The Edge

entire clip in a matter of seconds. I knew I wasn't mistaken- there was a shout of pain. Sherlock or Savich had hit one of them. How many were there?

    There was silence now. Even the seagulls were quiet. Laura began to squirm away. "No," I said, grabbing her shoulder. "Don't move, not yet. Wait a few more minutes."

    I yelled, "Savich, did you get through?" He yelled back, "The cops should be here in three minutes, no more." But there was something about his voice I didn't like, something that didn't sound right.

    "Those guys must have thought they'd died and gone to heaven when you and I came trooping out here."

    I looked up at the sky. We had another fifteen minutes of daylight. Laura and I had three rocks for cover. A piece of cake.

    She twisted about to get more comfortable, lying fully beneath me now, and said, "How many are there?"

    "I don't know. At least three. Two of them may be hit. Now we wait for Sherlock and Savich. It shouldn't be long."

    We waited stiff and silent for two more minutes. Laura spit out some more dirt. The door to the cottage opened. I heard Savich yell,

    "Come on in, Mac. Run!"

    We ran hunkered over, zigzagging over the ground as we'd been trained to do, Sherlock and Savich covering us. They fired off another clip each, fanning the area behind us. There were three or four stray shots that didn't come near us, several more that struck the cottage, then silence again.

    I literally threw Laura through the door, turned and fired as Sherlock and Savich eased back into the cottage. I slammed the door, crouched to the floor, and turned to see both women laughing.

    "Well done, you two," Laura said, her arms around Sherlock. "You really saved our hides."

    Well, I thought, staring at the women, everyone reacts differently to being shot at. I checked out the other narrow window that looked toward the cliffs. Nothing. I pulled the curtain tightly over the window. Savich nodded. "All clear from here." He was staring from his wife to Laura. Laura's face was dirty, her hair hanging in tangles. Sherlock was grinning at her like a loon.

    "You've got a clot of dirt in your ear," Sherlock said and picked it out.

    "So who did you call, Savich?" I said.

    He pulled the curtain back into place. "They cut the phone lines, Mac. It's just us in this little box of Cracker Jacks."

    "Damn," I said. "These guys are good." I got to my feet and went into the kitchen to check the back of the house. I brought the two beers left in the refrigerator back into the living room. I looked from Laura to Sherlock, knew there was no hope for it, and pulled a quarter out of my pocket. "Call it in the air, Sherlock," I said.

    So much for fairness. They started on the beers without the slightest guilt.

    "They've got balls," Savich said, looking up from cleaning his gun by the window. "They can't shoot worth a shit, but they're serious about this."

    "Please tell me our rental car has a cell phone, Dillon," Sherlock said.

    "I'd tell you so if it were true," Savich said.

    "This is very depressing," Sherlock said. "I wish I hadn't finished my beer off so fast."

    I checked the dead bolt again and shifted the chair more firmly beneath the knob. "When it's dark we've got to try to get out of here."

    "It's dark enough," Laura said. "We'll all go right now. Let's try to make it to your car, Mac. We can get the hell out of Dodge." I saw she was chewing on her bottom lip, looking toward Savich, who'd been silent. He said finally, "I agree. It's been nearly a half hour that we haven't heard a thing. If they wanted to kill us, they'd still be shooting. Yeah, why not try to get out of here?"

    I opened the front door very quietly. I waited, then eased outside, looking toward the cliffs, sweeping my SIG Sauer slowly around in a wide arc. There was a big moon floating over the water, but roiling dark tattered clouds kept sliding in front of it. The night was blessedly dark. I waited until the moon was covered, then ran low to the Taurus, Savich, Sherlock, and Laura on my heels.

    Both women were in, down on the floor of the backseat, Savich in the passenger seat as I turned the key in the ignition. Nothing. I tried again, then stopped. "Somebody disabled the car," I said.

    "They must have been very quiet about it," Savich said. "Let's get back inside. I'll cover you."

    No one tried to shoot us on our mad run back.

    Once the four of us were back inside the cottage, the front door closed and locked, Savich said, "This is