Trap, Secure. Carol Ericson
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the image of a candelabrum centered on its gleaming surface. A vase of flowers nearby, the blooms fresh and buoyant, perfumed the air. Gage crossed the room and pushed through swinging doors to a kitchen, outfitted with enough accoutrements to please the most discerning chef. A kitchen table, tucked in a nook, overlooked the sprawling backyard.
The smell of grilled meat and garlic lingered in the air, and a half-empty wine bottle rested on the countertop. Someone had eaten a hearty meal tonight before abandoning ship.
He yanked open the Sub-Zero refrigerator—its shelves were stocked with enough food to feed a small army. Zendaris had probably employed a small army at this opulent abode.
Cursing, Gage slammed the door, rattling the contents of the fridge. By the look of things, Zendaris himself could’ve been in residence only hours before the raid.
He’d have to question the locals, but he knew he would hit a dead end there. The local inhabitants generally knew to keep their mouths shut when dealing with powerful neighbors like Zendaris. The man probably had a few of them in his employ—his eyes and ears in his absence.
And Zendaris’s absence from this location would be permanent now that it had been compromised.
Tomlinson, one of the Green Berets still occupying the house, called to him from the stairs. “Booker, you down there?”
Gage hit one of the swinging doors with the heel of his hand. “In the kitchen.”
“You need to see what’s on the second floor.”
Gage’s heart jumped. Had Zendaris left something behind? He sped through the dining room and took the stairs two at a time, his heavy boots pounding against the tiles, creating an echo in the empty house.
Tomlinson stood by a doorway and beckoned to him. Gage stumbled into the room and almost tripped over a low table scattered with picture books. “Son of a...”
Gage circled the room, the bright, cheery colors and patterned wallpaper of cartoon characters making him dizzy. “Zendaris had kids, and they stayed here, lived here.”
A sour lump rose from his gut. At least the kids hadn’t been in the line of fire. If the Green Berets had met resistance entering the house, they would’ve shot first and asked questions later.
No matter what their father had done, kids were innocents. He knew that better than anyone. He and his sister couldn’t be held accountable for the stunts their father the politician had pulled over the years.
Tomlinson gestured to the gaping French doors leading to a dark balcony. “The only doors in the house left open.”
“Maybe Zendaris spirited the kids away through the window.”
“Maybe he had to grab something from that balcony.”
On his way to the French doors, Gage trod on a book. He bent over to pick it up. He ran his index finger along the well-worn, gold-leaf cover. “Fairy tales. Yeah, those kids aren’t going to be living any fairy-tale life with that maniac.”
He tossed the book onto a deep-cushioned chair and spotted a gauzy pink scarf hanging over the back of it. He plucked up the scarf with two fingers. The gold threads woven into the material caught the light, and the scarf shimmered in his hands. Some instinct drove him to raise the scarf to his face. An exotic, musky scent tickled his nostrils and he inhaled deeply.
Definitely not a perfume for a young girl. Maybe Zendaris had a twentysomething-year-old daughter. Gage didn’t even know if Zendaris was old enough to have a daughter in her twenties. He crumpled the scarf in his fist and shoved it into the pocket of his fatigues.
A radio crackled and Tomlinson jumped to attention. Captain Denny’s voice boomed into the room. “Out of the house, Tomlinson. Now. We’re meeting at the front of the house.”
“Yes, sir!” He backed up to the door leading to the hallway. “I’ll leave it to you, Booker.”
“Thanks, Tomlinson. Good job tonight.”
Gage clumped onto the dark balcony. The border around the balcony was low enough to sit on—not the safest setup for kids. But then having an arms-dealing father wasn’t the safest setup for kids, either.
In an attempt to add a measure of safety to the low wall, someone had tacked up a wooden border.
Gage’s nostrils flared. A portion of the border had broken away. He crept toward the edge of the balcony and fingered one of the pieces of wood. This was a recent break.
He leaned over the balcony and his heart slammed against his rib cage. A figure, crumpled on the ground, was inching toward the grass from the flagstones.
“You there—halt!”
The blackness of the night obscured his vision, and he strained to make out whether the person had a weapon. “Stop!”
The figure continued to crawl forward, and Gage patted his pockets for a flashlight. He’d left it out on the patio and had parked his radio in the kitchen. He scanned the yard, but the Green Berets had congregated in the front of the house.
He swung his weapon in front of his body. “Stop or I’ll shoot!”
Still the form eased forward like a snake on its belly.
Gage blew out a breath. At the rate the guy was moving, he’d never make it to the wall before Gage got down there. And once at the wall, he wouldn’t be able to do anything, anyway.
Unless he had a weapon.
Hoisting his own gun, Gage scrambled back through the room and jogged down the staircase. Captain Denny’s voice bellowed from the front of the house. The mysterious, crawling figure would never be able to circle to the front of the house, but the crawling could be an act.
Gage made a quick detour to the kitchen where he swept his radio from the counter. He strode across the hallway, crunching through the broken glass.
He burst through the doors leading to the back patio and ran onto the lawn, veering toward the left where he’d seen the figure from the balcony. He squinted into the gloom. The clouds had moved over the small slice of moon again, throwing this side of the compound into total darkness. The other side of the house boasted all the light and activity.
The humidity sucked the air from his lungs. He pulled in another breath and wiped his sleeve across his sweating brow, his gaze crisscrossing the lawn in front of the balcony with the broken railing.
A moan filtered through the air, and the hair on the back of Gage’s neck stood at attention. His feet followed the sound, closer to the flagstones than he’d expected. The guy must’ve stopped crawling.
Gage slogged through the damp grass and froze. Seems the man had found the strength to stand, after all. A white oval lifted and dark pools peered at him.
He aimed his gun at the person’s head. “Hold it. Do you have any weapons?”
The small-statured man extended his arm toward Gage, and Gage’s finger tightened on the trigger of his carbine. “Don’t make any sudden moves. I’ve got a weapon pointed at you.”
The figure took a few jerky steps, dropping his arm to his side.
Gage pushed the button on the radio. “Captain Denny, I need light at the back of the house. There’s someone out here.”
Denny answered. “Ten-four.”
Motioning toward the man with his weapon, Gage said, “I have reinforcements. Put your hands behind your head and drop to your knees.”
The man wavered and his arms dangled at his sides. Seconds later, several soldiers charged around the corner from the front of the house, coming up behind Gage. They drew up beside him and aimed their powerful spotlights at the figure swaying on the lawn.
Gage’s jaw dropped as the beams of light illuminated a...woman.
The woman blinked. She raised an arm to her face,