Ridder's voice carried through the radio receiver. "How the hell did they know we were down here?" For ten seconds there was silence. "You bitch. You had this damned radio on all the time. I ought to shoot you right now." The sound of a hand smacking flesh blasted across the airwave. "Who's running this operation?"
"Tom, I don't know his last name," Carmen replied with a quivering voice.
In the background I heard Paige, "Stop it, you coward. Don't hit her again." There was another loud smack and then a groan.
"Tom, come in, Tom. This is Marc Ridder. I have two of your women, and I'll kill them if you try to stop me from going out on the pier."
I breathed deeply through the pregnant silence. Now what? If we tried to hit Ridder and the blonde and didn't get clean kills, Paige and Carmen would be condemned to instant death. Even if our shots were perfect, reflex actions of the dying bodies could tighten trigger fingers to kill both hostages.
Trying to sound emotionless, I said, "This is Tom."
Ridder gloated. "We're going to stand and leave now, Tom. We'll dump the women off across the lake unharmed."
Four figures stood. Carmen and Paige faced us. Their two captors rose behind them. The four figures carefully sidestepped over to the walkway leading to the floating pier before gingerly backing toward the end. We were only a hundred yards from them and saw pistols held steady, jammed into the back of the captives’ necks. One shot by Ridder or the blonde would likely sever the spinal cords and kill the women instantly.
We were beaten and knew it. We also knew without a doubt Ridder would murder both hostages as soon as he figured he was far enough off shore to be safe. He had no way of knowing Shane and I were both Delta Force snipers. Long range snipers. While watching the quartet approach the long go-fast boat, I said, "Our only hope is for long distance shots when Ridder thinks he's out of rifle range. I'll take him and you hit the woman. It's only a five-hundred yard shot, but the movement of the boat is the problem."
Shane's voice was rock steady. "We've done harder. You take Ridder, and fire when you're ready. I'll be right behind you; it's our only hope." Shooting behind us had diminished slightly but still raged on.
One outboard engine cranked, started and sputtered as it struggled to come up to speed. The second engine came to life, roared, then settled into a steady hum. I watched Ridder through the scope wanting to pull the trigger. The blonde kept both of my women seated and stood behind them with the pistol still pressed against Paige's neck.
I gasped audibly as a spectral figure flashed upward on the other side of the slim boat! The blonde behind Paige turned her gun toward the shiny apparition. A wet, black clad figure rose above the fiberglass and a gun spat three times. Pellets of shiny water flew through the air then fell downward as the figure reached the peak of its ascent. The blonde pulled the trigger as she fell to the deck dying or dead. By then I knew I'd watched Ed at work. His gun swung to the cockpit and shot multiple times as Ridder heard the commotion and tried to turn with a gun in his hand.
The black clad figure disappeared back below the boat into the water. Ridder sank to his knees but turned his gun toward our women. As I pulled the trigger the second time, I caught movement to the left of my scope and heard more gunshots in the distance.
My scope lowered, and I saw Paige. She'd crouched on both knees with her arms outstretched toward Mark Ridder. With the blonde's pistol in her hands, she continued firing from several yards away until Ridder fell forward onto his face. Ed rose again above the side of the boat, paused to see the tide of battle had changed and disappeared once more.
I yelled, "Take over," to Shane and ran to the pier. Steady gunfire was still rampant behind me as the battle continued.
At the boat I leapt onto the deck and grabbed Paige in a bear hug and squeezed her tightly and held her for several seconds. She held me close and sobbed several times. I focused on Carmen; she looked relieved and smiled.
"Paige," I finally said, "are you okay?"
She looked up at me soberly, "I'm fine, Dad. But I was scared. He was so mad he was crazy. He would have killed both of us."
I let Paige go and escorted them back to near the cabin where they'd been captured. Their weapons still lay on the ground where they'd been cast aside when Ridder's thugs captured them.
Ira answered my call and told Carmen where to meet him. Sadness flowed through the transmission, "James Butler died of his wounds. He was hit too many times in the critical areas of his chest and neck; he lost too much blood and suffered severe shock. Marcie was hit in the left arm below the shoulder, but she's doing well considering I'm not a surgeon."
"Hang in there, Ira," I told him. "Carmen's on her way to assist you."
I left Paige with Martin Radcliff and told her to keep her head down. From twenty feet away I saw her
