THE EVERETT INTERPRETATION

CHAPTER 10

Ellie followed the hedgerow, her reflexes on high alert. She moved soundlessly, stopping every few steps to listen, making sure there was no chance of anyone sensing her approach. The hedge ended in a wreck of a wooden fence, a rusty gate set into it which opened to the city-owned hillside behind the house. She tested the gate and it groaned on ancient hinges. She tensed involuntarily, pausing for someone to raise the alarm. When none came, she cracked the gate just wide enough, allowing her to squeeze through the opening.

Next to the gate, on the other side of the tangled hedge, stood an identical gate, leading into the DeWitt yard. This gate was set into a six-foot high wooden fence encircling the yard. Both were new or, at least, better maintained. Ellie couldn’t see through it or over it, even standing on her toes. A thick layer of loam, crunching underfoot, prevented her from moving laterally along the fence. Squatting on her haunches, hopefully out of the sightline of a backyard observer, Ellie took a deep breath and reached for the gate handle. It was unlocked, silently swinging open on well-oiled hinges.

The yard lay cold and empty beneath the moonlit sky. The back door was situated about the middle of the house. On the right, straight back from the now open gate, the dark window to the master bedroom stared sightlessly out at her. The drapes were drawn. There didn’t appear to be anyone watching.

Closing the gate behind her, Ellie followed the hedge. Hoping she would blend in, despite the light of the full moon tracking her, Ellie made her way to the back of the house. Squatting again, she duckwalked past the bedroom window, keeping a low profile. Beyond the window, she straightened, pressing her back flat against the side of the house. Gripping the doorknob, it turned easily in her sweaty palm. The door swung open a crack and Ellie listened intently. Good! No alarms! She pushed the door wider, peering down an empty hallway. Muffled voices came from the front room.

She tried to remember the layout of the house from two weeks ago. Just down the hall a couple of feet, the door on her right opened to the infamous master bedroom. Another door, closer to the far end of the hall and on the left, opened to an office. Both doors stood open, the rooms dark and, presumedly, empty. Everyone seemed to be gathered in the front room, at the end of the short hallway.

She pictured it in her mind. To her left, as she entered that room, would be the kitchenette, a prep counter separating the kitchenette, a couple of high swivel chairs on the other side of that, the front door almost exactly opposite the counter. The entertainment center would be on the right; a flat screen TV, stereo equipment, a recliner, a small sofa, a coffee table. How much of that DeWitt had salvaged was anybody’s guess.

Okay, she had the layout in her mind’s eye. Ignoring Brad’s voice, screaming inside her head, she stepped inside. Her service revolver was gripped tightly in both hands, pointed in the low ready position. That was toward the ground at approximately a forty-five-degree angle, just like they taught at the academy.

She gently eased the back door shut behind her. She would have preferred to leave it open, but an unexpected gust of wind could easily spell disaster. She checked the master bedroom, just in case. Empty! Even in the dim light, Ellie could see it had been trashed. She turned toward the sound of a woman’s voice. From the sound, she was in the front room, to the left, near the kitchenette. Probably close to the front door.

“Let’s try this again,” the woman was saying. “We know you have the register. So where exactly is it?” There was a malevolent calmness in that voice. A matter-of-factness that said, “You will answer these questions under penalty of death. I’m not fucking around here.”

The woman’s voice sounded younger than Ellie would have expected. Someone about her age. There was also something about the voice that bothered Ellie immediately. Not so much the sound, although that was vaguely familiar. It was more the cadence. The woman spoke with a certain rhythm that Ellie felt in her own head. Ellie somehow knew that voice.

“I told you. You’re wasting your time. It’s not here.” DeWitt! His disembodied voice drifting in from the right, near the entertainment center. His voice sounded thick, his speech slightly slurred.

“We know it’s not here.” The woman sounded exasperated. “Our latest search of your bedroom proved that much. But if it’s not here… then where?”

“Yeah, and soon as I tell you, I’m so much dead meat. Right now, you need me alive.”

“Firstly, that’s not quite true. Apparently, Dr. Davis has had a breakthrough. So, you see, we don’t really need you alive. Your cooperation just makes our task mmmmm, less difficult. Secondly, you are alive, because Colonel Kurtz wants you alive. Personally, I think he just wants the honors. Sort of a pay back.”

Okay, DeWitt was on the right side of the room, his interrogator on the left. Ellie stepped across the narrow hall, placing her back to the wall on the left side of the passage. She stopped next to the dark, open doorway to the office and peeked inside. Empty!

She moved to the other side of the empty hole, about three quarters of the way down the hall. She still had only a narrow view of the living room. She couldn’t see DeWitt; much less be sure if there was someone on that side of the room with him. All she could really see was the plate glass window looking out onto the porch. The room was well lit, making it difficult to see past the large picture window. She couldn’t even make out the oak tree she knew stood in the middle of the front yard.

Then she saw Brad. His face in the lower left corner of the window, peering in. Making eye contact with her! In the same instant she spotted Brad, she realized her tactical error. The room was ablaze with light. She saw Brad because his face was pressed up against the window. Otherwise, the window was a mirror, reflecting everything in the room. She saw her twin, standing in the hallway, reflected in the window. Oh shit!

Taking two quick steps backward, Ellie rounded the doorway, backing into the dark office. Thankfully, not bumping into anything in the process. That was close. Had anyone seen her reflection, it would have been game over.

Stealing a glance from the doorway, she spotted Brad. Nodding her head, she acknowledged she had seen him. Pointing at her, he placed his thumb and index finger together forming a circle. She was okay. They hadn’t spotted her. He pointed two fingers at his eyes. Then pointed the fingers in the general direction of the kitchenette. He then continued to point in that direction with just one finger. Next, he held two fingers up like he was making a peace sign. Okay, there were two of them, both on her left. She nodded, indicating she understood. Ellie had just begun to step back into the darkened office when all hell broke loose.

The minute he saw her, Brad knew Ellie had made a crucial mistake. With all the lights in the house turned on, the plate glass window became a huge mirror. At any second, they would spot her reflection. Then it was all but done. He had to act quickly. From what he had been able to tell, nobody was watching the front door. He hoped he was right.

Taking large strides, he made the dozen paces to the front porch, in only ten. Covertly making his way up the two wooden porch steps, he crossed the porch, stopping at the section of wall that lay between the front door and the window. He completed the entire maneuver in only four or five seconds. No sounds of alarm. He hadn’t been observed. Squatting low, he peeked through the window, making instant eye contact with Ellie. She must have realized her mistake. Before he could even warn her off, she backed out of sight, through the doorway into the room DeWitt used as an office. ‘Good girl,’ thought Brad.

He took a glance around the room. DeWitt had been bound to one of the high bar stools that had sat at the kitchenette service counter. They had used duct tape to secure him. Good old duct tape! One product but a million-and-one uses.

Brad heard a woman’s voice but couldn’t make her out; she must be right on the other side of the wall from him. He had a better look at the big guy. Her muscle was just that. The guy was probably six-three or six-four, pushing three hundred pounds of butt-ugly. He was bald. He had some kind of tattoo on his shaved skull. He also had tattoos up and down his arms, which were currently crossed across his barrel chest. A very large handgun lay before him on the service counter.

Ellie’s narrow, oval face appeared from around the office doorway. She nodded in his direction. Good, she had seen him. He made a couple of hand gestures to let her know what she was up against. She seemed to understand. Her face began to fade back into the open doorway when all hell broke loose.

Ellie still held her revolver in both hands in the low ready position. She had barely backed into the office when she heard the unmistakable shwoosh of a toilet flushing. It took her half a second too long to register what was happening. There was a closed door directly opposite the office door. She had thought it was a closet. Even as she realized her mistake, the door opened inwardly and a very large man stepped into the hall.

Stepping out of the bathroom, the man’s eyes locked with Ellie’s. From the moment their eyes met, everything took on a surreal otherworldliness. It was as if she were watching the events of the next ninety seconds play out in slow motion, in some dark theater of the mind.

The man was large, heavily muscled. A narrow, black goatee beard was his only facial hair. A tattoo sat high up on his forehead, covering much of his bald skull. Ellie only glimpsed the tattoo, quickly recognizing it as the German iron cross. He also had several tattoos on his arms. The guy stood less than three feet from her, too close for her to raise her weapon and get off a shot.

She did the next best thing. Stepping forward into the man, she brought her knee up sharply into his groin. At precisely the same instant, the man charged into her, driving her backwards into the door jam, knocking the wind out of her. Even as all the air was being forced from her lungs, Ellie instinctively brought her heavy revolver down across the back of his skull. The impact made a muffled, but reassuring thud. The weapon discharged as she did this.

The man was built like a granite statue. Ellie doubted the knee to the groin, or the accompanying blow to the head, by themselves, would have slowed him down. But, between the two of them, the man dropped heavily to his knees. But he was only incapacitated for a second.

Gasping, he stumbled back to his feet, giving Ellie a hard shove. Running into the living room, he yelled, “It’s the cops.”

Even as she slipped to the floor, Ellie swung her revolver around, getting off a second, wild shot into the drywall just above the man’s shoulder as he disappeared. As all of this was happening, she heard the front door slam heavily open with a dull thud, followed by a muffled groan. Definitely female! The woman must have been standing in front of the door as Brad charged through.

She heard Brads’ familiar voice of authority, “Freeze and drop your weapons! This is the police.”

Brad watched the second goon charge out of the bathroom when he saw Ellie. A bookend to the man in the small kitchenette, he was tall, heavily built, thickly muscled, bald, and tattooed; the single difference being a black goatee beard covering some of the ugly. Despite the goon’s size, Brad watched Ellie knee the man, then bring her revolver down on his head as he doubled over, knocking him to the floor. Yeah, the girl could take care of herself.

Brad reacted quickly, and as he did so, everything seemed to speed up. Throwing his weight onto the already slightly ajar front door, he burst through into the alcove, knocking someone down in the process. Stepping into the living room, his service revolver drawn, Brad ordered the two goons to freeze. The man standing behind the counter reached for his weapon. Brad fired once, catching the guy in the right shoulder. The guy grunted, stumbling backward into the kitchen counter, dropping his weapon. Meanwhile, the other goon charged out of the hall, howling about the police.

Either by accident, in his haste to get away, or by design, the goon ran into Brad, knocking him off balance. He dropped his service revolver as he was flung backwards into the wall with the impact. Brad grabbed the man by the shoulders, head-butting him, momentarily stunning the guy. Brad scrambled across the floor, to where his revolver lay.

Brad reached for his weapon, glancing down the hall as he did so. Everything seemed to freeze for a split second. The guy with the goatee must have knocked Ellie down. She was just getting to her feet. She seemed unsteady, but unhurt. He flashed a quick smile at her, letting her know he was glad she was okay.

He turned his attention back to the two goons. Goatee was already out the door, running for his life. The other goon had picked up his weapon as he hurried around the service counter, trailing blood.

Brad was already turning his weapon towards the wounded man when something caused him to hesitate. The third person in the room had indeed been a woman. Brad had knocked her to the floor as he burst into the house. She was picking herself up.

Ellie was regaining her feet, bracing herself against the wall while sucking in air, as Brad stepped into view. Ellie knew Brad had always tried to give her due as an equal partner, but he still tended to be overprotective. He glanced at her, flashed a quick, reassuring smile, then turned back to face the two men. He stopped! He hesitated! He started to say something! Whatever he said, it was inaudible. Ellie couldn’t make it out.

The woman was on her feet, facing Brad. His brow furrowed as if he didn’t quite believe what he was seeing. He appeared confused. Not from fear, but from recognition. He blinked, trying to refocus his eyes.

He managed to say, “What the…,” when he abruptly heard two loud explosions. And then he heard nothing at all.

What Ellie heard next was unmistakable. It was the thunder of two back-to-back gun shots. BANG! BANG! Brad was standing in profile to her. A spray of blood burst from the other side of his face, just before Brad crumpled to the floor. As Ellie ran to where Brad had fallen, a second man came into view, rounding the service counter out of the kitchenette. A twin to the first man, minus the beard, his right shoulder was oozing a bright red liquid. Stopping a few paces before the front door, he raised his weapon, presumably at DeWitt.

“No! Sampson said he lives!” The order came from that somehow familiar female voice. Its owner had moved onto the porch, out of Ellie’s line of sight.

“Move! We can finish this later!”

The man lowered his weapon. Disregarding his instructions to use code names, he screamed, “That asshole Langford. Sampson is going to kill him for this!”

The man was enraged, spittle flying from his mouth as he cursed someone named Langford. “Some lookout! He musta been sleeping at the switch. When Samson gets his hands on him, I wanna watch!”

Then the man looked at Ellie. It was as if he had just realized she was kneeling there, cradling Brad’s lifeless form. He paused, something like recognition on his ugly face. Smiling, a large gold tooth was revealed in the center of his upper jaw. “Now, isn’t this interesting!” he exclaimed.

The woman, apparently still on the porch, shouted “Don’t just stand there, idiot. We need to get the fuck out of here. I hear sirens.”

Realization finally overcame the shock of what had just happened. Blinking back sudden tears, Ellie shouted “Nooooooooooo!”