and looked at the pilot. “It’s out. Give me an inch or two. Maybe you could step out into the hall?”
Woody moved against the wall and laughed. “I’m sorry, Reid. I didn’t mean anything. Honestly, it’s just my smart-ass side.”
“There isn’t room for both of us in this closet. No way either of us can light it unless one of us gets out.”
“I’m going,” Woody said as he tried to squeeze his bulk around Reid, their faces inches apart. “I’ve earned my points today. Maybe I should let you get a few… so you can justify your presence.”
“You fuckin’ cocky-”
There was the sudden sound of fast-paced footsteps against the wood floor. Breached! Instantly the professional baby-sitter knew several things. Someone, two or more someones-people alien to this environment- were moving up the hall from the front rooms, toward the family in the kitchen. He knew there weren’t supposed to be any people inside the house who could come from the front quadrant. As he was assimilating this, he was moving for the doorway and reaching for his holstered gun. But Reid pressed against him and slowed the action.
Woody uttered a last warrior’s curse because he knew that if it wasn’t for some immediate miracle… there would be nothing left to do but die badly in a closet that wouldn’t even allow for the two of them to fall down. Dead-meat sandwich.
Laura heard a sudden commotion from the hallway and voices, and before she could react, a man moved into the kitchen with a gun in his hand. Sean was drawing his pistol and moved across the nook to put himself between the intruders and the children. It all happened in a split second. Before she recognized the man, Sean’s gun was already aimed at him, and she was horrified that he might fire.
“No, Sean! It’s Paul.”
“I know,” he said, dropping the gun’s hammer carefully.
Suddenly everyone froze. Reb and Erin hadn’t even reacted and were still in conversation, facing each other. They turned at the same instant, and Erin screamed involuntarily.
“You’re all dead, just dead as dead gets,” Paul Masterson said angrily, his one good eye twice normal size. “I just strolled in past your outer ring of cops, killed the agent on your perimeter and two men who were stuffed into the water closet like a pair of lovers. If I had been Martin, I could have killed everybody in this room, gone out the back door, and been free to stroll off. What the hell is wrong with you people?”
It had taken Laura’s brain a second to register that the man who had entered her kitchen was not the one she had expected, and then to realize it was Paul. The incongruity of his appearing at all had caused mental confusion. Not knowing how to react, her mind sent a message to her brain to giggle. She giggled.
Paul moved aside to allow Rainey, Woody, and Reid to enter the kitchen. The children were both staring at their father with their mouths open. Woody looked embarrassed but relieved. Reid looked confused, unsure how to react.
“Where the hell’s Thorne?” Paul asked, looking at Sean.
“He’s out… for a while…” Sean said.
Paul seemed to ignore his family as he spoke. “Agents Merrin and Poole, Rainey and I skirted two patrol cars with no trouble, took out Vance in front, walked right up to the porch, and opened the door. If I were Martin Fletcher, I’d be up to my ass in bodies! Is this how you follow my orders? The front door wasn’t even locked, for Christ’s sake. Do I have to do everything myself?”
Erin began crying hysterically, her face collapsing in on itself, and she ran past Paul, down the hallway, and up the stairs. He watched her out of sight but said nothing. His face might have been stone.
“What the hell’s wrong with her?” he said. “It isn’t her fault.”
“We weren’t expecting you,” Sean said defensively.
“Oh… if it had been someone you were expecting, that would be different?”
“Sir,” Woody started. “It was unforgivable.”
“We just thought…” Sean started. “I guess we relaxed because the mother is on her way out today and we assume Martin is otherwise engaged.”
Paul’s lower lip was trembling. “If I had replacements available, I’d can the whole lot of you.”
“No, sir,” Sean said. “We’ll torque up.”
Woody nodded. Paul turned to Reid and stared at him. “You must be Dietrich.”
Reid extended his hand, and after a pause that dragged on far too long, Paul accepted it, pumped it once, and dropped it. He focused his eye on the man and frowned.
“You don’t know what she’s been through today,” Reid said.
“Who, Laura?”
“Erin.”
Dear God, Laura thought. If he finds out, we’ll have another terrible scene with the kids. Let him find out later.
“We’re fine now,” Laura said, her eyes burning a warning into Reid’s. “Erin just decided to act like a teenager
