CHAPTER 45
Baltimore, MD
The first floor was silent. Patrick followed Henry down the staircase, keeping one hand out to grab Danny, who was walking so close to Henry he could have been his shadow. Adrenaline racing through him, Patrick mentally pulled up the floor plan from the first floor. He knew there was a front door and a back, but there were a ton of doors along the veranda. He hoped Henry had a plan.
The front door flew open. Patrick shoved Danny up against the wall, his gun trained on the entrance. Henry took a defensive position in front of both of them.
“Mr. Chandler,” a man called as he stumbled into the hall. He was bleeding badly from a wound in his right shoulder. Scratches and cuts were scattered across his face and arms
Henry quickly descended the rest of the stairs and crossed the foyer to reach him. “Kevin, what happened?
“They took out my vehicle.”
Patrick took a deep breath, releasing his grip in Danny. The injured man must be Henry’s head of security. “It’s okay, Danny. Come on.”
Danny seemed frozen to the spot, unable to move. Putting his arm around him, Patrick said. “It’s time to go. We’re going somewhere safe, okay?
Danny looked up at him, his eyes impossibly large and way too young. He nodded.
“Your men?” Henry was asking Kevin as Patrick and Danny joined him.
Kevin shook his head. “I don’t know. My radio’s toast. There’s a unit at Sharecroppers Lane securing the personnel and then the unit that went to investigate the helo.”
Henry spoke with compassion. “Kevin, the unit at the helo…”
Kevin gave a curt nod, cutting off Henry's words. Anger slashed across his face, but his tone remained even. “I know what happened to the group at the helipad. I told the unit at Sharecroppers to stay with the personnel. That’s all there was on the estate. I called the off-duty units and the police, but it’ll take them some time to get here.”
Patrick placed an arm around Danny’s still trembling shoulders, carefully, aiming Danny's gun at the floor. “Do you know how many men are in the helicopter?”
“Five, including the pilot,” Kevin grimaced and his face paled. He breathed deeply, waiting for a wave of pain to pass.
After a few seconds, he continued. “And they’re not in the helicopter any more. I saw four rappel out of it. The pilot dropped them and flew off.”
Henry nodded and gestured with his gun. “Okay, let’s move. We’re heading to the bomb shelter.”
“Dom's bomb shelter?” Patrick asked, trying to imagine how they were going to make it all the way across the estate.
“No. When I renovated this place, I told them I wanted all security measures available. That includes a bomb shelter, which also acts as a panic room. We access it through the kitchen.”
Henry led them through the front hall and into the dining room. Patrick once again took flank, casting his eyes around the room, looking for any movement. He watched Kevin in front of him, holding a shotgun. He wasn’t sure how the man was still standing, never mind if he’d be able to fight in his condition.
Patrick stopped as he entered the dining room, sensing rather hearing something in the other room. He glanced behind him just in time to see two men silently enter through the front door, each carrying an AK-47. Just as silently, Patrick flattened himself against the dining room wall.
He watched Henry, Kevin, and Danny disappear through the swinging doors that separated the dining room from the butler’s pantry. They hadn’t heard the men enter and luckily, their exit hadn't drawn the gunmen’s attention.
Saying a prayer, he stood silently, hidden from the front foyer by the wall. He waited, alternately hoping they wouldn’t come his way and hoping they would so he could protect the others.
He heard a footstep only a few feet from him and knew the latter was coming true. He held his breath and slid lower down the wall. Without a sound, he switched the machine gun from semi-automatic to fully automatic.
A man dressed all in black stepped into the dining room, casting his eyes around looking for movement, his gun following the path of his eyes.
Patrick hesitated, not wanting to do what needed to be done. His eyes caught the man’s. He pulled the trigger before the man could get off a shot. A string of bullets raked the man from knee to shoulder.
Bullets erupted through the wall behind him. Patrick threw himself at the floor and crawled along the marble tiles until he was right next to the entryway.
A curse came from the other room. He peered through the doorway. The second gunman had jammed his weapon and was struggling to release the magazine. He finally managed it and reached for a new mag from his vest.
Patrick pulled the trigger just as the man slammed a new magazine into the weapon. The man flew back with the impact of the bullets and blood sprayed in an arc across the foyer wall from the wounds in the man’s chest and neck.
Patrick knew an arterial spray when he saw one. The man wouldn’t survive.
He stood up and looked at the two men he’d killed. His shoulders drooped at the senseless loss of life. What was going on?
He shook his head, as if he could wipe away his culpability in their deaths. His soldier days were supposed to be behind him. He was a priest now, but he’d slipped so easily back into that old skin.
Gunfire barked from the kitchen. Taking off at a sprint, he knew he was going to have to live in that skin a little longer.