Free Knight's Late Train by Gordon A. Kessler Page A

bitten. Animals don’t seem to like you, Assistant District Attorney Edward Rankle. But don’t worry. I hear that long battery of shots they give for rabies aren’t quite as bad as they used to be.”
    Rankle’s eyes got big, again. “Lt. Legend, get animal control here right away. And find that damn rabid ferret!”
    Smokey hoped the dead rat was still next to the dumpsters. She was pretty sure she could convince animal control it was what had “attacked” Rankle — as long as Nostradamus stayed out of sight.

Chapter 9
    B & B Besieged
    6 :00 PM MST, Doc’s B & B, near Crested Butte, Colorado
     
    “Rillie, stay with Specks.” I handed her Big Deal’s Glock 9mm.
    Even though the clouds, trees and mountains hid the late-day sun from the clearing, the snow made the day bright enough to see clearly without extra light. It would be a different story on the narrow, shielded path surrounded by tall pines I’d soon be following. But the dimming light could be my ally.
    From the equipment bag, I quickly pulled an M-4A1 close-assault carbine and a loaded magazine that I snapped into place under the rifle. Next, I extracted a back pack and ruck sack pre-packed with an assortment weapons. I’d requested the “shopping list” while speaking with Judge Hammer’s assistant, Mama Lo, the night before.
    “But, E Z, you might need me. Specks is okay by himself, for now. He’s snoring peacefully back there.”
    “Do you have any military experience?” I asked her. “Law enforcement? Can you shoot a gun as good as you can swing a pipe wrench?”
    “No, but I can try,” she pleaded.
    “No,” I told her. “That’s automatic gunfire. It’s serious stuff. It can cut you in half before you even feel the pain. I have no time to argue. You’re staying here.”
    I took off, sprinting from the snow-covered clearing and onto a path that was mostly protected by pine trees. After a minute of sprinting down the hiking path, the gunfire stopped. Within 50 yards of Doc’s place, I could see two National Guard Blackhawk helicopters, with their pilots waiting inside, settled in the big, open parking area in front of the lodge. To one side of the front entry, three heavily armed men in white camouflage fatigues and white parka’s stood vigilantly, while another four men walked the perimeter. On their heads, they wore only stocking caps that would be much more comfortable and warmer than helmets.
    At least some of the reason for the gunfire lay in the front parking area where the choppers rested. Scattered in front of Doc’s lovely, warm and welcoming log lodge were all three of his dogs; a black lab, a yellow lab and a collie — all had been beautiful and well-behaved animals. The Boys , as Doc referred to them, had been mowed down while defending their human family and home.
    The sight made my heart sink and slam to the bottom of my soul.
    This image of such beautiful animals lying murdered, along with a dozen other atrocities, would surely remain in the back of my mind for the rest of my days, and it brought tears to my eyes. The years of civilian life — even though much of it had passed behind prison bars — had softened my very thick, calloused feelings. My palms became sweaty. My heart pounded against my ribs and my hands trembled. The fear I’d abated had scaled the high wall of my resolve and was now tearing at my mind.
    My children could be dead , as well.
    With eyes closed, I took a deep breath and turned my focus away from what was and what could be and the pain stabbing my temples. My thoughts must be directed totally at this being a rescue mission and not a balls-out massacre of some despicable assholes.
    R egaining my composure, I found a familiar deer trail that led to the back of Doc’s large log cabin. The backside of the house faced south, and its entire south wall was covered in large windows. If I stayed concealed, I had a good chance of surprising and overwhelming a squad-size force.
    The impressive