The Last Family (38 page)

Erin moved to the sink.

“So, Reid?” Woody said. “Want to try your luck?” He slapped his arm on the counter.

“I don’t see what that proves,” Reid said. “How about a game of chess?”

“That’s just a game,” Reb said. “This is real.”

“I’m not much for arm wrestling,” Reid said, dismissing the idea. “Wouldn’t want you to snap my arm showing off for the girls.”

“Whatever,” Woody said. He smiled at Reid.

“What would it prove?”

Woody shrugged. “Probably nothing.”

“You ever killed any people, Woody?” Reb asked.

The room went silent.

Woody turned to him and grew thoughtful. Then he looked at his hands and silently counted each finger twice. “Not so’s I noticed.”

“Really?” Reb asked.

“Nope,” Woody said. “If I’m lying, I’m a professional janitor.”

“But you beat the cold shit outta—”

“Reb Masterson!”
Laura snapped.

“—the guys that almost hurt Erin.”

“I imagine maiming is easier if you don’t have too much intellectual interference,” Reid said, smiling. “Anybody can maim, kill. Violence is the defeat of reason. Your brain is the ultimate weapon, Reb. I’m sure Woody will agree with that. Brains over brawn. Progress.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you’d seen that creep who …” she said, stopping when she saw Reb’s face turned toward her.

“I wouldn’t have been in a dive,” Reid said smugly.

“Drop it!” Laura said.

“I see your point,” Woody said. “Chamberlain reasoned with Hitler, Roosevelt with Tōjō,” Woody said.

“Too bad you weren’t there to talk sense to Ed and his pals,” Erin said bitterly.

Reid looked at the ceiling. “Rabin, Arafat. Begin, Sadat. Mandela, de Klerk. Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King. They won important peace treaties without resorting to guns. And I’m not talking about thumping a drunk redneck who would press his amorous intentions on a pretty girl. Erin, I’m thankful Woody’s reflexes are as good as they are. But there are very few instances where professional warriors are needed in day-to-day life.”

“That’s naive, Reid. There are people who don’t respond to reason. That’s where violence comes into play. As defense and deterrence.”

“And vengeance,” Reid added. “That’s a great one. This guy Fletcher is just a bully with a sharp mind and an unpleasant agenda. He needs to be locked up in a mental ward.”

“I have never gone looking for trouble,” Woody said.

“Well, that’s your slant on the world? You can find exceptions to support any argument,” Reid said.

“So can you, I imagine,” Woody said. He smiled again, mockingly. “If Mr. Fletcher comes through the door, we’ll let you reason with him.”

The two men stared at each other like two dogs
standing across a filled bowl. Reid was smiling but his eyes weren’t.

Laura stood and walked over to the sink. “Boys? Let’s try to see if we can avoid the stereotypical cabin-fever flare-ups?”

She put her hands into the dishwater and jerked them out, screaming, “Dammit!”

“What?” Erin said.

“It’s cold!” Laura said. “Ice-cold. Are you sure you ran the hot water?”

“Yes,” Erin said. “I know one from the other. I bet we’re the only family in America that doesn’t use the dishwasher for ecology reasons.”

“The hot-water heater must be out again,” Laura said. “The pilot goes off,” she explained to Sean and Woody. “We just have to light it again. It’s in the closet right down the hall. I’ll do it,” she said. “I was supposed to remember to order a new one.”

“I’ll light it for you,” Woody said, standing. “Matches, lighter?”

Reid looked at Woody and smirked. “That’s okay, Woody. It doesn’t take a karate expert to light a water heater.”

Laura exhaled loudly. The animosity had been building between the two men since Woody had moved into the house, and she was getting tired of it. She couldn’t believe that Woody’s heroics angered Reid, but they did. Didn’t Reid understand what Woody had done for them today?

Reid opened a drawer in the kitchen, took out a box of strike-anywhere matches, and went out into the main hallway. Woody followed. Reid opened the closet door and looked in at the ancient gas-fired apparatus. Woody moved inside first, and Reid followed him, irritated.

“You’ll just get dirty,” Reid said. “I’ll do it. I’ve done it before. You’ll waste time trying to figure out where to put the match. And you can’t beat it into the hole. This isn’t like fighting. Takes finesse.”

“Oh, Reid. I know where to put the match. They just won’t let me.”

“Look, Woody, relax,” Reid said. “This isn’t a contest.” He knelt down and looked at the pilot. “It’s out. Give me an inch or two. Maybe you could step out into the hall?”

Woody moved against the wall and laughed. “I’m sorry, Reid. I didn’t mean anything. Honestly, it’s just my smart-ass side.”

“There isn’t room for both of us in this closet. No way either of us can light it unless one of us gets out.”

“I’m going,” Woody said as he tried to squeeze his bulk around Reid, their faces inches apart. “I’ve earned my points today. Maybe I should let you get a few … so you can justify your presence.”

“You fuckin’ cocky—”

There was the sudden sound of fast-paced footsteps against the wood floor.
Breached!
Instantly the professional baby-sitter knew several things. Someone, two or more someones—people alien to this environment—were moving up the hall from the front rooms, toward the family in the kitchen. He knew there weren’t supposed to be any people inside the house who could come from the front quadrant. As he was assimilating this, he was moving for the doorway and reaching for his holstered gun. But Reid pressed against him and slowed the action.

Woody uttered a last warrior’s curse because he knew that if it wasn’t for some immediate miracle … there would be nothing left to do but die badly in a closet that wouldn’t even allow for the two of them to fall down.
Dead-meat sandwich
.

Laura heard a sudden commotion from the hallway and voices, and before she could react, a man moved into the kitchen with a gun in his hand. Sean was drawing his pistol and moved across the nook to put himself between the intruders and the children. It all happened in a split second. Before she recognized the man, Sean’s gun was already aimed at him, and she was horrified that he might fire.

“No,
Sean!
It’s Paul.”

“I know,” he said, dropping the gun’s hammer carefully.

Suddenly everyone froze. Reb and Erin hadn’t even reacted and were still in conversation, facing each other. They turned at the same instant, and Erin screamed involuntarily.

“You’re all dead, just dead as dead gets,” Paul Masterson said angrily, his one good eye twice normal size. “I just strolled in past your outer ring of cops, killed the agent on your perimeter and two men who were stuffed into the water closet like a pair of lovers. If I had been Martin, I could have killed everybody in this room, gone out the back door, and been free to stroll off. What the hell is wrong with you people?”

It had taken Laura’s brain a second to register that the man who had entered her kitchen was not the one she had expected, and then to realize it was Paul. The incongruity of his appearing at all had caused mental confusion. Not knowing how to react, her mind sent a message to her brain to giggle. She giggled.

Paul moved aside to allow Rainey, Woody, and Reid to enter the kitchen. The children were both staring at their father with their mouths open. Woody looked embarrassed but relieved. Reid looked confused, unsure how to react.

“Where the hell’s Thorne?” Paul asked, looking at Sean.

“He’s out … for a while …” Sean said.

Paul seemed to ignore his family as he spoke. “Agents Merrin and Poole, Rainey and I skirted two patrol cars with no trouble, took out Vance in front, walked right up to the porch, and opened the door. If I were Martin Fletcher, I’d be up to my ass in bodies! Is this how you follow my orders? The front door wasn’t even locked, for Christ’s sake. Do I have to do everything myself?”

Erin began crying hysterically, her face collapsing in on itself, and she ran past Paul, down the hallway, and up the stairs. He watched her out of sight but said nothing. His face might have been stone.

“What the hell’s wrong with
her?”
he said. “It isn’t her fault.”

“We weren’t expecting you,” Sean said defensively.

“Oh … if it had been someone you were expecting, that would be different?”

“Sir,” Woody started. “It was unforgivable.”

“We just thought …” Sean started. “I guess we relaxed because the mother is on her way out today and we assume Martin is otherwise engaged.”

Paul’s lower lip was trembling. “If I had replacements available, I’d can the whole lot of you.”

“No, sir,” Sean said. “We’ll torque up.”

Woody nodded. Paul turned to Reid and stared at him. “You must be Dietrich.”

Reid extended his hand, and after a pause that dragged on far too long, Paul accepted it, pumped it once, and dropped it. He focused his eye on the man and frowned.

“You don’t know what she’s been through today,” Reid said.

“Who, Laura?”

“Erin.”

Dear God
, Laura thought.
If he finds out, we’ll have another terrible scene with the kids. Let him find out later
.

“We’re fine now,” Laura said, her eyes burning a warning into Reid’s. “Erin just decided to act like a teenager today.”

“Mr. Dietrich, has anyone explained the kind of danger you’re exposed to by being here?” he asked him. “I would advise you to find some other place for a few days.”

“Paul!” Laura said. “Who the
hell
do you think you are?”

“Well, I don’t think he’s aware of the stakes.”

“I am,” Reid said. “Fully aware. And I am not going anywhere.”

“What the hell do you mean storming into my house as if you own it? What gives you the right to speak to my friend like that? To come in here uninvited, waving a gun around.”

Paul looked at his ex-wife and dropped his head a fraction of an inch. Then he looked at his son as if he had just realized he was in the room. He holstered the Colt and took his cane from Rainey.

“Sorry, Mr. Dietrich,” he said. “Hello, son.”

He turned to Sean and Woody, but before he could speak, the front door slammed shut. Paul whirled, launched down the hall, and the house was filled with the sounds of Paul Masterson’s wrath and Thorne’s muffled replies. The dog ran into the kitchen dragging his leash and cowered against Reb’s leg. Rainey stood in the doorway and appeared both embarrassed and a bit amused. He nodded at Laura, and she walked over and hugged him.

“Don’t much care for the company you’re keeping,” she said. “But it’s really good to see you.” She hugged him.

“When you moved inside here, the security should have been far more intensive,” Paul said as he and Thorne entered the room. “Is this the way you watch your movie stars? By walking their dogs? Can’t the animal water the plants inside the gate?”

“No—well, yes, Paul. It’s … I mean, it isn’t the same thing. We’ve been at it around the clock. We shouldn’t have lowered our guard. I wanted to stretch my legs. It’s just that we’re so relieved we got Erin back …” He stopped. “I left four good men here.”

Laura rolled her eyes skyward.

“Four?”

“Nelson’s out back,” Thorne said.

“Missed that one,” Paul said. Then he realized what Thorne had said. “Got Erin back … back from where?”

Reb was still staring at his father, unsure what to say, his face blank. “Woody kicked the guy’s ass and broke his arm,” he said finally.

Paul looked at Reb, his face giving away nothing.

Laura was doing a slow burn; Reid stood with his arms crossed. “I don’t want this Erin incident discussed now.” She cut her eyes to indicate Reb’s presence.

Rainey said, “Laura, could you take Reb and Reid upstairs for twenty minutes? Paul needs to talk to Thorne.”

They filed out. As they passed Paul, Reb looked up at his father. Paul stared at him and winked. Or maybe he had just blinked. It was a guess either way, because he hadn’t smiled at all. As Reb was led from the room by his mother, he turned so his eyes could stay locked on his father until he was led out of sight.

After the room was cleared of civilians, Paul sat on a stool and lit a cigarette. “What’s this shit about Erin?”

As Thorne told the story, Paul listened carefully, alternating his gaze, and made no motion save a few shakes of his head in disgust.

After Thorne finished, Paul looked at Sean and Woody, and his tight mouth relaxed into a brief smile. “Thank you, Woody, for saving my daughter. Sean, shit happens and you fucked up, but you recovered nicely. I hope you’ve learned a lesson. You know how dangerous this operation is, and what happened had nothing to do with Martin. If Martin had been around, we’d be in mourning right now instead of celebrating the safe return.” He crushed out the cigarette. “Are you all back to one hundred percent?”

The men nodded.

“Now, what makes you think Martin doesn’t know everything we know?” Paul said.

“Even I’m not sure what we know. What do we know?” Thorne said. “We’re like so many mushrooms here. In the dark.”

“Have you swept the house lately for bugs … today?”

“No. We’ve had it under our control since—”

“He had bugs in place before you came in, right? So he knew you were here.”

“We assume that,” Sean started.

“Assume?” Paul said. “Who told you that you could assume anything?” Paul stared at Thorne and tightened the line of his lips.

Thorne’s face betrayed the insecurity he felt. His status had sunk from ruler of the roost to advanced amateur in a heartbeat. He was embarrassed and trying to fight the urge to be defensive in front of his men.

Paul wrote something on a piece of paper and held it up.

It said: Kill our transmitters.

Paul turned and poured himself a cup of coffee. He didn’t look up again until Sean had run the frequency-sweeping equipment through the rooms. Paul smoked a cigarette and dropped the ashes into the garbage can.

“Nothing,” Thorne said after the search was completed. “Not so much as a blip.”