Friday, December 11, 2015

Latest from the Janitors, Asps, Other Books, and More Books - How 'bout Both (Other Books) - Helen target of terrorist plot.



Today’s excerpt is from How ‘bout Both, Book #3 of the Bader Trilogy.  Terrorists try to kill Helen.  Enjoy and have a wonderful day.

m.j.

 

While those cars were on their way, Helen was on her way back to her station, with Walt driving.  She briefly told him she had had a nice chat with Ruth, who she now had even more respect for, but didn’t go into detail about the conversation.  She really liked Walt a lot and didn’t want to hurt his feelings with the subject of her feelings for Elmer being brought up.  

As they approached the station, the car with the bomb-laden woman was parked across the street from the station, half a block down.  It was the normal routine for Walt to let Helen out, then watch her go inside, before finding a parking spot.  He preferred to park in front of the station, rather than the rear parking area because the rear lot offered too many prime locations for a sniper to make a try on Helen.  The front of the building offered much less in the way of sniper sites.  Also, there always seemed to be plenty of parking available.  So it was this time because, even as he stopped in front of the station to let Helen out, he noticed a car was just pulling out of the first space available, down from a three-space no parking area in front of the station. 

That was not all he noticed.  When Helen started to get out, Walt touched her arm.  “Honey, head straight on in—then get away from the door.  Make sure no one else is anywhere near it.  We may be about to have an incident.  Now, hurry along.”

Helen gave him a funny look as she wondered why she was not being offered the normal kiss he gave her when she got out of the car…but did as told.  Even as the car door shut, the young woman, who had been told the woman getting out of the car could help her if she hurried and got to her before she got inside, got out of the car.  She hurried toward the front entrance as Helen was doing so from a much shorter distance. 

The woman had been told Helen’s name.  On seeing she wouldn’t get there in time to be rescued by the woman she had been told was her only hope of getting away, she yelled out, “Mez Blsoe, Mez Blsoe—help.”

By then Walt was already easing his car forward.  He recognized the situation for what it was.  He had seen enough suicide vests in Iraq to know what he was looking at as the serape-covered woman—whose upper body was much too stout for her lower half—hurried toward Helen.  When Walt slammed on the brakes, put his car in park, then got out, he glanced at Helen, who had stopped.  He shouted, “Helen—get the hell inside!  Get away from the doorway!”

He turned and pulled his weapon before he shot the woman in her leg.  As he dove for cover behind the car in front of him, placing himself between it and his car, he snapped off two shots in the direction of the car the downed woman had gotten out of.  His aim was nearly perfect as he hit the driver—who was in the process of pulling the car out—square in the forehead.  He hit the other man in the side of the face, even as he depressed the button, setting off the vest. 

Being totally unfamiliar with the vests, the last thing the driver should have been doing was pulling the car out, until after the blast.  A good portion of the blast hit the car.  It stopped dead in the middle of the street, with two nails and a ball bearing from the vest hitting the man who was still alive, but now unconscious from Walt’s shot.  None of the three projectiles killed him, but all did additional damage to his face.

Meanwhile, Walt was hit in the back of his legs and in his back by several of the nails and ball bearings.  The woman was, of course, killed instantly.  Several people outside storefronts nearby were injured to various degrees but none killed.  Helen, who had done as told, managed to avoid being injured in any way, even though the front doors of the station were shredded. 

After the noise of the blast subsided, she walked through where the doors had once been, to look out.  She saw Walt trying to stand up.  She shouted back inside for someone to call the police and 911 to get an ambulance on the way.  Then she hurried to Walt and, as he sat on the ground, she kissed him.  “How bad are you hurt?”

“Bad enough.  What in the hell are you doing out here?”

“It’s over.  No one is headed this way—everyone is running away.”

Still between the two cars, Walt nodded, “What about the car down about forty feet, just pulling out onto the street?”

“It’s just sitting there.  Looks like both guys in it are dead.  The police and ambulances should be on the way.”

Walt smile.  “Then what are you doing here?  Go be a reporter lady.”

Helen burst out laughing.  “Not this time.  I’m with you until you get hauled away.  We’ve got other reporters.”

“Like hell.  Show your face on screen to let the son-of-a-bitch know he missed again.”

“You sure?”

“Hell, yes.  I’ll be okay—nothing a bit of tender loving care won’t cure.”

“You’ll get plenty of that, pal.”

 

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