Book of Souls

Frazier shook his head and turned his gun toward Kenyon, who was still on the floor, kneeling in pain and shock, or maybe in prayer. He fired once into his knee.

Blood sprayed into the air, and the man shrieked in agony. Will tried to rise, but the watcher closest to him shoved him back down with a hand to his chest. Will swung his arms wildly, but the man subdued him with a sharp, cruel punch to his thigh, right over the bullet wound. He howled in pain.

“Alf!” Spence screamed.

“Put a tourniquet on it,” Frazier told the other man. “Don’t let him bleed out.”

The young man looked around, then hurried over to Spence to pull his tie from around his neck. He rushed back to Kenyon and began to cinch it tight, just above the knee.

“Now, listen to me, Henry,” Frazier said. “If you don’t give me what I need, I’m going to take that tourniquet off, and he’ll be gone in a minute. Your call.”

Spence was purple with rage and gasping for air. “You bastard!” he shouted.

Then he full-throttled his scooter, aiming it straight for Frazier.

It wasn’t much of a ramming wagon, a red three-wheeled scooter, barreling down at six miles per hour. Frazier probably could have just lifted up his legs to avoid contact, but he was tired, and he wasn’t wired to underrespond. Instead, he put two rounds into Spence’s face, one in the mouth, one through the left eye.

The forward momentum carried the scooter into Frazier’s shin, and Spence’s body dropped heavily off onto the carpet. Frazier sprang up hurt and swearing, and in anger put another two rounds into Spence’s lifeless side.

Kenyon began to wail, and Will bit his lip in anger. He looked around for something he could use as a weapon.

Frazier was standing over Will, pointing his gun at his head. “Alf, tell me where he’s got the material, or I’ll shoot Piper too.”

“I’m not dying today,” Will seethed.

“I can’t argue with that,” Frazier growled. “But I’m going to give you the next best thing.” He changed his aim to Will’s groin.

“Don’t tell him anything,” Will shouted to Kenyon.

Frazier countered, “Don’t be stupid.”

Will saw something. Frazier was unnerved by his sudden smile.

“I’m not dying today,” Will repeated.

“You already said that.”

“You are.”

As Frazier opened his mouth in a sneer, his head exploded in an eruption of red-and-gray foam.

By the time his body hit the floor, Nancy had already gotten off a second shot, narrowly missing the watcher closest to Kenyon. She was firing through the shattered sliders, flanked by John Mueller and Sue Sanchez, all of them fighting to get a handle on the chaos in the room.

Will rolled off the sofa and locked his arms around the lower legs of the closest watcher. As the man struggled to free himself, he released a burst of automatic fire, which streaked across Mueller’s abdomen like the tail of a comet. Staggering backward, Mueller managed to fire a half dozen rounds before collapsing into the pool. The watcher fell back onto Will, gasping, with a sucking lung wound.

The other watcher spun around to help his partner and when he saw he was down, he pointed his machine pistol at Will, ready to squeeze the trigger.

Sue and Nancy fired simultaneously.

The watcher crashed through the coffee table, a dead-weight.

Nancy ran to Will while Sanchez made sure the scene was secure, kicking away weapons, prodding each man with her shoe.

“Will! Are you okay?” Nancy cried.

“Jesus, Nancy. You came!”

Sanchez was calling her. She needed help getting Mueller out of the bloodstained water. The two women struggled to pull him onto the pool deck, but it was too late.

Sanchez pulled out her cell phone and called 911. She screamed she was FBI. She yelled for them to send every ambulance they had.

Will dragged himself over to the communications headset lying next to the closest watcher, lured by the tinny chatter just audible. He put the headset on. There was a voice, hollering away, asking for their status.

“Who is this?” Will asked into the mic.

“Who’s on this frequency?” the voice asked.

“Frazier’s dead. The other ones don’t look so hot.”

“Who is this!”

“How’s the weather at Area 51?” Will asked.

There was silence.

“Okay, now that I’ve got your attention. This is Will Piper. You tell the Secretary of the Navy, you tell the Secretary of Defense, you tell the goddamned President that this is over. And you tell them right now!”

He ripped off the headset and stamped on it with his good leg.

Nancy rushed back to him. They held each other for a moment, but this wasn’t the time or the place for a long embrace.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he said.

“I called Sue. I told her you were in trouble, that we couldn’t bring in outsiders.”

Sanchez had the postadrenaline shakes. She was trying to comfort Alf Kenyon and keep him from going into shock.

Will knelt and squeezed Kenyon’s hand. “You’re not going to die, Alf. Not for a good long time.”

Kenyon grimaced in pain and nodded.

Will turned to Sanchez. “Thank you.” That was all he needed to say.