Hart was about to explain his plan when the roar of a truck engine and the sound of tires on the asphalt interrupted him.

"What the hell?"

"They're leaving." Deborah said.

"And in a hurry. Something must have happened."

"Well what's your plan, detective?" Gordon said, regretting his tone of voice immediately. "Sorry."

"We check the house and the marina. See if they left anything we can use and whether they found the boat. You and Deb check the marina, Verna and I will do the house."

Fifteen minutes later they met outside the house. Hart and Verna had rifles and several magazines, which they divvied up.

"We don't know how to use these things." Gordon said.

"Don't sweat it. The safeties are on and they are set for three bursts with one pull of the trigger. All you have to do is look like you know how. If we come across anyone, I'll do the shooting."

"My hero."

"Verna, this is serious so let's be serious, okay?"

"We're supposed to keep a humorous frame of mind, remember?"

He was about to object when the green tint flashed and his tongue curled up inside his mouth.

"The boat is back. I guess it was a priority for them." Gordon said.

"Yeah, that and the plane."

"Should we get going, wherever that is we are going to?" Deborah huffed.

"The main villa," Hart burbled and trotted off at a crouch.

"Is he always like this," Deborah asked.

"He has his moments," Verna chuckled, chasing after him.

****

Hart stumbled to a stop when the figure stepped out in front of him, gun raised.

"Is that you, Hart?"

"Jessica?"

"Where's your team?" As she asked, the other three came panting up behind him.

"They left the house in the truck in one mad hurry." He reported.

"Same at the airport. We've been watching the villa and they have deployed around the perimeter."

"Are there many?" Verna asked, shifting her rifle and causing a few of them to duck away.

"Depends on how we look at it." Jeff said. "They split up into smaller groups."

Jessica noticed the walkies. "Are they from the house?"

Hart nodded.

"Let's see who answers." She took one and keyed the talk switch.

****

"We are currently in a bit of a standoff," Gretta responded with surprise to Jessica's call. "Might be a good idea to seek cover, the phones are all open."

Immediately, Jessica clicked off and beckoned the group closer, while she explained what she heard and what they had to do.

"This time I think we will be safer in numbers, but we need to move quickly and quietly."

"Move where?" Gordon asked.

"To the nearest villa. They don't know where we are. We can set up a defence plan from there."

"Where's Parker?" Hart asked.

"He's watching the pilot at the airstrip. We caught him when the others left."

"So we have the plane?"

"At the moment. It won't do us any good unless we can get the others there too."

There was a muttered agreement followed by a huddled rush to the closest villa.

"This is ours," Deborah said when they all slipped inside, and adjusted to the dark.

"Okay, we know exactly where we are in relation to the main house then." Jessica quickly found the camera and covered the lens. "Keep the talk to a minimum and low whispers." She pointed to the camera.

"I think we should take inventory," Gordon whispered softly.

"Where's Miller when we need him." Hart spoke rhetorically.

"We have five rifles and extra magazines among us. Anything else?"

"I have a taser and a personal carry, OTF knife."

"Jess, you're talking to civilians here." Jeff reminded her.

"Out the front – a spring-loaded blade that comes straight out the front."

"Not department issue then." Hart whispered.

"Correct."

Verna moved closer to the group. "Someone's coming across the lawn. I saw some movement against the sky."

Her words were cut off by the exploding sounds of automatic gunfire and the inside of the villa became a shower of splintering glass and plaster.

"Down! Get down!"

Jessica pulled the closest person to her down to the floor and began a continuous burst of fire back through the open end of the villa. Hart was on his stomach behind a lounge chair, raking the same area, and they were rewarded with alarmed shouts from the shadows outside.

"Shoot over toward the left," Hart called to Jeff, as he fiddled getting a fresh magazine into his rifle.

Des rubbed her hip where she banged it on the tile floor when Jessica hauled her down, and she gratefully clasped Deb's arm when the woman hugged her close to the bed. Jessica slammed a new magazine into her gun then paused when Jeff never responded to Hart.

"Jeff? Jeff, you alright?"

"I think I was hit . . ." Another shower of plaster and glass drowned out his words, and Jessica duck-walked quickly to where he lay by the bar fridge.

"Where?" She leaned closer, peering at the blood running down his face.

"I don't know, my head I think, but my side hurts too."

Hart wriggled backward toward the bed, loosing off short bursts.

"A little help folks."

"Jeff's been hit."

"Shit! Bad?"

"Can't see well enough to tell."

"They've stopped shooting," Verna said, and the team lay quiet, listening.

"I'll crawl out and take a look." Hart started forward again.

"Hart!"

"I'll be fine, Vern, you help with Jeff. Deb, think you could cover me and not shoot me in the- my back?"

"I may anyway." She crawled up behind him and squatted in the corner by the door, straining her eyes into the dark as Hart melted into the shadows on the lawn.

"It's a crease on the side of his head. A little antiseptic and a bandage will take care of that." Jessica said, pulling a liquor bottle from the small fridge.

"What about his side? Where does your side hurt, Jeff?" Verna tried to keep her mind off Hart, out in the dark.

"It's right about . . . oh . . ." he sounded sorry.

"What?"

"I landed on an ammo magazine and it dug in under the ribs."

"So you wounded yourself." Jessica chuckled as she dabbed the side of his head with the liquor.

"Seems so- ssssst! Crap, that stings!"

"Took your mind off your rib though." She wound her neckerchief around his head and tied it in a knot. "That'll do for now. Ready to rock and roll, big fella?"

Hart walked back inside, moving the muzzle of Deb's gun away from him as he did.

"They're gone. Well, not all of them. Seems our marksmanship took out two of them." He laid two more rifles on the chair. "Our arsenal's growing. "How's Jeff?"

"Creased his head, but he's okay . . . luckily"

"Now what?" Verna asked, she touched Hart's arm, for assurance it seemed, and he pecked her cheek.

"Where's Gordon?"

Deborah looked up in alarm. "Gordon!"

"Over there – his legs!" Verna gasped.

"Gordon!" Deborah rushed over and pulled the debris from off of him, and shook him. "Gordon, wake up!"

Jessica eased her away and checked Gordon's pulse. "He's alive anyway."