Reel’s finger touched the trigger guard and then dipped to the trigger.
“One second,” said Dolph, as his finger went to the pistol’s trigger.
The front gates of the compound exploded open.
And for a second time in recent memory, all hell broke loose in eastern Colorado.
The Hummer threw up dirt and gravel as it fishtailed into the interior court of the compound.
Two pickup trucks were right behind it. Bullets started flying from all three vehicles.
Reel had reacted the moment the doors had been knocked in.
She
swung her rifle around and caught Dolph right in the gut. He dropped his weapon and bent over, gasping for air. She snapped the rifle straight up and the barrel caught him directly on the chin. This blow lifted him off his feet and he fell backward on his ass. A bare second passed before Reel had the weapon pointed right at his bleeding face. He looked up at her, his eyes pleading. She looked down at him, her gaze full of revulsion. Her finger swept to the trigger.
He shook his head. Tears filled his eyes.
He mouthed something that she couldn’t hear clearly. It sort of sounded like please.
Yeah, right.
Her finger started to bear down on the trigger. Then she stopped, her finger barely a millimeter from the point of no return.
She took her foot and smashed it into his face, bouncing his head off the hard ground and knocking him out.
Meanwhile, Robie had rolled to the right and come up next to a guard who had ducked down when the Hummer had burst in.
It was the last thing the man would ever do.
Robie used the man’s own knife to slit his throat. He seized the dead man’s pistol and shot two men who were running toward him.
Reel dropped to one knee, aimed her rifle, and shot two guards off the watchtower.
Like a movie stunt scene they fell over the sides of the tower and plummeted thirty feet to the dirt. They felt no pain on impact, being already dead.
Robie raced toward the Hummer, which was spinning around while shooters inside were laying down fields of fire, keeping the skinheads running and ducking for cover. The pickup trucks were doing the same.
A door on the Hummer opened up and a man leaned out and beckoned to Robie.
“Get in!”
Robie didn’t wait to be told a second time.
On the other side of the Hummer another man had opened his door and was calling out to Reel.
Keeping low, she sprinted hard toward the vehicle.
Rounds were flying through the air all around her.
One struck the butt of her rifle, shattering it. It knocked her off stride but she managed to hold on to it despite the shock wave of the impact.
She regained her balance and leapt toward the open door.
Strong hands snagged her and pulled her in. She sat up in the seat and slammed the door shut even as a bullet hit the window, shattering it.
They all ducked down.
A man yelled out, “Go, go!”
The driver put the Hummer in reverse, and the six-thousand-pound vehicle leapt backward, causing attacking skinheads to throw themselves out of the way.
The Hummer passed butt first through the gate, and then the driver put it into a one-eighty and pointed the nose toward open country.
Reel looked behind her and saw that the pickup trucks had done the same.
The three vehicles roared to safety as shots continued to chase them from the compound.
They reached the main road and headed west.
Reel and Robie looked around at the men in the Hummer.
Then the man in the passenger seat turned around to look at them.
It was Doctor King.
“What the hell?” began Robie.
“Hold that thought,” said King.
He turned back around while Robie and Reel exchanged a confused glance.
Later, they pulled to a stop in the center of Grand.
King climbed out but the rest of his men stayed inside the vehicle.
Robie and Reel joined him. Reel still clutched her rifle.
King went to the back of the Hummer, opened the door, and said, “We got that from your truck.”
It was the hard-sided case with their other weaponry.
He looked at Reel’s damaged rifle. “Will it still shoot?” he asked.
She nodded. “So long as I have a target to aim at.”
King pulled the case out and walked into their hotel. Robie and Reel, exchanging another glance, followed.
They went up to Robie’s room, and when the door was closed King set the case down. “Your truck was pretty badly torn up. Don’t think it’s drivable. But we arranged for another truck for you to use. It’s down on the street. Untraceable to us.”
He tossed Robie a set of keys.
“Why are you doing this?” asked Reel.
“And how did you even know we’d been taken by the skinheads?” added Robie.
King sat down in a chair. He was dressed differently from before. Jeans, a dark shirt, a canvas vest, boots, and a ball cap.
He leaned forward. “To answer your second question first, I’ve got ears inside Dolph’s place. That’s how I knew. Glad we got there in time. The idiots on the watchtowers weren’t even looking our way.”
“They were watching us about to die,” said Robie.
“And the answer to the first question?” said Reel.
King reached down to his boot, undid the heel, and pulled something out of the revealed compartment. When he held it up they could see it was a badge.
“FBI?” said Robie, looking stunned.
King nodded before putting the badge back in its hiding place. “Been out here for years. Undercover, of course.”
“But why?”
“You just have to look around to answer that. There are more vigilante groups out here than you can imagine. There are pockets of them in lots of states, but they tend to gravitate to the great outdoors—translation being ‘where law enforcement is spread very thin.’”
“But you started the King’s Apostles?” said Reel.
“It was excellent cover. And a great source of information and interaction with some of the worst scum you’ve ever seen. I’ve been building cases against these assholes, like Dolph, all this time. I couldn’t reveal myself to you initially, even though you were fellow Feds.”
“No problem there,” said Reel. “We don’t reveal ourselves either if we can help it.”
Robie said, “I had an encounter with one of your guys at the bar across the street. Bruce is his real name.”
“No, his real name is Special Agent Todd Cummins. He told me about the encounter and that you helped him out big-time in front of the others. I appreciate that.”
“So you got some backup here, that’s good,” said Robie.
“What’s your actual name?” asked Reel.
“Special Agent Dwight Sanders.”
“Well, you’re doing a helluva job, Agent Sanders. And thanks for saving our butts.”
Reel said, “So is that how your group is funded? With government dollars?”
“That’s a big part of it. But you have to get in the dirt and muck around if you want to get to the really bad stuff. The Apostles are just young guys looking for direction. If I hadn’t recruited them, Dolph or some others would have. We do a lot of good, but we do just enough bad for me to get what I need.”
Robie nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”
“So what were you doing at Dolph’s compound?” Sanders asked.
“We didn’t go voluntarily, they ambushed us,” replied Reel.
Robie added, “Dolph had Luke Miller beheaded. And we saw him kill Holly Malloy right in front of us.”
Sanders’s jaw dropped. “Shit. You witnessed this?”