Home Invasion - J. A. Johnstone [123]
‘Jimmy!” Eloise said. “Don’t listen to him.”
“Take it easy, Jimmy,” Cochrum said. “Nobody’s gonna get hurt—”
He was close enough to lunge forward, grab the barrel of Jimmy’s rifle, and shove it toward the ceiling. Eloise spun toward them, but she couldn’t fire because Jimmy was between her and Cochrum.
The lawyer didn’t have to worry about that. He tore the rifle out of Jimmy’s hands, flipped it around, and pulled the trigger.
The bullets punched into Jimmy’s thick-bodied figure and spun him out of the way. Eloise screamed and fired, but she was too late. Slugs pounded her off her feet. She dropped the rifle as she went down.
One of her bullets had found its mark, though. Cochrum staggered a little as he lowered the rifle he had taken away from Jimmy. Blood stained his white shirt under the expensive suit coat.
“Cochrum!” Garaldo said. “Cut me loose!”
Cochrum dropped the rifle and picked up the scissors again. He stumbled over to the general. Wilma watched him with wide, terrified eyes.
“Five million bucks, right, General?” Cochrum asked as he used the scissors to saw through the last of the bonds holding Garaldo in the chair.
“Of course. That was our arrangement.” Garaldo got to his feet, holding the blonde with his left arm now as he held out his right hand. “Give me the scissors.”
Cochrum handed them over and asked, “What do you need them for?”
“This,” Garaldo said, and plunged the sharp tips into Cochrum’s neck. With a savage twist and jerk, he ripped the lawyer’s throat out. Wilma screamed as blood flew everywhere, spurting from severed arteries.
Gagging, Cochrum clapped his hands to his ravaged throat, but of course he couldn’t do any good. He fell to his knees, then pitched forward onto his face. A crimson puddle began to spread around his head.
Wilma managed to gasp, “Wh-what are you going to do with me?”
Garaldo grinned at her. “Why, you’re coming with me, señorita. Imagine what a scoop you’re going to have! You’re about to witness the balance of power in the world shifting….”
Bud stuck his head out the back of the truck. “I got it!” he yelled to Ford. “The jamming signal’s down! And there’s a radio in here, so I started it broadcasting a mayday loop!”
“Good work, kid,” Ford said. His leg had hurt like blazes at first, but he couldn’t even feel it now. And he was getting cold, which wasn’t a good sign. He figured he was bleeding out.
But somewhere, somebody would pick up that emergency signal, and the cavalry would come galloping in, just like in the old movies. Ford glanced up. Smoke from the burning warehouse clogged the sky above Home now, and he couldn’t see the approaching helicopter. He could hear it, though, and he figured everybody else in town could, too. The shooting had stopped. A feeling of tense expectancy hung in the air along with the smoke.
Ford grasped Earl’s arm. “You make sure the truth gets out, you hear?” he said. “Don’t let the … sons of bitches get away with this.”
Earl nodded. “Yeah, sure, but you can tell the story, too. You and Parker both. People are gonna be a lot more likely to believe a couple of upright government agents than a lowlife scientist like me.”
“Forget it,” Ford said. “This is … your job now … kid.”
Yeah, it was cold, cold and dark, and Ford felt consciousness slipping away.
The last thing he heard before the icy blackness claimed him was an explosion.
With the terrified blonde’s arm tightly gripped in one hand and a rifle in the other, General Jose Luis Garaldo strode down the street toward the police station. Some of his men noticed him and came running up to him. They didn’t salute, as they should have, but they were low-level thugs and there was only so much that could be done with such inferior raw material.
“Report!” Garaldo snapped at them.
“We are under attack, General,” one of the men said.
“I can see that, you fool! Where is all that smoke coming from?”
The men shook their heads. One of them explained, “When we went to see, someone opened fire on us. And now a helicopter comes!”
Garaldo jerked