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“As always,” Marc stated simply, stepping back.
Silently, Ryan opened his gear bag and extracted a gray mechanical mouse. “Meet Jerry.”
“Jerry.” Hutch stared at him in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Nope.” Ryan placed Jerry on the floor. Using his iPhone, he drove the creature silently into the room where the Fishers were holding Casey and Claire. “I’ll use Jerry to create a diversion.” He gave Marc and Hutch a quick explanation of his intentions. “Just let me know when it’s time.”
If the situation hadn’t been so dire, Marc and Hutch would have burst out laughing. As it was, they huddled behind Ryan and discussed assignments. Hutch would take out Glen. Marc would take care of Jack. Ryan would put Jerry into action on Marc’s signal.
Ever so cautiously, Marc and Hutch crept down the unlit hall, and stopped several steps from the narrow doorway to avoid detection. Hutch crouched down. Marc remained standing. This way, they were out of each other’s lines of sight. Ryan stayed where he was, gripping his iPhone and watching Marc intently.
Marc turned and signaled Ryan with his tactical flashlight.
Nodding to himself, Ryan typed Send on the command line, selected the MP3 file in the window that popped up and depressed the OK button on his Jerry Mouse app. Seconds later, he received an acknowledgment in the status window that the MP3 file was received.
Using a flashlight app on his iPhone to illuminate himself, Ryan displayed a thumbs-up to Marc, indicating that Jerry was ready to cause a commotion. Signal received, Hutch and Marc drew their Glocks, turning on the pistols’ laser sights. Hutch tapped Marc’s leg to indicate that he was ready.
Again, Marc used his tactical flashlight to signal Ryan.
That was all Ryan needed to set Jerry in motion.
He typed Move=Big Figure 8 and Play @ Volume=10, and depressed the OK button to confirm. The mechanical creature zoomed into the center of the room and began making large figure eights. Simultaneously the “Scooby-Doo” theme song screeched from Jerry’s tiny, embedded speaker.
Utter confusion ensued.
Glen and Jack gave starts of surprise, and then staggered to their feet. Focused on their impending sexual gratification, they were thrown completely off balance. They searched the area in bewilderment, trying to find the cause of the unexpected cartoon theme song.
At that exact moment, Marc and Hutch burst into the room, pistols raised.
“FBI!” Hutch shouted.
For a split second, bewilderment gave way to terror in the murderers’ eyes. Laser pointers found their marks on each man’s forehead. Marc and Hutch fired in unison. The impact of the .40 caliber bullets sent them reeling backward and away from Casey and Claire.
Their switchblades clattered to the ground.
Glen and Jack were dead.
Hutch and Marc rushed forward, removing their jackets, and covered up the two naked women.
“All clear,” Marc called out.
“Yeah, and for the love of God, turn off that goddamned thing,” Hutch added. He was holding Casey’s face between his palms, letting her feel his warmth, pausing to kiss her and whisper that everything was going to be all right.
Ryan took the hint. Jerry fell silent and ceased his frenetic dance.
Having scooped up the mechanical mouse, Ryan ran inside, straight over to Claire, dropping to his knees beside her. “Hey, Claire-voyant,” he murmured, his voice unsteady. “I’ll have you out of here in a minute.”
Claire nodded, tears trickling down her cheeks.
Marc took out his Buck tactical knife, flipped open the blade and sliced the ropes tying each woman down, until they were free. He then intercepted a gesture from Hutch and acted on it.
He whipped out handcuffs, went straight to Glen’s and Jack’s lifeless bodies and cuffed their hands—standard FBI procedure that he well-remembered and was happy to do for his friend.
“It’s over, sweetheart.” Hutch cradled Casey’s quaking body in his arms. “We’re going to call an ambulance and get you to the hospital right away.”
Casey shook her head. “He didn’t rape me,” she managed to say. “He was about to. But you stopped him. And Claire—they choked and traumatized her. But I was slotted to go first. So we don’t need the hospital, not unless Claire’s injuries are worse than I think.”
“No,” Claire said adamantly from a foot away. Her voice broke and she started to cry again. “I’ll need to talk to someone—a professional. I’m a mess. But no hospital—please.”
