The Kazak Guardians (32 page)

"Won't you come in, Captain Miller? Miss Babbcox is making coffee. Would you like a cup or do your prefer something else?" It was Caitlin's condo, and I should have let her issue the invitation. But
...

"Coffee will be fine. I understand you don't have to, but would you mind telling me what happened?"

"No, I don't. Miss Babbcox and I had just returned
...
" I related the details of the incident. "I'm sorry about your officers but Ricker wasn't interested in checking with you, and he had a gun in my face."

"Ricker showed poor judgment. My superior, who talked to someone higher up on the food chain, was told you must have been in a good mood if everyone wasn't dead."

"They were just thugs, more a danger to themselves than me. Do you know a Mr. Henry McCabe?

"Yes, he's the head of the Church of God."

"Well the boys told me, confidentially, that he was behind the attack. He has a right to disagree with Miss Babbcox and to seek legal action against her. He doesn't have any right to attack her. You might mention to him that one more attack will put me in a very ugly mood."

"Kazak Lynn, I know a lot of people are upset with the ACLU, but I don't condone violence or actions that break the law. Thank you for your time and allowing the interview." He left.

"I thought you were just a fancy bodyguard. Obviously, I was very wrong. I can't believe what has happened tonight. I know I should have stayed downstairs, but I couldn't, knowing you may die trying to protect me." Her eyes were misty. We talked for a while before she was relaxed enough to retire for the night.

The next several days were quiet. She and I got a lot of strange looks and whispered conversations at work.

Caitlin again met with the lawyers opposing her. They kept looking at me standing in the corner. They said nothing, although I'd bet they wanted to insinuate Caitlin was somehow responsible for the attack. Back in her office, I decided the situation had changed.

"Caitlin, I'm afraid the situation has probably changed for the worse. McCabe has a major dilemma. He has failed to stop you and will lose face if he can't. He knows his local church thugs aren't going to work. The only choice he has left is to hire an Assassin." I paused to let that sink in. "You have two choices. One, drop the suit. Two, trust I can protect you."

"I can't stop the suit without destroying the ACLU. I can't leave for the same reason, but I don't want you killed." She put her head in her hands.

"Caitlin, protecting people is my profession. I like what I do. Most of the time, I protect good people like you from evil people like McCabe. I know even thugs like those clowns the other night can kill me, although those odds are small; however, an Assassin and I are sort of evenly matched, except when I'm expecting one. Then, the odds are in my favor. If you stay, I stay."

Caitlin sulked the rest of the day. By evening, she had resigned herself to the situation. I spent the day thinking about McCabe-a preacher. I would think a man of God would be tolerant, unless
...

"Caitlin, do you know a reputable detective agency?"

"We use the Vigil Agency when we need something researched or investigated. Why?"

"Something doesn't feel right about the Reverend McCabe. Call them and set up a meeting." Violence didn't fit the players. If I killed McCabe the ACLU would get blamed and the situation would escalate into more violence. Then it wouldn't be confined to Caitlin. Many people agreed with McCabe on this issue. Others didn't like the ACLU in principle, but they didn't subscribe to killing anyone. McCabe was the instigator of the violence. He had to be stopped. The meeting was set for the next day at the ACLU headquarters.

***

"Lynn, this is Burt Bydin. Burt, this is Kazak Lynn. She's my bodyguard," Caitlin said when Burt had entered the office. He offered to shake hands. I declined with a shake of my head.

"Sorry. I'm on duty." I waved him to a seat. "Burt, what won't you do?"

He gave me a strange look before answering. "The agency won't take any physical action against anyone or do anything that is illegal." He didn't qualify the statement.

"What about investigating a religious or government person?"

"I have no problem with investigating anyone, except maybe the president." He gave a small laugh. "I did an investigation of several Catholic priests a few years ago for a potential molestation case, but I won't lie or make things up."

"I'd like you to investigate Henry McCabe. I want to know everything about him starting back about ten years. He's guilty of something," I said, feeling confident I was right.

"Is this for you or the ACLU?" He looked toward Caitlin, who shrugged.

"This is Kazak business."

"I can reach you through Caitlin, but the information is for you. Agreed." After I nodded agreement, he left.

The next few days were a bit interesting. Caitlin had two appearances in court: one for a civil action against a client of the ACLU and one for her challenge to the proposed petition. When she and the CDRC lawyers met for oral arguments, the courtroom was full of people, most hostile to the ACLU. I stood just off to the side of Caitlin's podium, so I could see the entire courtroom and be in a position to reach her quickly. The judge wasn't happy but acquiesced when I pointed out that I would be more inclined to shoot a person attacking Caitlin if I were further away.

Caitlin was in the middle of her argument when a man stood and began shouting obscenities. He was on the opposite side of Caitlin from me. I began moving closer, while continuing to watch the spectators. My first impression was right. The shouter was a distraction. A man closer to me rose with a can of red paint. I drew a knife.

"SIR!" I shouted. "If you throw that can, Miss Babbcox will have red paint all over her, and you will have blood all over you. The judge will have to call a recess while Miss Babbcox removes the paint. You will go to the morgue."

The room went silent. He paled and sat back down. It took the judge a few minutes to recover. He looked to me, then to the bailiff.

"Have those two taken into custody and charged with aggravated assault. Miss Babbcox, you may proceed." The rest of the day was boring.

***

Life returned to boring, during the day. At night, Caitlin and I shared a bit of our lives. She was a good cook and fed me well. It was a nice change to sit down and eat. We followed the same streets each day on the way to the office and at night on the way back to the condo. It certainly wasn't ideal from a safety perspective. Routines are bad, since they allow your opponent to plan ahead.

She left the office later than usual that night. The streets weren't deserted but there were fewer people than an hour or two earlier. That would be an ideal time for an ambush. I decided McCabe would probably stop using his unhappy parishioners and would resort to professional help. That may or may not be Assassins.

We were in the small shopping area a few blocks from her condo when I saw them. They might as well have had signs on them,
Hi, we're professional thugs.
One was standing looking in a shop window several yards ahead of us. The other one was crossing the street to get behind us. I swept Caitlin off her feet as I drew my gun and fired at the man in front of me as he turned toward me. Almost as soon as the bullet cleared my Glock, I spun around into a sitting snake stance, facing the one behind. He and I fired at the same time. He missed; I didn't. His second shot went high as mine hit him in the chest, driving him stumbling backward. He collapsed after the shot to his chest. I carefully surveyed the street as I uncoiled. Caitlin was on the pavement face down with her arms over her head. She must have rolled over onto her stomach when the shooting began.

"Are you all right, Caitlin?" I asked, still scanning the area.

"Except for some scrapes, bruises, and a near heart attack." She stood, a bit unsteady.

"Tell Captain Miller, Lynn was in a bad mood," I said loudly to no one in particular. Some of those who witnessed the shooting would stay and report what I had said. People loved to stand and watch accidents of any kind. After we had entered her condo and cleaned up, Caitlin seemed a bit more under control.

"I'm scared, Lynn. I'm a lawyer. The most violence I should encounter is a heated verbal exchange with another lawyer. Is this going to end?"

"Not until our God-fearing preacher is silenced. I'd kill him, since he's trying to kill you, but it would only make matters worse. I'm hoping Burt is going to uncover something that I can use against him."

Captain Miller showed up at the condo several hours later.

"Would you mind telling me what happened tonight? It appears to have occurred so fast that I don't have any reliable witnesses. My detectives have identified the two dead men as suspects in several killings, although we have no proof. They were members of a South American gang, who are involved in drugs, prostitution, robberies, and a variety of assaults."

"They need training," I said absent-mindedly. Miller choked back a laugh. "One stationed himself in front of us, while the other circled around behind us. I knocked Caitlin down and shot the one in front as he turned, then turned around and shot the one behind. I hope no one got hurt with his first shot, since he missed."

"No. No one was hurt, which is probably a miracle. I don't imagine you missed."

"No. Can't afford to miss when you're protecting someone's life. Ruins your reputation."

After coffee and some small talk, he left. The situation was definitely escalating.

Life went back to normal. I noticed Caitlin's associates tended to keep their distance after hearing about the recent attack. The CDRC lawyers postponed a scheduled meeting.

Caitlin, and everyone around her, was feeling the tension. I couldn't do anything but wait for the next attack, which I was convinced would occur. Caitlin decided to forgo her weekly night out, I think as much out of consideration for the restaurant owner as herself.

Burt Bydin called that night and asked to come over. He sounded like he had found something interesting. He had.

"Lynn, you were right. Five years ago, he had a sexual relationship with a boy, a young man named Robert Semmel, which lasted for over a year. Semmel feels McCabe intentionally created a dangerous situation for him. McCabe's subsequent sermons against homosexuals nearly got Semmel beaten to death by McCabe's followers. He gave me a notarized deposition detailing his affair with McCabe. He also claimed McCabe had a molestation charge against him several years earlier. It was dropped when McCabe settled out of court."

"Just as I expected. When someone becomes so vehement against something, you have to wonder why. We all have things we dislike or find disgusting, but we've control of those feelings. McCabe doesn't. Let's get that information to the newspapers under my name. He'll have to sue me or admit it's true," I turned to Caitlin. "If he sues me, which he will, I can have you submit the affidavit."

***

The article appeared in the
Star Tribune
two days later and immediately McCabe's lawyers filed a suit, charging me with libel. I felt that McCabe would be desperate to have me killed before I could submit my evidence against him. That attempt would not be with the local talent. I expected Assassins. The question was which type, and hopefully there would be only one.

"Caitlin, I don't think you're going to be the target for the next attack. I apologize in advance. When it comes, I'm going to sweep your feet from under you, push you, or perform some violent action to get you away from me."

"You're expecting one of the Assassins you told me about?"

"Yes. I might wear earplugs, so pull my arm or hit me if I don't respond." I had to be prepared for any type Assassin, but I thought it most likely that it would be a Ghost. The Assassins knew me. The real question was where the attack would occur. The condo hallway seemed unlikely-too narrow and isolated. He would need some distraction. The streets had plenty of distractions. But he needed to be visible to shoot and too many people would mean someone could get in the way at the wrong time. If he didn't kill me with the first shot, he would be at risk. That left the office. If I were right, I had a slight advantage.

***

The next three days were quiet. That evening as Caitlin prepared to leave, I walked out the door first, as I always do.

"Caitlin, can I talk to you for a minute?" a young man said as he approached us. I watched him carefully. If he was an Illusion Assassin, he would have to make some move to kill me soon, because if he got too close a poke in his chest would disrupt the illusion. As I watched, I saw the slight distortion to the side of him. I waited. When he was within six feet of me, I pushed Caitlin back into her office. Caught off balance, she stumbled into her desk.

I jumped to the opposite side of the shimmer and gave the young man a roundhouse kick to the stomach. He doubled up, exposing the upper part of the Assassin as he materialized. We fired. I was slammed against the wall and pain shot through my shoulder. He had been pushed back against the opposite wall as my bullet hit him. He was moving and still functional. I dropped into a front split as splinters of wood burst above my head. He twisted sideways to minimize his profile, just as I shot again. I hit him in the arm. I swung my right leg back to the left, dropping my entire body to the floor. He dove in the opposite direction across the floor. We fired. Pain shot through my right side. I hit him in the hip, spinning him around so that he was on his back facing me, which gave him a better shooting position. We fired. I felt a searing pain from my side up through my shoulder. My shot hit him in the groin. The bullet penetrated into his body. He didn't return fire. I did, two more times.

The paramedics were the first to respond and transported me to the United Hospital. I insisted Caitlin accompany us. I couldn't possibly defend her, but she was safer in the hospital than at home alone.

***

I woke unsure what time or day it was. The room had a dim light so I assumed it was either early morning or evening. Caitlin sat sleeping in a chair next to my bed, and Al the Cheetah stood lounging against the opposite wall.