been snookered by bad luck and hillbilly greed.
'Don't move,' a voice said from behind him.
John stiffened, then slowly began to turn his head.
'Don't turn around,' the voice said, sounding bored. 'Turning around is moving.
Don't move until I tell you to move. Don't do anything unless I tell you to. We don't want to make any mistakes here.'
Somehow John didn't think the voice went with good 'ol boys incorporated down in the gully, so he obediently froze. Behind him he heard furtive movement.
More than one person.
'We have taken the remote shooter prisoner,' the voice said.
'Okay, slowly now, put the rifle down at arm's length in front of you, then push yourself away from it.'
Moving slowly, John complied, gently laying the rifle down; then putting his palms against the ground, he shoved himself backward.
'Again,' the voice demanded.
John complied, then waited.
'Okay, stand up slowly, hands up, then turn around.'
He rose and turned to find himself confronting two men dressed in black, their faces darkened; they wore night-vision goggles with the works turned up on their foreheads until it was dark enough for them to be useful, which should be any moment now. Both held FN-90 submachine guns on him and watched him warily. Commandos of some type, obviously, and just as obviously not connected with Bridges and Hardy, hick gunrunners. Maybe they were some kind of special police unit; the FN-90 was new, with a hot armor-piercing round.
'Hello,' John said. 'Who are you?'
'We're the guys who ask the questions, kid. You're the guy who answers them and does what he's told. Now that we know who everybody is, put your hands on your head, fingers locked.'
The man paused and for the first time John noticed the earpiece and microphone, though he'd surmised they must have them. You didn't announce to the guy standing next to you that you'd taken a prisoner.
'Yes, sir,' the man said to the air. 'C'mon,' he said to John, 'we're moving in.'
John glanced over his shoulder and saw nothing had changed down in the gully.
Dieter was still in handcuffs, the gunrunners were still slapping each other on the back.
'Just keep your hands on top of your head and walk,' the talker said. 'On our way,' he said into the microphone.
'Put your hands up, gentlemen,' a calm male voice said from out of the growing darkness.
Luis instinctively brought his rifle up and stared toward the place from which the warning had come.
'No, no, no, you don't want to do that,' the voice said. 'Look down.'
Luis cautiously looked at his chest and saw a red dot centered over his heart.
Luke and Waylon immediately raised their hands and Luis dropped the gun as if it was suddenly red-hot.
'Thank you very much,' the voice said.
Footsteps sounded, coming in from every direction, and the gunrunners and von Rossbach looked around to spot the spokesman.
'Don't look so worried, Dieter,' the voice said. 'We know you're in restraints.'
'Sully!' von Rossbach said in tones of disbelief.
A compact individual with graying dark hair walked down into the gully. 'Yep,'
he agreed, wearing a tiny smile.
'Last time I saw you, you were with—'
Sully interrupted him. 'I was undercover.'
They looked at each other for a moment and Dieter shook his head slightly, trying not to grin. 'Then I guess it's a good thing I let you go.'
'Yeah,' Sully said sarcastically. 'Straight down. Thanks.' Looking around as his team disarmed the prisoners. 'You can put your hands down now, gentlemen.'
'Who the hell are you?' Waylon demanded. He glanced from von Rossbach to the black-clad man. 'This guy is my prisoner. You have no right to take him from me. Those are
'It certainly is, Mr. Bridges,' Sully agreed. 'You might say we're just saving you a few steps so that you can start celebrating that much sooner.'
'Oh, yeah,' Luke said, his eyes moving nervously over the silent men holding guns on him. 'I don't see no money around here. How do we know we can trust you?'
Sully looked at Dieter, a cynical smile curving one corner of his mouth. 'You'd think he had a choice, wouldn't you?'
Then he turned back toward the gunrunners; he slipped his hand under his vest, reached into his breast pocket, and extracted a check, which he held out to them.
Waylon and Luke glanced uncertainly at each other. Sully tilted his head and shook the check at them teasingly.
'You don't want it?' he asked. 'Hey, I'll be glad to put it back in the kitty.
There's never enough money around for fighting crime, y'know.'
Waylon reached out and grabbed the check. Unfolded it as Luke glanced from Sully to the check and back again. Amused, Sully reached out as though he was going to snatch it back. Bridges clutched it to his chest and as one the two gunrunners took a step back, wearing identically offended expressions.
Sully laughed and then turned serious. 'Y'know, boys, there are some who'd say I didn't need to give you anything at all since you're out here committing a crime.'
'What crime?' Waylon demanded indignantly. 'We're apprehending a felon.
We're licensed.'
Sully went to the open trunk of Waylon's car and picked up an Israeli-made antitank launcher. 'Why… what's this?' he asked in mock surprise. 'Is this even on the market yet?,' He looked into the trunk. 'And all of these other weapons…
I may be wrong, but I don't believe it's legal for a private citizen to own a number of these.' He looked at the gunrunner. 'Could I be mistaken?'
Luke nudged his partner and widened his eyes at him. Waylon frowned and nudged him back, hard enough to almost knock him off his feet. 'They're props,'
he said. 'We needed something to lure him out here where he couldn't hurt anybody.'
Von Rossbach and all the men in black looked at him for a moment, then Sully turned to the big Austrian and they both grinned.
'That's not bad,' Sully said, turning back to Bridges. 'But you didn't let me finish. See, this money isn't just a reward. It's a bribe to keep your mouth
You talk to anybody about what's happened here tonight, and you and your buddies are going to be spending a very long time in a very high-security prison.' He looked each of the three men in the eyes. 'Am I understood?'
The gunrunners nodded and shuffled, muttering unhappy agreement.
'Good!' Sully said happily. 'Then you can go!'
The three men looked at him uncertainly for a moment, not moving.
'GO!' Sully bellowed, and slammed the trunk.
Suddenly he spun around and fell to the ground.
