Another hour went by, and I saw a car turn into the driveway. It was a big black Lincoln Town Car. It rolled to a stop in front of the house, and the driver got out. Large man, dark wiry hair streaked with gray. Couldn’t see much of his face from where I stood in the tower. I suspected it was Gregor Bluttovich. Mooner was still convening with his inner self. I didn’t want to disturb him. I think he’d made peace with the fact he was going to lose his nuts, and I don’t think it occurred to him that death would follow.
After a couple minutes, there were loud voices on the stairs, accompanied by heavy footsteps. The tower door banged open, jolting Mooner out of his contemplative state, filling me with renewed fear. Eugene and Mo rushed in, and the man who’d arrived in the Lincoln labored up the stairs behind them.
“We would have brought them down,” Eugene said to the man.
“Shut up, you idiot,” the man said. “I’m not an invalid. I’m a Bulgarian bull.”
The Bulgarian bull lunged into the room, and I thought he looked like a bull having a stroke. His face was purple, and he was sweating and breathing heavy. He was close to six feet tall and weighed about two hundred and fifty pounds. His eyes were dilated black and glittered in his feverish face. His jowls shook when he talked. He had small, square, yellow teeth behind fleshy protruding lips. He was dressed in bagged-out dark dress slacks and a white dress shirt, open at the neck, showing a mat of graying chest hair.
“So,” he said, looking down at Mooner with his mean little pig eyes. “What have you got to say for yourself?”
“Dude,” Mooner said.
The Bulgarian bull leaned over and got so close to Mooner their noses were touching. “Do you know who I am?” he yelled at Mooner. “I’m Gregor Bluttovich. I’m the man you cheated.” And before Mooner could say anything, Bluttovich hit him open-handed on the side of the head and knocked Mooner over.
“That isn’t Vinnie,” I said.
Eugene and Mo sucked in air and froze.
Bluttovich turned on me. “Who’s this?”
“She was with him,” Eugene said. “We thought you’d like her.”
“They’re lying,” I said. “They took the wrong man, and they were going to keep me for themselves.”
Bluttovich looked over at Eugene and Mo. “Is this true?”
“She’s trying to make trouble,” Eugene said.
Bluttovich grunted. “I’ll give her trouble.” He turned away and powered himself to the door. “I’m hungry,” he said. “I want something to eat, and then I’ll deal with these two.”
Bluttovich led the way down the stairs, and Eugene and Mo stumbled after him, closing and locking the tower door. Mooner was still stretched out on the floor, a trickle of blood oozing from a split lip.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“He’s a scary dude,” Mooner said.
I went back to the window, desperate to see Rangeman in the driveway. I was counting down to the moment when Bluttovich was done eating and the real horror would begin. I was staring so intently, and wanting to see help so badly, I almost missed the movement in the woods to the right. There was no wind, but something was disturbing the undergrowth. Animal, I thought. And then more movement a few feet over. And next thing, the woods were alive with Hobbits. They were everywhere, creeping forward out of the woods onto the grass, inching up to the fortress. I ran around the room, looking out all the windows, and everywhere I looked I saw Hobbits. There were hundreds of them.
“Hobbits!” I yelled to Mooner. “Get up! There are Hobbits out there!”
Mooner got to his feet, and we looked out at the Hobbits. They were up and running now, brandishing golf clubs, baseball bats, and tennis rackets.
“Get the Orcs!” they were yelling, led by Vinnie and Chicaribbit. “Down with the evil Orcs!”
Vinnie was back in his Hobbit clothes, sprinting across the lawn, cape flying, pumping the air with his fist.
Mooner yelled at them from the tower. “Go Hobbits!”
The Hobbits looked up at Mooner and cheered. “Hobbit Ho!” they yelled, and they went into the house like Hobbit SWAT. They hurled themselves through windows and doors.
A cavalcade of black cars and one red Firebird raced up the driveway, and a chopper whirred overhead. Ranger was out of the first car. Morelli followed. They went in through the front door. Guys in FBI jackets poured out of the cars. Local police cars rolled in and parked on the grass.
I heard footsteps on the stairs leading to the tower room, and Mooner and I pressed ourselves flat against the wall, praying it wasn’t going to be Bluttovich who came through the door. The door opened and Chicaribbit burst into the room. She went straight to Mooner and threw her arms around him and kissed him.
“I was so worried, Bungo Goodchild,” she said.
Mooner grinned. “No problemo,” he said. “And I’ve still got my nuts.”
Ranger was next through the door, followed by twenty or thirty Hobbits, who swirled around Mooner and looked out the windows and commented on the woods and how this would make a wonderful Shire.
Ranger cut the plastic cuffs off my hands. “Are you okay?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yes. How did you find us so fast?”
“Vinnie and the Hobbits got to the parking lot just as the van was leaving with you and Mooner. Vinnie had your purse, so they were able to follow the van in the Mercedes.”
“What was Vinnie doing with my purse?”
“He thought you’d have a gun in it. And you did have a gun, but turns out you had something even better. You had car keys and a cell phone.”
“Vinnie called you.”
“Yes. And I called Morelli, and he did his cop thing. Turned out it was easy to organize. The feds have been following Bluttovich for months.”
“Who called the Hobbits?”
“The Hobbits called the Hobbits. They were uncontrollable. The fear was that they would rush the house before Bluttovich got here, and the police wouldn’t be able to charge him with anything.” Ranger grinned. “The truth is, the Hobbits saved the day. They caught Bluttovich by surprise and no one got hurt.”
Lula and Connie came through the door.
“Heart attack,” Lula said. “I’m having a heart attack. How the heck many stairs is that? Give me room. Give me air.” She spotted me and grabbed me and hugged me. “Connie and me were so scared for you.”
Connie joined in the hug. “It’s over,” she said. “They got all the Orcs.”
“We were in communication with Vinnie and the Hobbits right from the beginning,” Lula said. “So we know all about Orcs.”
“They’re the enemy of Hobbits,” Connie said.
“I want to see Bluttovich,” I said to Ranger.
“Babe,” Ranger said.
“Who’s Bluttovich?” Connie wanted to know.
“He’s the bad guy,” I said. “He’s the one who caused all the death and destruction.”
“Count me in,” Lula said. “I want to see him, too.”
We found Bluttovich in the kitchen. He was cuffed, along with Mo, Eugene, the driver, and the other guy who helped with my abduction. Even in cuffs, Bluttovich was frightening, exuding anger like a toxic gas.
“You!” he said, fixing his crazy eyes on me.
I didn’t say anything to Bluttovich. I didn’t have to. I just wanted to see him in cuffs and know I was in the power seat. I felt good.
Lula was behind me. “What’s with the bump on your forehead?” she asked Bluttovich. “It’s big as a baseball.”
Bluttovich glared at Lula and snarled.
“Cripes,” Lula said to Bluttovich. “What the heck’s the matter with you? Where’s your manners?”
“Some guy in a cape called him an Orc and hit him with a bottle,” Eugene said. “We were sitting at the table, eating sandwiches, and next thing, all these Hobbits invaded the house and this one Hobbit rushed at Gregor with a red beer bottle and hit him in the head. And then the Hobbit kissed the bottle, and said it was his precious. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear the Hobbit looked like Vincent Plum.”
Morelli was on the other side of the room, talking to three guys in FBI jackets. They all had pads out, taking
