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“Tito,” I called again, this time more urgently and in German. “Report.”

He finally responded, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m okay but running low on ammo.” His voice came from across the kitchen, probably from the pantry on the inside wall of the room.

“Agent Troy is down. But I’ve got a real weapon for you. Interested?”

“Yah, but how are you going to get it to me? I’m well positioned here. I tossed several boxes of dried pasta in the hall by the door as an alarm and to delay our attacker. It gave our friend out there a nasty surprise when he tried to rush past the door and slipped on the macaroni. It gave me the opportunity to get off several quality shots. I think I winged him, but he managed to scramble back out the door. Not sure he’ll try again. If so, it will likely be through another avenue of approach.”

“Okay, let me think for a moment.” I sensed movement to my right on the floor just inside the kitchen and heard a woman crying softly. “Who’s there?” I asked. “It’s okay. I’m one of the good guys.”

“I’m Diego, and Marta is here with me, too.” A man’s voice wavered. “I’m the catering manager at Bluff House, and Marta is one of my staff.” There was a brief pause, and I heard him say, “Shh, Marta. It will be okay.”

“I’m here, too, Slash,” a woman’s voice said quietly. “To your left in the corner.”

Gray. She was okay. Relief swept through me.

“I’m trying to keep Tito’s position a secret by randomly tossing pans around the kitchen,” she said, her voice calm and strong. “But I, too, am running low on ammunition. There are three others here with me. The chef and a couple of assistant cooks. We’re all unhurt so far. Can you get us out of here?”

Numerous thoughts were running through my head. I had become increasingly concerned that the front door remained unguarded. I didn’t even know if it was locked or not. Furthermore, we were still outgunned, and I had civilians trapped in an extremely dangerous zone. We needed something to even the odds a bit.

Suddenly I had an idea.

“Diego, do you have an emergency generator for the building?” I asked the manager.

“We do.”

“Where is it?”

“Near the back wall of the house. It’s just out the patio door about twenty feet along the wall to the right.”

“Do you know how to turn it on?”

“No. We’ve never had a need to use it since it was installed a couple of years ago. The instructions to turn it on are on the side of the generator, however.”

I ruthlessly considered the possibilities. Without knowing the location of the gunman, it was too dangerous for everyone to try and move. “Thanks, Diego. Okay, everyone, here’s what I want you do. Empty out these lower cabinets and crawl into them. Place the items inside on the floor and push them toward the door where our assailants may trip on them or at least alert us to their location if they breach the kitchen. Don’t worry about making noise—just stay low and hurry up.”

They quickly crawled to the cabinets and began making a racket. I was surprised that it didn’t generate an immediate burst of fire, but even as I thought that, a burst of gunfire thudded through the walls, impacting perilously close to Tito’s position. It didn’t seem like directed firing—more trying to either fix our positions or keep our heads down.

I crept forward carefully, trying to determine exactly where Tito was hiding. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a shadow silhouetted by the faint moonlight right outside the double windows over the sink.

Without hesitating, I launched myself forward, slamming against the kitchen cabinets under the window. A burst of gunfire shattered glass all over me and the kitchen and peppered the spot I had vacated just milliseconds ago. I raised the P90 over the cabinet lip and snapped off a couple of short bursts where the shadow had last been. The silence told me I’d probably missed. But they hadn’t counted on my aggressive response nor the automatic weapon. That had to up their perception of the defenses for this entrance, at least temporarily.

Still, I had to presume our assailants, given their lack of success at an easy entrance, would soon regroup and change up their attack. Our only chance was to keep them outside. If they got inside, the night-vision goggles would give them too much of an advantage and we had too few weapons and too many people to protect.

Unless we could get the generator turned on and the lights on.

The generator could be the key.

TWELVE

Lexi

Ididn’t know how much time had passed, but in my growing fear at what was happening downstairs, I let myself get sucked down the rabbit hole of trying to figure out what was happening by imagining potential scenarios and calculating their percentage of success.

It wasn’t until Elvis snapped his fingers in front of my face that I jumped back to reality. “Did you hear what I just said, Lexi?”

“No,” I answered honestly.

“I said I want to tell you girls something important given our exceptionally grim situation and in case we die tonight.”