This chapter had originally been titled "Assault on Hawke mansion". I wanted to feature the Hawke brothers repelling an attack on their home front.
"STRING!!" St John's harsh whisper pierced the stillness of the bedroom.
They were laying on cots on either end of the room right next to the two doors. Despite being asleep, there had been some hint of sound which had been anomalous enough to catch his attention. He had been still for a moment while his mind processed all of what his senses were telling him.
Nothing.
He'd called out to his brother in a clipped whisper through barely parted lips. It had been done in such a way that would have made a ventriloquist jealous as nobody outside the room could have heard him.
Stringfellow seemed to reach a restless point in his slumber as he tossed slightly to go from sleeping on his back to his side where he was now facing St John. Stringfellow took in the slow, even breath of sleep and, as he exhaled, he whispered breathily,
"Yeah; I heard it too!" As if on cue, both of them snapped from their reclining position to a ready position.
In one abrupt yet smooth motion, they rolled out of their cots, drew their sidearms, and came up to a high crouch as they aimed for the doors nearest them. Peeking around the door frames, they both noted the halls were clear and then made for the closet near St John's bed.
They quickly and quietly opened the hidden compartment at the end of the walk-in closet and retrieved weapons from within. They both grabbed tactical versions of their .40 pistols which were equipped with suppressors. St John grabbed an M4 while Stringfellow opted for a semiautomatic shotgun and an MP-5/10mm.
There were 2 simultaneous crashes as the brothers recognized breaching charges being used on the back door for the first floor and the skylight on the unfinished attic.
Using a series of combat gestures and mixing in Sign Language, they determined that St John would go upstairs and Stringfellow would go downstairs. Almost as an afterthought, St John tossed Stringfellow a communications earpiece. Stringfellow looked into the bottom of the compartment with a puzzled expression and asked,
"You didn't add any grenades after all? I thought we'd discussed this?" His brother grinned and shook his head. He then whispered,
"Well excuse me! I stopped in Serbia on the way home but I left them in the storage compartment of SKYSHARK." Stringfellow shrugged,
"I just figured that there is no problem so great that it cannot be solved by the suitable application of explosive devices." St John nodded and grinned since he'd been the one to first use the line before his brother picked it up.
There was plenty of ambient light from the decorative lights on the front lawn but the brothers chose to grab gLESses Light-Expanding Spectacles anyway.
St John darted for the door closest to the stairwell for the attic. When he rounded the corner to ascend the stairs, he got the shock of his life. He found himself facing 3 men descending the same stairs who were armed with mini-UZIs!
St John reflexively pulled the trigger on his rifle but it was still set for select-fire. Fortunately, due to the point-blank range, the single bullet drilled through all his opponents.
He slung his weapon and leapt over the bodies to run up the stairs halfway. From there he was able to jump up to grab an exposed support beam. St John hauled himself up and crawled along a connecting beam until he reached the central truss. In a crouch, he cat-footed along the sturdily mounted wood over the heads of a dozen attackers.
He was glad his brother had insisted on exceeding the building codes established for earthquakes and hurricanes. Even though St John could hear a light rain starting to come through the now-destroyed skylight, there was no squeaking from the beam as he walked along it.
If even one of these guys thinks of looking up, I'm in serious trouble!
He made his way to the opposite end of the truss which put him over the far stairwell. He was also at he opposite end of the unfinished area from the attackers. He had a clear field of fire from the superstructure into the mounted sheets of drywall which had been hung to establish several new upstairs rooms.
St John lowered himself to another support beam and shimmied to an adjoining crossbeam where he set up position. He wrapped his legs around a crossbeam and reclined behind one of the main vertical supports. He laid his rifle against the support and quietly switched the weapon over to fully automatic.
It went without saying that those who were not taken down immediately would return fire. All St John had to do would be to do a situp and the vertical support would make for a perfect defensive position. A couple quips and one-liners went through his head but he figured he had better let the element of surprise speak for itself.
This was, after all, real life and not some Hollywood script–or, worse yet, some internet fan story based on a TV show.
He took a deep breath and calmed himself by counting backward from 5 to 1. St John fired several sweeping bursts right as one of the men in front dragged one of the first 3 he'd shot back up the steps. St John figured he'd shot about half those remaining before one of them spotted his muzzle flash and shot back.
Fortunately for him they were all using 9mm PDWs and he knew from experience that those rounds would penetrate less than an inch into the wood. Still the impacts against the beam he was now hiding against were more than a bit unsettling.
He peeked around and saw a handful of men dart from one section of drywall to another. They were attempting to attack his blind spot which was just in front of the support his legs were wrapped around!
He leaned around and waited until they passed around the next section of drywall to make his move. Making a calculated guess, he all but emptied the clip into the end section of the drywall at about waist height.
The long burst tore a ragged hole in the relatively flimsy construction. The man on the end staggered out from behind the wall and fell, bloody holes in his gut and chest. As he landed, a spray of blood shot forth from his mouth and he was still. Another attacker could be partially seen through the hole in the drywall as the impact of the rounds slamming into his back sent him sinking to the floor.
St John swept the M4's fire along the wall as he continued his final rounds in the burst. There was a shout of pain and, farther down, several rounds were fired through the bottom of the wall at an odd angle from the other side. He thought he'd gotten them all until he slapped in a fresh mag and saw at least one gunman making a hasty retreat around the far end of the destroyed wall.
About a handful of the gunmen seemed to decide to beat a hasty retreat down the far stairwell and St John fired off a few short bursts as he pressed the microphone against his throat,
"I'm sending a few your direction. I'll be coming around the main stairwell." He heard his brother reply,
"Main stairwell; Aye!" St John made his way across one of the supports so that he could drop through the unfinished section of the ceiling above the attic's foyer area.
As he got into the open, the gunmen had the worst timing possible. Right as he lowered himself to crawl across the crossbeam, they decided to rush the attic unleashing a hail of gunfire. St John gave a mighty leap toward the opening.
…And missed!
He hit the drywall right where it was connected to the existing construction. He would have gone completely through if his brother had finished the wall and cut the studs to length. As it was, he landed almost between the studs and the drywall all but completely held.
For an instant, St John thought he'd get stuck but his inertia along with a generous amount of blind/dumb luck caused him to tumble awkwardly along. He flipped sideways and banged his knees against the crossbeam he'd originally been aiming for. This impact redirected his movement just enough so that he caused the next piece of drywall to break off as he skidded across, nearly missing the entrance altogether. The diverting of his path along with the wall breaking caused him to slam into the far wall of the finished section of the upper stairwell rather than going over it.
As he fell through the open section of ceiling to the stairs below in a less than acrobatic maneuver he mumbled wryly,
"8-Ball corner pocket!"
Stringfellow heard his brother's voice clearly but with an odd tonal quality which meant he was pressing the earpiece's mike against his throat so that he could speak softly rather than whisper. Stringfellow responded in kind,
"Roger that. Heading for kitchen." The only reply he got was a crash and a series of pained grunts ending with his brother's voice saying Oops! sheepishly.
Stringfellow made his way across the next bedroom staying to the edges as he crept through. This room and the adjoining walk-in closet weren't anywhere near finished and several of the floorboards weren't completely fastened down.
The walk-in closet was the size of a small room in itself. It was actually slightly separated from the bedroom since it was originally part of the garage but Stringfellow was trying to be clever when he rebuilt it. The area above the garage was long and narrow so Stringfellow had walled off half of the main stairwell and then extended the wall to make the closet for the main bedroom. The other side of the wall at the end of the closet was the second floor landing which Reg used the finished section as a bedroom. It also had access to the main second floor bathroom which had originally been the exclusive domain of the master bedroom.
Part of the reconstruction was a section of the master stairwell at the wall of the house just above and behind the kitchen pantry which was only 2 feet wide and the only people who knew about the secret passage were those who had seen the obscured access from the entrance in the closet upstairs. The closet entrance to the passage was part of the decorative covering for the plumbing for the adjacent bathroom.
Stringfellow made his way to the closet and lifted up the metal coverplate over the empty space between the buildings. It gave him a perfect firing position at the two gunmen who were crossing the kitchen below. He aimed his subgun and pulled the trigger for a quick strafing burst. One shot rang out and struck an attacker in the arm. He suddenly remembered that this MP5/10mm tended to jam on fully automatic and he had been intending to take it to his gunsmith.
He dropped the plate right as the two men began firing at him. He tried twice to clear the jam but was unsuccessful. With a flash of inspiration, he drew the tactical .40 and darted through the passageway. In 2 quick bounds, he made it to the point where the original stairwell widened and Stringfellow had put a turnaround into the passageway. He paused long enough to put a suppressed round through the friction roller-lock for the concealed door in the pantry. He kept low as he smashed through the door shoulder first.
His momentum along with a bunch of formerly stacked cans carried him across the entrance to the pantry as he fired multiple rounds on the fly at the gunmen who were still firing at the area of the metal plate. The men fell in place and Stringfellow left them where they were.
He holstered his pistol and grabbed their 9mm PDWs. While reloading the captured weapons, he looked around for a place to get cover from the men coming through the back door. He'd set the weapons down on the counter as he loaded fresh magazines.
He was right next to the pantry facing partway into the kitchen when something struck him as being wrong. With his adrenaline rush, he was trying to keep his vital signs from getting too high and stabilizing his breathing was causing his heartbeat to sound off in his ears. There it was again; the sound of a heavy footstep in the kitchen with him!
A sudden flash of inspiration occurred to him and he spun around, shotgun in hand. As he began to take aim, two separate floorboards above him squeaked and Stringfellow fired off 3 rounds of .002 aught buckshot into the ceiling at the precise location of where he knew the loose floorboards in question to be.
There was a grunt and a choked-off scream followed by the distinct sounds of two bodies falling. He then heard the sound of a commotion above him and the sounds of footfalls which were very familiar to him. As Stringfellow busied himself preparing his weapons, he grinned as he heard his brother run down the upstairs hallway and enter the first bedroom. The steps continued toward where Stringfellow knew the upstairs wall between the bedrooms to be.
His brother's footsteps didn't stop…in fact they continued along their path in a straight line.
Wait a minute, there's no door there! It's a blank wall―or at least it was!!
For his part, St John had crossed through the crawlspace between the floors and came out right at the storage closet doors just before the attic's entry. The surprise tactic worked as he was able to take out another handful of gunmen who were descending the stairs carefully. The drawback was that he'd actually come out too early and the bulk of the gunmen scrambled back up the stairs.
Since they had the high ground, St John decided he may as well join Stringfellow at a point of last defense. He dove down the stairs and ran for the first bedroom. He heard some scrambled confusion behind him but no shots followed him down. Upon entering the room he did hear some gunfire but it was still coming from the stairwell.
He crossed the room in a heartbeat and unleashed a long burst from his M4. He shot the wall up from the baseboard to nearly head height and then back down again. It was a stunt he'd seen performed in the movie Escape From New York and it seemed like something to try out of desperation. He continued his run and led with his shoulder as he went through the section of the wall he'd just outlined. Pain shocked his shoulder as he went through and he realized he'd likely just added a bunch of splinters to the various scars on his body.
OUCH! Snake Plissken/Kurt Russell made it look so much easier, not to mention less painful!
He made his way to the open walk-in closet and noted that the metal coverplate was removed and bullet-ridden. Peering through, the kitchen appeared empty.
St John checked the door to the passageway but it was stuck. He could push it open but he would be too big to fit through. If he pulled it open, he would have had to lift it slightly as one of the hinges looked loose as though his brother had gone through too fast. He set up position at the opening to the closet waiting for the attic gunmen to follow. He heard the sounds of several men entering the kitchen but couldn't see them from his perspective.
Down in the kitchen several men entered using a tactical-style formation. The room appeared empty save for two bodies laying in front of the pantry, one face up and the other face down. There were several whispers among the small group of attackers.
The man who was in the lead held up a hand and they all came to a halt but the whispers continued as the leader looked slowly around the oversized kitchen. He then aimed his weapon toward the pantry and took a tentative step forward even though the gunman on the other wall could see into the shallow closet and whispered a negative announcement of human presence.
The gunman's announcement was punctuated by a crash from the commercial-sized oven in the corner near the door they had just entered through. The oven slammed open and Stringfellow leaned out.
He was squatting in such a way that his legs pushed the appliance's door open and then stayed straight to balance himself as he leaned his shoulders out to spread his arms wide as though to embrace the closest gunmen. The two closest were mere feet away but in nearly opposite directions. Stringfellow called out,
"Hey Stupid! Try behind you!" And he committed to an action he promised he'd never do: firing two guns at once; typically it was ineffective and only done to increase the drama of an already ridiculous scene.
Unfortunately, in Stringfellow's opinion, the word ridiculous didn't even begin to describe this situation. In his peripheral vision, he noted that one of the MP-5 PDW's had a Tac-Light and the other had a laser sight as he pulled the triggers.
Half of the gunmen were illuminated as they were shot down and the other half had a red dot trace a line across them. With fierce determination and almost positive that, despite the fact he was behind them and had the element of surprise on his side, Stringfellow was sure he would end up the recipient of a stray/lucky shot. As he fired he crossed and uncrossed his arms in a sweeping motion until both weapons were empty.
He dropped them and grabbed the .40 SIG off his lap. Fortunately all his attackers had fallen.
From upstairs, St John saw the muzzle flashes and heard multiple bodies fall. Looking up, he saw a figure pass the hole he'd just torn in the wall and fired. The figure spun and fell through the hole, effectively blocking it. He also heard several men running past the door to the room heading for the main staircase. He was about to follow them when he realized that it would put his brother and himself at opposite ends of a wicked crossfire and one stray bullet could have one brother kill the other.
He had another flash of inspiration from an action movie. He'd only seen the first half of the movie until he'd been reminded that Caitlin hated vampire movies. She'd chided him about drooling over the brunette actress wearing the tight leather bodysuit as she shot up everything in sight, including a building's floor. The latter was in order to make a clever escape.
He'd later seen an episode of MYTHBUSTERS in which the Team had 'Busted' the scene, proving it was impossible to shoot the floor in order to collapse it and then cause one's weight to fall through to the floor below. St John came to his feet and slapped in a fresh magazine as he said,
"Unfortunately, Mr Belecci was using pistol rounds while I have rifle rounds in this baby. Too bad Eugene Stoner didn't include a chainsaw in his patent for this thing!" He spun around as he fired at the floor and made a complete circle. His pants were sprayed with slivers and the floor creaked and groaned when he was done. Without thinking, he jumped up and stomped down hard with his heels as he landed. To his surprise, he fell through. He landed on a spilled pile of cans and lost his footing. As he sat down the hardest and most painful since his crash-landing in the SKYSHARK, his brother ran across the room with his pistol in hand. St John looked at the bodies scattered around the oversized kitchen, picked himself up and said,
"Well String you certainly got lucky with that 10mm. Although I'm slightly curious since I thought I saw 2 muzzle flashes."
"You did. This thing jammed again so I persuaded a couple of them to give me their guns." While getting to his feet, St John gestured for the MP-5/10mm. There was the sound of feet descending the stairwell and Stringfellow readied his shotgun. He glanced over as his brother brought his knee and the butt of the H&K94 sharply together. This effectively cleared the jam and St John cycled the action to eject the spent casing before handing it back over.
Rather than immediately taking the weapon, Stringfellow waited until the footfalls were at the bottom of the steps and then flung open the sliding doors to the kitchen and poured multiple shot-blasts at the men trying to escape. Stringfellow grabbed the submachinegun as his brother tossed it to him on their way to the front door. Stringfellow first noted his brother had already switched the 10mm over to 3-round-burst before he started firing again.
Instead of having a few providing cover fire on the run, all of the retreating gunmen ran as a group toward the road. A couple of those running away were faster or slower and moved away from the rest.
St John dropped the clip from his weapon and glanced at a couple clips in his sling before he found one that he inserted which his brother could easily see was only half-loaded. He looked over at his brother and smiled,
"Do it, to it; String. Show them that Major Hawke can be a major pain at times." Both of them opened fire. St John was firing select-fire as fast as he could pull the trigger. It was more accurate to fire that way and he was picking off the few in the lead before they could get to the trees in case they had heavier weapons ready. Stringfellow was firing 3-round bursts as fast as he could stroke the trigger.
There was some return fire but much of it was ineffective as it simply kicked up dirt about halfway between the two firing parties. Only a handful actually made it to the treeline. The brothers noted it was on the far end of the property from the road. As they both reloaded, St John commented,
"This is completely extraordinary. Yet it is just another day in the life of the Hawke family." His brother started to share his laugh. Suddenly Stringfellow got a perplexed look on his face and lifted his gLESses and lowered them again.
"There's an overturned van at the start of the curve. Let's go check it out." Minutes later they were at the site of Reg's handiwork. As he checked the young man's vital signs, St John mused,
"I wonder which is in worse shape, Reg or the van?" Stringfellow made a pinched expression and sighed,
"The van I could care less about. His broken body is all that matters right now. This is getting too personal for my taste. Excuse me while I place a call." St John glanced at his watch and noted how late it was in relation to midnight. NOW?! He gave his brother a bewildered look as Stringfellow snapped his cell open with a flick of his wrist.
"Hello Arch… Yes I know what time it… No I'm not trying to… I know that you are busy… Will you please list… Michael, SHUT UP!" The familiar voice on the other end continued to rant for another second and then came to an abrupt halt. Stringfellow took a breath and continued, "That's better now, Thank you! I simply wanted to let you know that the answer to both your questions is 'Yes'. No I don't have any stipulations or considerations in the matter. Yes I know what the arguments are; I made most of them and they still stand. My only request is that he asks me himself in person. Yes I think I deserve that. No it is not a demand, I'm just of the opinion that it was his concept in the first place and that our working relationship should give some consideration in the matter. Yes I know we will have to clarify some things and I'm perfectly willing to meet at your earliest convenience. I'll have to call in some favors, especially from my brother about the one aspect. My apologies for disturbing your evening's activities and extend my respects to your guest." St John waited patiently with a look which said Ok I'll bite, what's going on? Stringfellow closed his phone and sighed,
"We need to talk."
