Page 56 of So Lethal

The machine whined as it powered up. It’s targeting software identified the dummies by their transponders. This had been programmed prior to testing to ensure the machine would actually identify them as targets and not dismiss them as inanimate objects.

The machine focused on them and offered David a five-second window to abort the command.

David didn’t abort the command. He watched the numbers count down, and when they hit zero, he grinned at the mannequins.

“David!” Jeremy shrieked. “Abort! Abort now!”

David frowned down at the screen. The temperature was no longer slightly elevated. It was a lot elevated. He swore and reached for the stop button.

Then his head exploded.

***

The killer stared at the medals displayed in a glass-covered teak case above his dresser. A Purple Heart. A unit citation. A Meritorious Service award. A few other doodads which were given to everyone who didn’t die or piss off the unit CO.

The one he fixated on was the Distinguished Service Medal. Officially, he earned it for sacrificing his health to advance the science of warfare. Unofficially, the Army gave it to him so he wouldn’t sue them.

Not that the killer planned to sue the Army. Of course, they weren't blameless, but it wasn't his place to administer judgment. That was for God. His job was to fulfill his penance by suffering from soundlessness while liberating those afflicted with it through no fault of their own.

The enemy had nearly stopped him. It was his fault. He had wanted the world to understand that he was liberating the people he killed, not murdering them. That was only his pride. God had warned him of that by sending the woman and her dog so he would understand that by focusing on his pride, he would only earn more judgment.

Now, he would suffer more. It was only a matter of time before the FBI found out who he was, and when they did, they would come looking for him here. He needed to hide.

The killer looked around his house. He wouldn’t miss it terribly. It was, after all, only a place to rest. One skill he had retained from the army was the ability to rest anywhere.

He knew where he would rest. It was fitting that he should return to the place where God first showed Himself. The FBI wouldn't follow him there. They didn't know where it was. No one knew where it was except for Jeremy and Steward. Steward would die before betraying the Army, and Jeremy was probably close to death himself, considering how serious his drinking habit became after the accident.

It would be a reminder of his purpose and a reminder to let go of his pride.

The killer left the medals. They were symbols of pride as well, even if they were obviously false symbols. He didn’t need them.

He picked up his sleeping bag, his suitcase—which contained clothing and basic necessities and nothing else—and his amplifier. Thank God he’d made a spare.

The only other things he needed were already in the car. The laptop contained the files on its hard drive. The tourniquet was still the best way to liberate people without risking their escape.

He had hoped to liberate someone else tonight, but plans had changed. He needed to flee before the FBI prevented him from continuing his work.

He loaded the suitcase, sleeping bag, and amplifier into the back of his SUV. He got in the driver’s seat and started the engine. The old gas motor rumbled comfortingly, the vibrations traveling through the seat up his spine and through the floor into his legs. He took a moment to savor those sensations, then put the SUV in gear and left the home in which he had lived for the past fourteen years.

He didn’t look back.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

The FBI agents arrived at David Harrison's house just as Ferris and his PD units did. Michael parked their rental behind the cruisers, so the police vehicles formed a barricade. Then, the three of them rushed across the street to join Ferris.

The detective was issuing commands to his officers when they reached him. “Cooper, take four out back and put two men on either side. I’ll go through the front with the FBI agents.” He nodded at Faith. “All right, Special Agent. This is your collar. We’ll follow your lead.”

Right after giving all of the orders, Faith thought wryly. Ferris meant well, though, and Faith would have issued similar instructions anyway.

“Be alert,” she told the gathered officers. “Harrison has combat experience, and he’s believed to be armed and dangerous. No one does anything stupid trying to be the hero of the day, got it?” The officers voiced their acknowledgment, and Faith said, “Okay. Cooper, once you’re in position, let us know. We’ll try knocking. He’s deaf, but he should still feel the vibrations. We’ll give him one chance, then we’re going in. Let’s move out.”

The group split. The SJPD officers looked professional and determined. Most importantly, they looked steady. Self-control and unit cohesion were the two most critical components of arrests like this one, and Ferris’s officers had both.

Faith positioned herself to the left of the door. Michael stood to the right with Ferris off of the porch steps to the right as well. Turk stood in front of the door, eyes focused, tail switching, muscles coiled like springs.

“Okay, agent,” Cooper said. “We’re ready.”

“Copy that.” She pounded her fist on the door. For the benefit of anyone in the vicinity who might not know what was going on, she also shouted, “David Harrison! This is the police! Open the door now!”

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