Inside the wall, the ground was covered in mulch. Gage had to adjust where he dropped down due to round bushes he’d not been able to see from outside the wall. He crouched between the bushes and viewed his surroundings.
Ahead of him was nearly 100 meters of manicured lawn, dormant now in winter. Beyond the lawn were more ornamental beds and the northern end of the mansion. Under a pool of amber light was the small porch and door where the roving guard typically exited.
That’s where Gage would be going in.
Between now and then, he had to get from here to there. The only decent route Gage could see was via the “front” yard. He needed to move to his left until he entered the darker shadows. There, he could pick his way through several dark areas underneath two leafless trees. That would take him to the corner of the main house. He’d low crawl behind the ornamental bushes until he reached the small porch. Then he’d wait for his moment.
With a check of his watch—ten minutes till the guard was due—Gage gave himself six minutes to make the journey. He had no way of knowing if the guard might be early. He lay flat on the ground and hurried along the base of the wall until he reached the dark shadows at the front of the estate. This was where things might go bad.
Renewing his focus, he eyed the dark shadows. Picking the route with the least light, Gage continued his low crawl, getting almost halfway across the yard when his fear was realized.
The roving guard had just come out the side door.
He was early.
Dammit!
Because he was potentially in the guard’s field of vision, Gage lay perfectly still and watched. The guard took a large breath of the cold nighttime air, lingering for a moment as he stretched his calves on the bottom step. Then, off he went, following the same pattern as before.
When he reached the shadows near the front of the house, at the point closest to Gage—maybe ten meters—the guard stopped. Gage slowly slid his hand under his chest, grasping the P9. A firefight here would create a difficult situation. He’d have to knock the rover down with his first shot, and probably move into the bushes while he waited on the other two. While Gage liked his chances when concealed, he had no way of knowing whether or not there were more than just three guards. For all Gage knew, there might be five more guards inside the house. That didn’t seem likely, but still—he didn’t need a gun battle at this moment.
His fears were allayed when the halted roving guard produced a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He lit up, killing his night vision, and set about on his three-minute stroll, undisciplined as hell. After he’d moved past, Gage marked his time and increased his low crawl speed.
When he’d reached the ornamental flowers and shrubs, he moved to a crouch and slid past the side porch. A check of his watch gave him 70 seconds before the guard was due to reappear. Gage inched his way forward, turning his head to both the front and rear guards. Their view was partially obscured by bushes. He’d have to chance it. He opened his pack, removing Karl Vogel’s law enforcement-grade stun gun. It was freshly charged and ready to be used.
Flattening himself against the building, Gage used the darkest shadow behind a conical evergreen holly as he prepared to launch his assault. A quick push of his Timex Indiglo indicated about 10 seconds before the guard should reappear.
Gage waited. And waited.
No guard.
Gage turned his head to the left. He was comfortable that he wouldn’t be seen in this location. Then, he heard voices.
Edging to the right, staying in the narrow space between the shrubs and the house, Gage crawled to the rear corner—there he was. The roving guard was with his buddy—the pissing guard. They’d ignited fresh cigarettes and were loudly shooting the breeze, alternating one hand for smoking, the other in their jacket pocket.
The night was almost over. They probably were due to change shifts in an hour or two. Like undisciplined soldiers, they’d grown bored with their duties on this night. Gage would have to make them pay for their mistake.
Estimating less than five minutes before their cigarettes were finished, he moved back into position and waited. His estimate was about right. Gage flattened himself into the darkest shadow as the roving guard noisily loped back to the side porch. He shuffled up the steps, humming a few bars of a tune. The guard stooped to the keypad, punching in six-digits.
This was the critical moment. So many things could go wrong.
Would the roving guard hear him or worse, see him coming?
Would he rush inside and slam the door, alerting the other guards?
Even if he didn’t, could the other guards possibly see Gage?
What if there was another guard inside, waiting?
Was there something else that Gage hadn’t even thought of that might go awry? Maybe a highly trained guard dog was just inside, ready to rip Gage’s larynx from his throat.
None of this mattered. The only thing now between Gage and a successful breach was a two-step porch and a locking door that was currently open. And, of course, an undisciplined guard who Gage estimated weighed 220 pounds.
Lurching from his hiding spot, Gage bounded onto the porch and wheeled right, just after the guard had crossed the threshold. The guard chirped a protest before he was greeted with 100,000 volts pushed by a muscle-contracting 50 milliamps of current. As any electrician will explain—it’s the amperage, not the voltage. From experience, Gage continued to hold the stun gun into the overweight
