Free Haywire by Justin R. Macumber Page A

to offer an apology, the doorbell chimed, cutting him off.
    “ Can you get that please?” she asked as she turned off the coffee maker.
    “ Sure.”
    The front door was only a few meters from the kitchen. Next to it was a control panel. He pressed a button, activating a small monitor that showed the courtyard on the other side of the door. On it he saw a man holding a large, fat envelope in his hands. He was dressed like a courier, from his unflattering orange shorts to his yellow cap with a Jovian Deliveries patch sewn onto its front. The rest of the courtyard was lost in early morning shadows.
    “ Yes?” Shawn said after pressing the intercom button.
    The courier jumped, but then leaned forward until his face filled the camera lens. “Um, yes, I have a delivery for Dr. Alicia Campbell. It’s... uh... marked ‘Urgent.’ “
    Shawn stepped back and looked toward the kitchen. “It’s a delivery guy. Says he’s got something for you.”
    “ A delivery?” She came around the breakfast counter with a towel in her hand.
    “ Yeah. Says it’s urgent.”
    Lines appeared between his mother’s eyes as her brow knit together. “Does his ID check out?”
    Shawn silently admonished himself for not already checking that and pressed the intercom button again. “Go ahead and put your ID on the scanner plate.”
    The courier nodded and pulled his badge from his breast pocket. “Sure, doing it now.”
    The security system scanned the man’s ID, took a picture of his face at the door, and then ran a check. A positive identification came back a moment later.
    “ He’s legit, Mom.”
    She nodded toward the door before turning back to the kitchen sink. “Okay. I can’t imagine what could be this urgent, but maybe it has something to do with today’s delivery.”
    Shawn nodded, activated the intercom, and said, “Step back, man. I’m opening the door now.”
    When the front door opened there was a sudden surge of footsteps. Three second later he was faced with four men, each one holding a gun pointed at his head. They were dressed in dark, nondescript clothes, their coats large enough to hide anything under. His mother screamed, but before she could make a move to do anything two of the guns swiveled toward her.
    “ Non, non, non,” one of the men said. “There is no need for screaming.”
    A finely shaped goatee rimmed the speaker’s mouth, which was set in a cheerful smile as he slipped his gun into a holster hidden by his coat. The man seemed capable of a great deal of violence, and he looked like he delighted in it.
    “ Who are you?” his mother asked, her voice shaking. “What is this about?”
    “ Mademoiselle is quite correct,” the man said. “Introductions are in order. My name is Captain Julien Laroux.” He bowed with a flourish. “And these are my men. As for what this is about, that is a longer conversation. For now all you need to know is that we are in need of entrance to your museum, Dr. Campbell.”
    She blanched. “You’re… pirates? I… You… What could you possibly want with my museum? It’s full of relics, nothing more.”
    “ Perhaps you do not know your museum as well as you think you do.” Laroux gave her a slow wink and tapped his right temple.
    Shawn stepped backward to get closer to his mother, but the swiveling of guns toward his head stopped him. “The museum isn’t locked down or anything. If you want in, just buy a ticket like everyone else.”
    Laroux turned his dark eyes on Shawn and smiled, but then his left hand lashed out in a backhanded slap that sent Shawn stumbling to his knees. The sharp crack of flesh on flesh filled the room. His mother screamed and lunged toward him, but a gun was shoved in her face before she could move more than two steps.
    The pain that filled Shawn’s head was immense. He’d never been struck on the face like that before, and he wasn’t prepared for how disorienting it was. The living room swam in front of him, scorching heat burned