anything at all were very low, he couldn’t help but be concerned, as close as he was. Yet he didn’t want to have to abort now, so he turned back to the child. Taking out the eyedropper he’d previously filled with the appropriate amount of Versed, he pulled off the syringe cap he’d used to cover the dropper. Reaching into the crib, he inserted the end of the dropper into the child’s mouth.
“Heading for the pool end of the building,” Grover said, hesitating. “Now continuing on. Thank goodness the pool lights are off. He seems satisfied all in order. He’s now walking down the left side toward the street side of the compound.”
Slowly Colt compressed the eyedropper bulb, pushing the solution of Versed into JJ’s mouth. Almost immediately JJ responded by reflexively sucking on the eyedropper.
“Are you all right, dear?” Mrs. Barbera questioned.
“I’ll live,” Louie said. He pulled his legs from under the covers, sat up on the side of the bed, and put his feet on the floor.
Colt froze except for his left hand, which silently pulled the veterinary gas-powered dart gun from its belt clip.
“Are you getting up?” Mrs. Barbera asked while settling herself back under the covers.
“For a moment,” Louie admitted.
“Check the boy. Make sure he’s covered.”
Grumbling something about the kid getting more attention than he did, Louie raised his bulk to an unsteady standing position, then launched himself toward the crib.
Amazed he’d not been seen, Colt took a step back as Louie lurched toward him. He debated what to do. Should he just wait it out with the unlikely chance there would be no confrontation, or should he be proactive? The question was answered when Louie reached the crib, bent over, and stuck in his hand. Clearly he was confused, as his hand searched in progressively desperate sweeps around the crib’s interior and found nothing.
Colt shot him in his sizable ass with a ketamine dart.
“Shit!” Louie yelled as he stood up, yanking the dart out of his left buttock and trying to look at it in the darkness.
“What in heaven’s sake is the matter?” Mrs. Barbera demanded, as Louie’s scream had jolted her upright in bed.
“I got stuck with something.” Louie yelled with a mildly garbled voice. He extended the dart toward his wife despite there being no chance of her seeing it in the darkness. He then let go of the crib with the intention of walking over to her. He didn’t get far. After a few tottering steps, he fell over onto his side.
Frantically, Mrs. Barbera scrambled off the end of the bed in a swirl of chiffon. As she bent over her husband, Colt let loose with the third ketamine dart. The woman let out a scream that eclipsed her husband’s.
“Houston, we have another problem. Two men are approaching on the run on the right side of the house. Perhaps a silent alarm has been tripped.”
Colt hauled the bag’s strap over his shoulder and zipped the bag closed. Thankfully, JJ had not made a sound.
“Second dog has been discovered,” Grover said urgently in Colt’s ear. “Men with weapons drawn now running toward terrace. Do not try to leave same way you went in. Abort, abort!”
With his night-vision goggles still in place, Colt ran from the bedroom and into the dressing room, and from the dressing room out into the second-floor hallway. At the moment he reached the hallway, lights went on in the kitchen downstairs.
“Only one man went into house,” Grover said. “Second man on terrace standing guard.”
Colt ran down the second-floor hallway, entering a bedroom on the right. He locked the door behind him but knew it was a flimsy lock that would not slow a determined pursuer but for a second. “Exiting second-story bedroom right. Take out perp on terrace. Arrange boat for quick getaway. Have target.”
Dashing to the window, Colt took out the window anchor and extended its arms. He reached the window and threw up the sash. He then raised the storm window. Grabbing a length of rope clipped to his side, he threw the bulk out the window before attaching the end to the anchor, which merely bridged the window opening. Putting the shoulder bag around to his front, he pushed it out the window and then stepped out himself with one leg, keeping tension on the rope attached to the anchor. Pulling out his other leg, he then rappelled down the side of the building.
Once on the ground, Colt unhooked the Uzi from his belt and started for the water side of the house. Passing the tennis enclosure, he could see the anesthetized dog. Reaching the edge of the house, he slowed, positioned the Uzi at his waist, ready to fire, then leaped out into the open. The ploy was not necessary. Grover had taken his suggestion. The perp was spread-eagle on the terrace with a clean hole mid-forehead—undoubtedly more work for their legal defense team if the hoodlums were crazy enough to call in the police.
In the open, Colt did not dally but rather ran down the steps from the pool level, across the small intervening patch of lawn and then the length of the pier. Grover had the boat out in the clear. By the time Colt arrived the engine was running. Pulling the shoulder bag around in front of him, Colt jumped into the boat while Grover put the engine in gear and hit the throttle. Again, he purposefully left off the running lights.
Mildly out of breath, Colt unzipped the shoulder bag. JJ was nestled in against some towels, sleeping, like a baby totally unaware he’d changed hands again. “You’ve been wonderfully cooperative,” Colt yelled to the child over the roar of the outboard.
Looking back at the house, Colt saw a series of flashes. “Incoming fire,” he shouted to Grover, who instituted some evasive steering, but neither he nor Colt thought it necessary as far as they were out on the river. Their plan was to head north for the opposite shore until the black, low-lying boat was no longer visible from shore before turning east, the way they’d come.
It was a quarter to four a.m. when Colt pulled up to Laurie and Jack’s house. The neighborhood was completely quiet, without a pedestrian or a dog in sight. If it were not for the streetlights, it would have been totally black, as the moon had set. The house was dark as well, except for a single light recessed into the front door’s lintel.
Grover got out and opened the rear door. He leaned in, and after checking JJ, who was still sound asleep in the shoulder bag, he hefted the bag out of the vehicle. When Colt came around, he handed JJ to Colt. “You deserve the honors tonight. Compared with you, I was a mere spectator.”
“You had your moments,” Colt argued. “Taking out that first dog and the perp on the terrace was what made it possible.”
“You’re being too generous,” Grover said. “But thank you.”
They did not rush as they reached the stone steps and started up. Once at the front door, they positioned themselves with the bag containing JJ between them.
Grover leaned on the bell and kept it depressed for a full minute. After he let go, he descended back down the stairs and craned his neck, looking up. A single window was now illuminated. Grover climbed back up the stoop and positioned himself where he’d been earlier. Finally the door was pulled open and Jack and Laurie filled the doorway.
“Mr. Collins and Mr. Thomas,” Jack said, surprised and not surprised at the same time. “You are either awfully early or awfully late. What can we do for you?” He was not willing to guess.
“I believe we’ve found something that belongs to you,” Colt said. He lifted the shoulder bag, put it in Jack’s outstretched hands. Since the zipper was already open, he merely gently pulled apart the bag’s sides to reveal its angelic occupant.
Reining in her hopes for fear of disappointment, Laurie let herself emerge from around Jack and peer into the bag. Although she squealed with unbridled delight, she momentarily was not willing to snatch out her child for fear that she was seeing a figment of her imagination. But her reluctance rapidly faded, and her confidence rapidly grew such that she reached into the bag, pulled out the sleeping toddler, and clutched him to her bosom.
