Each night after her shower, Rochelle put on slacks and shirt and slept in them. She kept comfortable sneakers handy to complete her ensemble. Michael's last letter indicated she was not to take anything with her except what she wore, and she wanted to be ready on a minute's notice.
It was hard to fall asleep now, knowing she might be seeing Michael in a matter of hours. The fact they would all be in danger of the guards who would not hesitate to fire their weapons at intruders left Rochelle extremely worried. However, she must trust Michael to know what he was doing, and the fact that his intrusion would come as a surprise might very well ensure their safety and success.
Tobias did not permit the guards upstairs, except when he summoned one, which was rarely, but she knew they would not hesitate to come up and check on her if they suspected foul play.
Therefore, nightly she locked her door, and propped a chair back beneath the doorknob, sure Michael would come from the outside onto the bedroom balcony.
Lately, she had spent a good deal of time on the balcony, looking out over the wide stretch of green lawn where the dogs, released around five each evening, ran about playfully, barking at the least noise or movement. They were vicious animals as Rochelle had witnessed when the trainer worked with them, seeing their sharp fangs tearing into the padded sleeves on his arms and legs. She thought about Michael and the damage the dogs were capable of doing, hoping he would wear pads like those the trainer wore.
She knew she was making a nervous wreck out of herself trying to anticipate all that would be happening. She even tried to formulate her own plan in the event something went wrong.
Checking the nightstand on Tobias's side of the bed, she found the gun he kept there, checked it for ammunition, which she learned how to do by watching Tobias, and slipped it in her purse. If she had to use it to save Michael, she would. That would probably be the only reason that would prompt her to fire the gun.
THE THIRD NIGHT FOLLOWING Tobias's departure, at exactly three o'clock in the morning, Joe threw a large bag of raw beef over the fence. Scenting the smell, the dogs came awake with growls and snarls, their eyes keening anxiously as they rose up on their haunches, barking and running in the direction of some unknown source.
“Damn!” Joe cursed. He was hoping to draw the dogs without them barking. They would wake every guard on the place. Wearing dark clothing, like the other men, with a ski hood over his head, he scaled the wall so he could watch as the dogs came hurdling toward where the meat lay upon the ground. As soon as the scent touched their nostrils, they stopped barking, sniffed about the meat, and then with grunts and snarls, began tearing into it. Michael had said the sedative was fast acting, but just in case, they all kept their pepper spray in readiness.
Joe scanned the area of lawn inside the brick wall, and breathed a sigh of relief when he didn't see guards running out to investigate.
They obviously were not sensitive to the dogs barking, or else, believed the dogs were vicious enough to patrol the grounds independently.
Exactly ten minutes later when the dogs began wobbling on weak legs, falling, then struggling up only to fall again, Leland Maxwell was already at the top of the power pole, looking at his watch, ready to synchronize his efforts with the distraction Curly would initiate.
Leland saw Curly come roaring down the street in a large utility van weaving dangerously, taking a sharp right that brought it crashing into the gate with a noise that sounded like an explosion. At the same moment, all the lights on the estate suddenly went dark, giving Michael, Ramm Prescott, and Wallace Udell the blackout they needed. They scaled the wall in meager seconds and hastened across the lawn, keeping to the shadows of trees and shrubs.
Wallace Udell sabotaged the generator in just a few seconds after he reached it, and headed back toward the wall where he would be in readiness when Michael and Ramm returned with Rochelle. He could hear the high-pitched voices of men as they ran toward the gate, and in the darkness, he could see the light colored shirts of three. That meant there was still at least one or two inside somewhere.
“Where are the damn dogs?” One of the guards asked, looking all about.
“Something's wrong,” another stated in alarm, suddenly reaching the gate to find it lying upon the driveway, and the front end of a van smashed to smithereens, with no sign of a driver. The gate guard was flat on his back, his face looking pulverized like hamburger, but he was alive.
“Stay here, Anderson. Gibson you take the left and I'll take the right,” said Dave, running along the edge of the six-foot brick wall with his gun in his hand. Then tripping on the dogs, he stumbled and fell, and Joe stepped from the shadows and sent a deafening blow to the back of his head. Joe retrieved the gun slung from the guard's hand, it lying like black ink in the pale moonlight.
Curly and Leland were already in one of the two cars that sat along the street in the shadow of a huge old tree while Joe waited in the shadow where the sleeping dogs lay beside the unconscious man.
ROCHELLE WOKE FROM a light sleep to what sounded like a heavy clap of thunder. Listening carefully while her senses remained dulled by the dredges of sleep, she closed her eyes again when she heard nothing more. She dozed peacefully when a gloved hand closed over her mouth, and her eyes flew open, but she could see absolutely nothing because wherever she looked there was complete darkness. Only on the balcony was there any trace of light, the soft glow of the moon spreading a silvery cast. She saw a shadow and the gloved hand smothered the startled scream rising in her throat.
“Rochelle, it's me, Michael. Do not scream. I am going to remove my hand. We have to move quickly.”
At that same instant, heavy pounding sounded on her door, and a tiny squeak indicated someone trying to turn the doorknob. “Mrs.
Chandler, open the door. Open the door.”
“Don't answer,” Michael told her, and pulled her off the bed.
She slid her feet into her sneakers and grabbed her purse at the same time a heavy thud struck the bedroom door. The chair she put there kept it from opening, and the thud sounded again. This time a spray of splintered wood flew inward and the chair disintegrated.
The shadow Rochelle had seen on the balcony seemed to float with easy grace into the room on stealthy feet. Her eyes were more accustomed to the darkness now, and she could see the shadow standing with his back to the wall next to the door. Another kick sent the damaged door slamming back against the wall, and when the guard stepped inside the room with his gun extended in front of him, he never knew what hit him.
Ramm, the shadow Rochelle had seen, knocked the gun from the guard's hand. He sidestepped the man's beefy fist, and then put him down in one fast move with a hard, fast kick that knocked him unconsciousness.
The noise made by the guard kicking in the bedroom door brought another guard, the light from his flashlight bouncing up the stairs as he came in pursuit. “Troy, what's going on?” he shouted as his feet pounded on the upstairs landing and he sprinted the distance to Rochelle's bedroom. His flashlight waltzed horizontally back and forth across the space in front of him, bouncing off the hallway walls.
When Troy failed to answer, his steps became slower, more hesitant and careful, stepping across the threshold with caution.
Upon aiming his flashlight into Rochelle's room, the first thing he saw was the sprawled figure of Troy on the floor. Before he could move the beam of his flashlight anywhere else in the room, a harsh chop on the back of his neck sent him down on all fours. He crumpled flat on his face and stomach on the carpeted floor next to Troy.
By the time Ramm joined them, Michael had already lowered Rochelle over the balcony by a rope tied around her, and was going down a second rope. Ramm shimmied down the rope right behind him, following in Michael and Rochelle's wake as they sprinted around the house toward the wall where Joe and the others waited.
The sound of gunfire rang out, and the whiz of a bullet spun by Michael's ear, so close that another inch would have found the bullet buried inside his skull. Another hissed somewhere nearby, and they had to make an instant decision to either go straight for the wall, or fall back in the shadows.
Ramm made the decision. “Michael, keep to the darkness beneath the trees. I'll try to cut back around through the shade of the shrubs and trees and draw his attention while the two of you make it over the fence.
The sound of another gunshot exploded in their ears, much closer than the last.
Michael pulled Rochelle behind a tree trunk while Ramm ran toward the house in a weaving pattern, the moon just light enough to cast his black-clothed figure in a dark shadow against the pale light.
More gunfire burst out in sharp repeated explosions, and as soon as Michael saw the guard running in the same direction Ramm took, he pulled Rochelle into a run toward the wall.
Joe stooped on the top of the wall now, ready to help. He grabbed hold of the rope wrapped around Rochelle's waist after Michael threw it up to him. He put pulled her up, and then lowered her to the other side where Curly caught her before her feet touched the ground. Michael was close behind, scaling the wall as soon as Joe tossed the rope back to him. He was on the other side in less than thirty seconds, encircling Rochelle with his arm.
“Go, go!” Curly called in whispered shouts as he motioned Joe, Michael, Rochelle and Leland toward the lead car. “Me and Udell will wait for Ramm.”
At that moment, Ramm hid in the shadows behind a tall bush around the corner of the house. As the guard came tearing around the corner, Ramm was waiting for him, and before the guard could get off the shot his finger was already squeezing the trigger to discharge, Ramm disarmed him as his leg swung out, his foot slamming with enough force against the gun-hand to break the man's wrist. Following with a fast punch to his middle, the man bent double. Ramm followed with a chop upon his neck and shoulder, and the guard went down without a fight.
Ramm wasted no time getting to the wall. He shimmied up the rope, and scaled the wall in brief seconds, sprinting to the waiting car that was already moving before he jumped inside He closed the door behind him.
“Whew!” he said in a puff of breath. “Those bullets came awfully close. Did Michael and Rochelle make it okay?”
“They're at least three blocks ahead of us,” Curly stated with a pleased grin on his face. Slapping each of their hands, he said, “We did great, fellows. We did it!”
Up ahead in the lead car, Leland Maxwell, the electrician, squirmed in his seat, turning toward Joe who was driving. “I'm glad that's over with. Those damn bullets nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“It was like taking candy from a baby,” Joe laughed, experiencing a surge of adrenaline he hadn't felt since he was a young man involved in Saturday night barroom brawls that kept him and his friends preoccupied against boredom. He glanced at his busted fist and laughed some more. “That damn guard at the gate won't be breathing out of his nose for a long time. I haven't had so much fun in ages.”
“We're not out of it yet,” Michael told them. “They'll probably put the cops on us. Watch your speed and watch out for police cars.
Curly will stay far enough behind so we won't be suspected of traveling together in the event one of us is stopped.”
Neither Rochelle nor Michael had spoken to each other. She sat on the seat next to him trying to control her violent shaking as though she were freezing to death. Michael put his arm about her and pulled her next to him. “Are you all right?” he asked softly, feeling her trembling against him.
“Yes, but I'm afraid this car will need a wheel alignment if I don't stop shaking.”
That remark brought chuckles from all around, and Michael kissed her cheek, catching the soft scent of lavender he recalled so well. He breathed deeply, and gave her a warm hug. He had just pulled off what Rochelle had feared might be an impossible feat.
Yet, sitting next to Michael was proof of their success. Tobias wouldn't be pleased with his guards, she decided, and wished she could see Tobias's face when the guards informed him of what happened.
Their car moved into an area bright with streetlights, which shone inside the car. Rochelle observed Michael in his dark clothing looking like some dark, dangerous and shadowy figure that belied the gentleness she remembered so well. Withdrawing his arm from about her, he quickly pulled the black shirt over his head and discarded it on the floorboard. Then pulling a short-sleeved sport shirt off the seat, he put it on quickly and buttoned it. The men up front did likewise, changing out of the dark shirts to don lighter ones. When they passed a dumpster, Joe brought the car to a stop, and Leland threw the dark shirts and black hoods in the dumpster.
Just in case the police stopped them, there wouldn't be any incriminating evidence to mark their recent activities.
Rochelle glanced at Michael, the thrill of elation at seeing him again leaving her giddy. “I didn't hear the dogs, Michael. Where were they?”
Michael chuckled. “They had a steak dinner and turned in for the night. I imagine they'll sleep soundly until morning.”
Michael kept looking out the back window. Joe was also glancing through the rearview mirror. “You see that Mike?” he asked. “You don't think its Curly, do you?”
“I see it. Take a right at the next street. If it follows us, Rochelle and I will hop out and hide in the shadows. Call Curly on the two-way radio and give him the name of the street so he can pick us up if something goes wrong. If worse comes to worst, we will take a cab to the nearest motel from this location. If you can't find us and we get separated, I'll get a rental car and head out of town. You guys do the same.”
Handing Rochelle a brown paper bag, he said, “Honey, you're going to be a blonde again. You'd better put this on.”
She quickly stuffed her hair beneath the wig, and straightened it upon her head. “I think I like this one better than the last one I wore,” she said with a nervous chuckle to hide her anxiousness. She was scared and still shaking. The lateness of the hour did not offer heavy enough traffic to give them good cover.
Leland called Curly on the two-way radio and gave him their location. “Keep your eye on that car that's moving up behind us. I can't tell if it's the police or not. If it is, Michael and Rochelle will jump out and take cover in the shadow of a storefront. I'll be in touch.”
Joe turned on another street, and they all were keeping an eye on the rear to see if the other car would follow them.
The other car, a couple of blocks back, turned in behind them.
“They're following us, Mike. I am going to turn another corner, and the two of you jump out and hide in the shadow of a doorway. If it is the cops, I will ask for the nearest motel as a diversion and make my way there. I will circle back here just in case Curly misses you. Don't take a cab unless you absolutely have to. The police will put them on alert, I imagine.”
They turned the corner and Michael and Rochelle jumped out and ran for the cover of a darkened doorway. They hovered in the shadows and watched as a police cruiser rushed by, following Curly and Leland. Staying in the shadows of the buildings, they backtracked to the first side street where Joe had turned off. Soon they saw headlights and Michael thought it looked like the car Curly drove. When it came close enough that he recognized it, Michael stepped out of the shadows, and waved.
When Curly stopped at the curb and they jumped in, he turned around in the street and went back the way he came, picking up his route again at the light. “Was that the police following you, Mike?”
“Yes, they'll be all over the place soon. We have to get out of here as fast as possible. We will wait for Joe to call us. It won't be safe for us to call him if the police pulls him over.”
“Maybe we need to find a motel and lie low until tomorrow.
With more traffic on the streets, we'll be less observable,” Curly suggested.
“No, that's out. As soon as Chandler learns what has happened, he will have everybody he knows out looking for Rochelle. I think we best get the hell out of here. Let's just keep moving.”
“You got it!”