Vivian gave Sarah messages and Sarah acted on them. The messages helped people survive accidents and prevented crimes, but sometimes things went wrong, as evidenced by where they were.
That was the reason Rod wanted her. To perform for him so he could include her into some organization called the Sophia Project.
“But I don’t believe him,” Sarah said. “I’m sure it has something to do with the war machine. Get enough real psychics on your side and you could win any war.”
“Yeah, sounds like it.”
“But, I warn you, be ready. Rod is coming and when he does, things may get a little dicey around here. I’m going to do my best to escape him too.”
“I’ll be ready.”
After a minute of silence, Drake said, “I don’t know why Elmore is keeping me alive. We both know he wants you.”
“Probably until the heat goes down. Having an extra hostage can’t do him any harm in the long run.”
“Then let’s sleep in rotating shifts. He’s unpredictable.”
“Agreed,” Sarah said. “You sleep first. I’ll stay awake.”
“No. You sleep. You need your rest.”
“Is that the way it’s going to be with you?”
“What way?”
“Traditional. The man takes care of the woman shit, like letting me sleep first.”
Drake thought about it for a second, not wanting his answer to upset her, but he realized only the truth would work with Sarah. “Yes. It’s the only way. A man must respect a woman. She’s the one with the tough life. She has to bear children. She has to deal with cramps and other shit on a monthly basis. Women get abused by men who want only one thing. Women get paid less at a job while holding the same title as a man. In my opinion, women have the raw deal. But when I deal with the woman in my life, I will put her on a pedestal and treat her as she should be treated. This is who I am and that’s how I feel about it.”
He didn’t get a response.
“You asleep?” he asked.
“No, I’m not,” Sarah said. “What you said is good. Don’t ever change. Good night. I’m sleeping.”
Drake smiled to himself. That was easy.
“Oh, and Drake?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to give you something to think about. I read once that the reality of psychopaths, homicidal or otherwise, is that they are devious, cunning, and more ingenious and resourceful than the authorities that guard them. Be careful. Be very careful. We are being hunted even in these cages. And remember, fear stands for false, evidence, appearing, real. There’s nothing to fear. Just be strong and fight. We’ll walk away from this as long as you believe we will. Life doesn’t owe you, but it does provide opportunities. You can either watch things happen, make things happen or wonder what the fuck happened. Choose well and we’ll make it. Being defeated is often a temporary condition. Giving up is what makes it permanent. Never give up. I take an interest in my future because I’m going to spend the rest of my life there. You should too. Now, good night, Drake.”
“Good night, Sarah,” he said, half dazed by her speech.
Chapter 26
Elmore had stayed awake all night, waiting for Rod to show. He had been positive Rod would try to see inside his house, spy on him in some way or even attempt to gain access. Without the proper evidence, it would be difficult, but not impossible, for Rod, an American, to get a Canadian search warrant for Elmore’s home.
The motion detectors were activated and Elmore had an earpiece in his left ear, connected to a police scanner, monitoring their traffic in the area. He’d kept the lights in the house off all night and used infrared from his rooftop patio. He’d gone through a pot of coffee and three chocolate bars, but nothing happened as far as he could tell. No one had approached the house. If they had gotten close, they were good. Real good.
They’d have to be Green Berets wearing body length Kevlar to get past what I’ve got set up.
In his line of business, not the selling of used panties, but having one or two teenage girls locked in his basement at any given time, he couldn’t be too careful.
He patted the underside of his each arm and felt both 9mm Mambas right where they should be, snug in their holsters. Both semi-automatics were loaded with a 15-round magazine. He loved his Mambas, named after an African snake known for its deadly venom that left little to no chance of survival.
When he heard that about the Mamba, he knew it was the gun for him. Why else would anyone want a gun unless it’s to shoot someone? If you are shooting someone, you want them to have little to no chance of survival.
Elmore scanned the patio where he sat and laughed at how Rod had called it an observatory. It wasn’t an observatory in the classic sense. Sure he observed from up there, but not the stars and planets. He observed the grounds surrounding his home. The mount wasn’t an alt-azimuth mount for a telescope. It was an M122 tripod for his M60 machine gun loaded with armor-piercing rounds that could defeat Kevlar vests. From the ground, only a serious professional would be able to see the minor differences in the mount.
“If it’s good enough for the U.S. military, then it’s good enough for me,” he whispered to himself in the dark.
He pulled off the infrared glasses and set them down beside him. He yanked the earpiece out and took one more look around his property in the little light as the morning sun began its ascent.
Nothing. No movement anywhere.
“Maybe another day, Rod.”
It was time to get some sleep. Later that day he would deal with Sarah. She needed to start wearing the panties. When he woke up, he would take the first pictures of her wearing the panties whether she liked it or not. If she wouldn’t work with him willingly, he would shoot her up with ketamine again but this time he’d use his tranquilizer gun so there would be no need to enter her cell.
He crawled over to the access door, dropped down to the attic and closed the hatch. Once he got to the main level of the house, he headed for his office where he placed the Mambas in their holder and put away his infrared glasses. When he stepped into the hallway, something caught his eye. He turned fast but missed it. Something at the rear of the house blinked.
It was more dark than light still, but he was sure he’d seen something.
“Shit, shit, shit!”
He didn’t have time for the pistols. He ran back upstairs, climbed the ladder into the attic and jumped back onto his rooftop patio. He saw them clearly now, without the aid of the glasses, approaching from the rear. The closest one was at least fifty yards out. As the roof was quite high and the patio area had been built in the center, if they got any closer, the eavestrough would obstruct his view.
Behind the first man, he counted four more who followed. They were hopping from tree to tree, attempting to stay hidden as they approached.
Elmore looked behind him to make sure no one was coming from the front, but nothing moved there.
He silently lifted the M60 onto the tripod, clicked it into place and aimed the weapon. He breathed in and out slowly, knowing this approach to intruders could be construed as excessive. But he also knew what these men were doing was illegal. The claim would be that he felt threatened by what looked like paratroopers assaulting his house.
His first priority was to protect the basement at all costs.
He aimed at the man closest and fired. Even from his distance, he could see the man fall. He quickly took aim at the others. Man after man fell in the bush behind his house. The last man remained hidden behind a tree. He waited. Finally the man stepped out and started running. Elmore took his time to aim due to how far away the man was. He fired his weapon and continued firing under the man was cut down.
He set the M60 aside and stood up to survey the grounds below him. Nothing moved and no one returned fire. The sun has eased higher, cresting the trees behind him.