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"In this outfit they'll think I'm one of them," said Pitt. "It won't hurt to have a friend inside the house when all hell breaks loose."
"And me?" asked Giordino.
"Stay here, monitor the situation and direct the SWAT team."
"And when Kami calls and asks where the occupants in the car went?"
"Fake it. Say they were a couple of fertilizer salesmen and you took care of them."
"How are you going to get from here to the house?"
"The vineyard runs within a short distance of the front of the house. I'll make my way through the grapevines, and move onto the front porch from behind the columns. Getting across the strip of grass will be the touchy part."
"Don't you get us into another fine mess, Stanley," said Giordino, with the trace of a grin.
"I promise to be good, Ollie."
Giordino turned back to the monitors, as Pitt went up the stairs through the old tree trunk and crept through the vineyard.
Pitt's mind registered two emotions, a fear that he could not rescue Kelly before Kanai's goons worked her over again and a stark, simple urge for vengeance. He found it difficult to believe all the dead bodies left in the wake of the Cerberus Corporation and its gang of murderous Vipers, and for what? Profit? An obsession for power? No one lived long enough to enjoy such rotten rewards for very long. In Pitt's eyes, it was insane.
Crouching below the upper branches of the grapevines, he ran between the rows, his boots sinking in the soft soil. He had not taken the automatic rifle from the incapacitated Viper. He seldom shot a rifle and preferred to travel light, with only his old .45 Colt and two spare ammo clips. The summer day was warm and humid and he began to sweat inside the ski mask. He did not remove it because it was standard wear for the Vipers, and he didn't want to look conspicuous.
He ran more than a hundred yards before the rows of grapevines ended near the front of the house, separated by a narrow strip of well-mowed lawn. He was out of view of the Vipers guarding the barn and back of the house, but moving across fifty feet of open space without being detected by anyone in the house was more like a study in playing invisible man than in acting with stealth. He looked at the windows and detected movement on the other side, which suggested he would be totally visible once he left the shelter of the grapevines.
Fifty feet lay between him and the first column on the porch of the house, fifty feet of open grass under brilliant sunshine. He edged across the end of the grapevines until his movements were veiled by curtains. A sudden dash might catch the eye of someone inside, so he moved very slowly across the yard, watching for any sign of the guard behind the house. One step at a time, he moved like a cat stalking a bird pulling at a worm.
Five wooden steps led up to the columned porch, and Pitt trod slowly, quiedy, fearful of a loud creak that thankfully never came. In less than a few seconds, he was pressing his back against the house around the corner and two feet from the big bay window of the living room. Now he laid himself out prone and inched his body below the window until he reached the other side and could stand and step toward the front door. He slowly turned the knob and cracked the door. No one was in the foyer and he slipped inside like a shadow.
There was no door to the living room. It was entered through an open archway. A clay pot sat on a pedestal beside the archway, with a small tropical plant sprouting from it. Pitt used it as cover to peer into the living room-not a quick glance, but a slow study to firmly fix everyone's position in his mind.
Josh Thomas, with blood trickling down his head from thin cuts on his forehead, ears and nose, sat slumped and bound in a chair in the center of the room. He recognized Ono Kanai as the pilot of the red Fokker. Kanai sat in the center of a large leather sofa, casually leaning against one armrest, calmly smoking a cigar. Two of the Vipers, dressed in black, stood on opposite sides of the fireplace, weapons at the ready. Another stood beside Thomas, a knife in one hand poised above one of Thomas's eyes. The fifth Viper was a giant monster who gripped a struggling Kelly by her long hair with one hand and held her in the air, her feet inches above the carpet. No screams came through her mouth, only agonized moans.
Pitt pulled back a moment around the archway, wondering if Giordino was watching him on a monitor. It was ridiculous to think he could simply walk into the room and say, "All right, you varmints, reach for the sky," and liv
e to a ripe old age. The men inside would think nothing of shooting him a hundred times if he tried anything so foolish. They had spent years training to kill and would not waste a microsecond in decision. Killing came as naturally to men like these as brushing their teeth. Pitt, on the other hand, had to gear himself to shoot another human being. Though he had killed in self-defense, cold blood did not run in his veins. He had to stiffen himself for the ordeal and justify his resolve by the fact that he would be saving the lives of Josh Thomas and Kelly Egan. But only if he was successful-a dim prospect in any light.
Though surprise was on his side and he would not be immediately suspect if he entered the room in black Viper clothing, he decided they'd be safer with another two-second advantage if he shot through the tropical plant while he was still partially hidden. Not immediately knowing where the bullets were coming from would slow their reaction time. He could select his targets in order of priority.
He quickly rejected the idea. He might get two or three of them, but those who remained would surely pepper him with bullets before he could finish the job. Then there was the very likely possibility that a stray bullet could catch Kelly or Thomas. He decided the only hope was to stall for time until the SWAT team showed up. He laid his Colt on the table behind a flower vase and stepped unobtrusively into the room and stood quietly.
At first, Pitt wasn't noticed. Everyone in the room was focused on Kelly, who was struggling with Darfur. He could see the tears streaming from her eyes at the ungodly pain, and it was agonizing for him to stand rigid without attempting to stop the torture. He figured another five minutes would pass before the SWAT team arrived, but he could not stand by and see Kelly and Thomas suffer.
He said calmly to Kanai, "Tell fat boy to let her go."
Kanai looked at Pitt, his eyebrows rising in puzzlement. "What did you say?"
"I said, tell your fat flunky to take his slimy hands off the girl." And he pulled off the ski mask.
Every Viper in the room immediately recognized Pitt as an im-poster, and guns were swiftly raised and aimed at his chest.
"You!" Kanai muttered in astonishment. "Wait!" he shouted. "Do not kill him. Not just yet."
Kelly momentarily dismissed her suffering and stared in stunned surprise. "No, no, you shouldn't have come!" she gasped through clenched lips.
"You'll be next to die, Kanai," said Pitt coldly, "if he doesn't release her."
Kanai gave Pitt a bemused look. "Oh really? And who's going to kill me? You?"
