Free Cruelest Month by Aaron Stander Page A

precise and skillful way she could focus the work of hundreds of people and millions of dollars to achieve timely, profitable results. But here she was stymied. She hardly knew where to begin.
    In frustration, she got up and began switching on the lights, making the room as bright a contrast as possible to the end of winter gloom. Then she unlocked the hinged covers of the two stainless steel shipping cases she had collected a few hours earlier in Traverse City. She had been apprehensive about the pick-up, but everything went without a hitch. Ken Lee Park, a sometimes boyfriend, Taekwondo instructor, and expert in computers and corporate security, had assured her that everything would come via FedEx Ground without inspection. FedEx had further helped her by putting the trunks on an aluminum hand truck, rolling them to the parking lot, and lifting them into the back of her Subaru.
    She lifted a layer of dark gray foam from the first case, exposing the precisely engineered interior. The contents had been carefully packed, foam cut to surround every component. She removed a large computer display and set it on the desk. After pulling out more of the packing, she found the tower for the system and positioned it beside the display. From the second case, she lifted a small laser printer and a box of wires. Each cable and cord had been marked with colored stickers for easy assembly.
    In a few minutes, the computer was running. Mackenzie plugged in a thumb drive she’d brought with her from California and opened an encrypted text file, working her way through the elaborate security system Ken Lee had installed to protect the contents of the hard drive—the normal array of business application programs plus a collection of sophisticated intercept, surveillance, and hacking software.
    Returning to the second trunk, she lifted away another layer of foam and began unpacking several articles of clothing, all black, each packaged in a sealed plastic bag. There was also a bag of special soaps and shampoos. Without opening them, she stowed the bags in the large walk-in closet of the master suite and put the toiletries in a cupboard in the bathroom. The last block of foam came apart in two halves, revealing meticulously hollowed-out spaces. Ken Lee, well aware of her competence in the martial arts, had stressed the importance of weapons for self-defense. He had selected and trained her to use the two pistols, a Glock 19 and a Rohrbaugh R9. Each was tucked into a holster. The Glock was to be carried at the hip, the Rohrbaugh inside the left ankle. In addition to extra magazines for each weapon, there was also a small, high-quality LED flashlight and a bear claw knife.
    At the desk, Mackenzie stacked the six boxes of Winchester PDX-1 shells she’d purchased earlier at a Walmart, then loaded three magazines for each pistol. That done, she opened the safe hidden behind a panel in the built-in shelves in her bedroom and carefully placed the guns in the interior, along with the extra shells. She started to close the door, then stopped, retrieving the small Rohrbaugh, its holster and magazines. Sliding one of the magazines into the pistol, she put it in a drawer next to the bed, along with a flashlight.
    Ken Lee had overcome Mackenzie’s ambivalence, stressing that her skill at close-in fighting could be worthless against an armed and determined assailant. Although she had misgivings about the guns, she looked at them as necessary equipment to carry out her current mission.
    Slipping back into the chair, she decided she felt much better about her plan. The two-part mission statement at the top of planning draft read:
    Find the boys responsible for Terry’s death,
    Facilitate convictions and life sentences for: Richard Sabotny, Zed Piontowski, Jim Moarse, and Chris Brewler.
     
    She looked at the list. Then with her finger she highlighted Richard Sabotny’s name and chose the bold option from the toolbox. There. Richard Sabotny. That’s the man