But that changed quickly.
Just after two in the morning, loud, rapid-fire knocks rang out from our wooden door. Tessa and I were torn from a sound sleep, and we both bolted upright, adrenaline bringing us to full alert. The continued rapping on the door was steady and purposeful, and forceful enough to wake the dead.
Tessa gestured for me to lie on the floor beside the bed, while she grabbed an automatic pistol and her phone and joined me there, making sure we weren’t in any line of fire. She turned her phone into a dim flashlight and slid it hard across the floor so it was close to the door, illuminating it enough for us to see in the darkness.
The knocking abruptly ceased. “Tessa Barrett and Jason Ramsey,” bellowed a deep voice with a slight Indian accent. “I know you’re in there. I mean you no harm. But we really need to have a little talk.”
23
“What should we do?” I whispered to Tessa, since neither of us had any doubt that she was in charge in this kind of situation.
“Nothing at the moment,” she whispered back. “We need more information.”
The man outside shouted through the door a second time. “You can’t fool me into thinking the place is empty! I know you’re in there! I just want to talk.”
Tessa considered. “Unlatch the door,” she whispered urgently, having reached a decision. “Come at it quietly and from the side. Then get back here. Quickly. Make sure that you and your nanites stay hyper alert.”
I felt a little awkward prancing through the room naked, but quickly did as she asked. I returned to lie on the floor next to her.
“Okay!” yelled Tessa to our unwanted visitor, her gun still pointed at the entrance. “Let’s talk! Give us a minute to throw on some clothes.”
“Of course,” came the loud reply.
We both wriggled into our undergarments, pants, and shirts while still on the ground, not wasting time on footwear.
“All right, then,” shouted Tessa when we had finished, “come inside with your hands raised over your head. It’s unlocked.”
There was no reply, but the handle turned and the door slowly opened. A man of average height stepped inside with his hands held high, closing the door behind him. Tessa rose from the ground and threw on the room’s lights.
“Who are you?” she asked as she approached him, her gun never wavering.
“My name is Bob Baga,” he replied. He was a handsome Indian man in his thirties, with a dark complexion and black hair. “And I’m unarmed.”
Tessa handed me her gun. “Hold this on him,” she said.
She approached the trespasser and frisked him, quickly verifying what he had said, and then took the gun back from me.
“Okay, you’re unarmed,” she said. “But keep your hands clasped and on top of your head anyway.”
The man named Bob Baga did as he was told.
“Jason, can you get the rucksack from the closet and put it on the floor next to me?”
I quickly did as she asked, having forgotten about the go-bag filled with weaponry that the colonel had asked her to take. After our arrival, she had removed a gun and had pocketed one other item, but had left the rest untouched.
“Okay, Bob,” she said loudly after I had deposited the bag beside her, “what’s this all about?”
Before he could answer there was another knock on the door, but this one was gentle, almost apologetic. “It’s Lisa,” said a familiar voice through the door, a voice with an Australian accent. “Lisa Day.”
Lisa Day was our cabin neighbor to the east, whom we had met while watching kangaroos. She was vacationing with a friend, Lisa Baruch, and both Australian Lisas had been as likable as anyone I’d ever met.
“Is everything okay?” she asked helpfully.
I remembered that she had brought a telescope with her on the trip and planned to rise in the wee hours of the morning to stargaze. She must have overheard some of the shouting going on through the door, followed by lights going on in our cabin, and was brave enough to investigate.
“Thanks, Lisa,” replied Tessa loudly enough to be heard outside. “But we’re good. Sorry for the commotion. We’ll try to keep it down.”
“No worries,” said Lisa Day pleasantly. “Just holler if you need me,” she added. “If you want company for breakfast, feel free to wander over after sunrise.”
“Will do,” said Tessa. “And say hi to Lisa Baruch for us,” she added.
“Well done,” said Bob Baga in low tones, stepping farther into the cabin, while I retrieved Tessa’s phone from the floor and handed it back to her.
“Before we were interrupted,” she said to the man in our room, “I believe you were going to tell me why you’re here.”
“I’m just a messenger,” he replied. “I represent someone who is eager to speak with you both.”
“Who?” asked Tessa.
“A woman named Michelle Kite.”
“Never heard of her.”
“I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you. She just wants an hour of your time to have a private conversation. After that, she’ll leave you in peace.”
“And if we refuse?” said Tessa.
“Why even go there?” said Baga. “Why not cooperate so we can stay friends.”
“Answer the question, Bob!” she demanded.
Baga sighed. “There are twelve trained assassins just beyond the tree line watching this cabin right now. Each wearing combat vests and backpacks packed with a complete enough array of weapons and supplies to fill an armory. If you come with me, we can avoid having to persuade you in more violent ways. Why not be civilized about this?”
He shrugged. “But it’s your choice.”
“You sure you brought enough men?” said Tessa, shaking her head.
“Funny you should ask that. When I first signed on for this gig, I figured one or two would be plenty. But Michelle showed me close-up satellite video of you in action. Near a warehouse in California. I have to admit, you were pretty special. Like Natasha Romanoff come to life.”