"Well, I don't know what to think about that," Bryan said. "I don't like government intrusion any better than the next American, but maybe it's for the greater good and the only way to deal with these terrorists. We can always get our rights back when it's safe again."
"You have a point, Bryan," Sean agreed. "But when will it be safe again? I heard that they didn't announce Mr. McCullum was going to be the grand marshal until the last minute because there's been threats. But he's here now and that takes courage… Ach, look lively, lads, we're moving forward again. Time to pucker up and blow."
Lucy was suddenly besieged with voices. He was real critical about it…for the greater good…silence the critic…there's been threats.
She flipped open her cell phone and tried to call Jojola. She thought the phone was answered but she couldn't hear over the din of the bagpipes. Standing on her toes, she tried to see over the crowd, but Jojola and Tran were nowhere in sight.
"I think they're going to try to kill Senator McCullum," she shouted to Ned.
"What?" Ned shouted back.
"I said," she yelled, "I think they're going to try to kill McCullum!" She pointed at the stage and pantomimed shooting. "There!"
"What?"
Lucy rolled her eyes. "Oh, never mind," she shouted, and started to move quickly through the lines of bagpipers.
"Hey, lass, wait your turn," one of the pipers called out.
Lucy ignored the shouts and confused or miffed looks and pushed on until only the drill team and the drum major stood between her and the viewing platform. The six-member team stood in three pairs, each pair tossing their rifles back and forth in cadence to the drumbeat and on command of the drum major who faced them.
On command, the pipers and drummers stopped at the same moment while the drill team caught their rifles and snapped to attention, facing the viewing stand. The dignitaries and the crowd cheered and whistled as the drum major continued to shout commands followed by the instantaneous movement of the team.
"Shoulder arms!" The team brought the guns to their shoulders.
"Present arms!" The team held their guns forward as the drum major walked stiff-legged down the line for a cursory inspection. As he passed, each rifleman twirled his weapon and brought it up to shoulder arms.
Everyone except the man on the end closest to Lucy and Ned. She saw him suddenly pull down the bolt of the rifle and then slam it forward with such intent that she knew what was going to happen. Not knowing what else to do, she ran forward and shouted, "Myr shegin dy ve, bee eh!"
The assassin stopped and turned to see who'd shouted the motto of the Sons of Man. He only knew a smattering of the old tongue, but this phrase he knew because it had concluded every call from handler Jamys Kellagh. However, this time the words had come from the Irish girl who was rushing toward him with her boyfriend close behind.
"Stop! McCullum is no longer the target," she shouted.
The assassin's eyes narrowed. She didn't use the password to call off the mission. And besides, it would have never come from a woman, not with Jamys Kellagh on the viewing stand.
"Wrong," he said, and swung back toward the dais, raising the butt of the rifle to his shoulder. No one on the stand yet realized that something was wrong. His target remained sitting, an easy shot. He started to squeeze the trigger but an instant too late; someone struck him from behind and threw off his aim. Instead, he was looking down the barrel at the stunned face of the drum major when the gun fired.
Stewart spun away from his attacker, the girl's boyfriend, who swung his fist and landed a glancing blow. He struck back, catching the boy on the jaw with the butt of the rifle, sending him crashing to the ground.
Enraged, he aimed the rifle at the boyfriend and was about to shoot him when someone screamed. He became aware of other screams and shouts and remembered that his mission was to kill the senator, and his window of opportunity was slipping away.
In fact, McCullum was being hustled off the stage by security officers along with the other dignitaries, some of whom had decided it was every man for himself and were scrambling in different directions.
The crowd backed away from Stewart, however, giving a clear field of fire. But then a dark-haired plainclothes officer positioned himself in front of the fleeing dignitaries, trying to get a clear shot at him through the crowd. The assassin readjusted and shot the officer, who went down. He swung the gun back to find his target.
"Hey, piece of shit!" The voice came out of nowhere, as did the flying roundhouse kick that caught him square on the side of the head. Dazed but snarling like a lion separated from its kill, he turned on the small Asian man who'd kicked him but fallen to the ground from the effort.
The assassin pointed the rifle to kill the second attacker. And would have, except he was struck such a blow in the back that it seemed to have momentarily stopped his body from responding like the trained killing machine he'd worked so hard to become. He tried to pull the trigger, but his finger wouldn't respond. Then his arms stopped working altogether and the rifle clattered to the ground. He reached behind and felt for the object that protruded from his back directly over his spine, but he couldn't reach it and collapsed to the ground.
"Goddamn, you slowing down or what!" Tran shouted at Jojola. "He almost shot me!"
"Maybe if you brushed up on your kicks you wouldn't fall down every time," Jojola retorted. "Besides, if I let him shoot you, who would pay for my kid's college education a dollar at a time?"
"BOTH OF YOU GET YOUR HANDS UP IN THE AIR!" a nervous police sergeant shouted. He and a dozen others had their drawn guns pointed at the small Asian man and what appeared to be a long-haired Indian. He looked at the body twitching on the ground, the handle of a big-ass knife sticking out of his back. Another body was lying off to the side-the drum major.
"Oh, bullshit," Tran yelled back at Jojola as he raised his hands. "You try kicking some giant lard-ass as hard as I did and see if you stay on your feet. Besides, I think I pulled something in my groin."
"Getting old," Jojola said, laughing.
Lucy rushed up to the police sergeant, who wasn't quite sure what to do about the debate. "Please put your guns down," she said. "He's a police officer."
"Which one?"
"The one with the long hair. He's the chief of police at the Taos Pueblo in New Mexico."
"And who are you, pray tell?"
"Lucy Karp. I'm Butch Karp's daughter."
"Yeah, and who's the other guy?" the sergeant said, then spoke into the microphone on his shoulder. "Can we get some backup and an ambulance, please? I got a regular carnival going on here."
Lucy realized that Tran, a gangster, might have warrants out for his arrest. "I don't know," she said. "I think he is just a bystander who helped stop that guy."
"That guy" had stopped twitching. The sergeant put his gun down and signaled for the other officers to do the same just as Espey Jaxon ran up, flashed a badge at the cops, and turned to Lucy.
"Are you okay?" he asked. "What in the hell are you doing here?"
"Trying to save Senator McCullum's life," Lucy said without looking him in the eye. "And find out who killed my friend Cian."
Before Jaxon could respond, Jon Ellis ran up. "What are you doing here, Jaxon?"
"My firm was hired to provide security for the archbishop," Jaxon replied. "After the fiasco this fall, the church wasn't taking chances."
"I bet that cost a pretty penny," Ellis said sarcastically. "VIP rent-a-cops don't come cheap."
Lucy watched the emotions play over Jaxon's face. He's angry and hurt, she thought, angry at Ellis and hurt because of me.
The tension was broken by a loud groan and the drum major sat up. He'd fainted the moment he saw the rifle pointed at him, which had saved his life. A police officer picked up his bearskin hat, which had fallen off, and was sticking a finger in a hole made by the bullet. "Three inches farther down and you'd be a dead man," the officer said.