Chapter Twelve

Reynolds Egg Ranch is two hundred acres of desert covered with long metal hen houses. Each house is fifty feet wide and six hundred feet long. A ten-foot chain link fence surrounds the property.

Dante frowned as he turned onto the dirt road that led to the ranch. "Where is that ammonia stench coming from?"

"You're smelling the chicken shit," I replied.

"I don't see any chickens."

I smothered a laugh. "They're in the hen houses."

"I thought this operation was cage-free."

"It is. The chickens are free to roam inside the lay houses," I replied.

Dante examined the setup. "They never go outside?"

"Nope. The coyotes or hawks would get them."

"How many chickens are in each house?"

"Twenty thousand."

"The chicken poop must be knee-deep," Dante commented.

Julie laughed. "His workers use a Bob cat and pressure washer to clean the hen houses. When they're all done, they suck up the shit with what looks like fire hoses."

"And what happens to all the waste after that?"

"Grandpa turns it into fertilizer," I answered.

Dante shook his head in disbelief. "No self-respecting, former CIA agent would be caught dead mucking out hen houses."

"It's a great cover and the egg ranch brings in five million a year."

Swerving around a huge pothole, Dante asked, "And how much does he make from his side jobs?"

"A bit more than that."

"Your entire family is nuts," Dante stated.

I leaned over and kissed his cheek. "And you fit in so well."

"Damn, I do, don't I?" He pointed at a battered, single-wide mobile home. "Is that the office?"

"It is."

Dante parked his Camaro. "God, this place stinks."

"The heat makes it worse," Julie groused.

The whomp-whomp of helicopter blades had me looking up. Mom's Huey was heading our way.

Sergeant Bergman parked his patrol car and got out. "You think your grandfather can get you in to see Nargi?"

"I hope so." I climbed the rickety stairs and went inside the trailer. "Grandpa, it's me."

"Come on down," a deep-timbered voice instructed.

Dante surveyed the crummy office with its eight file cabinets lining one wall and an ancient fan blowing hot air around.

I walked over to the battered desk and pushed a button. The floor slid back to reveal a staircase. "I've brought company."

"I can see that."

The stairs led to a high-tech office equipped with all the goodies Dad had in the command center.

"Your father and grandfather have a lot in common," Dante commented.

"Like hell we do!"

I rolled my eyes. You'd think after thirty years Dad and Grandpa would have learned to get along, but nope, it was like the Hatfield's and McCoy's. You never knew when war was going to break out.

Grandpa Reynolds was five-foot-ten. He had a full head of silver hair and cold gray eyes. His unassuming demeanor hid the trained killer he really was. His gaze swept over Sergeant Bergman and Julie before it fixed on Dante.

Dante and Grandpa did the macho stare-down.

I stepped in between them. "Dante this is my grandfather Matthew Reynolds. Grandpa this is Detective Sergeant Dante Delgado, the love of my life."

"If you hurt her, I'll gut ya," Grandpa spat.

And he meant it. "Manners, Grandpa."

"I would give my life to keep Gemma safe," Dante stated.

"Why does everyone keep ignoring the fact that I can take care of myself?"

Grandpa hugged me. "I know you can, sweetheart, but there are a lot of bad hombres out there."

"Tell me about it," Julie muttered, keeping her distance.

Grandpa made Julie nervous. "What do you know about Soleimani al-Haq aka Chet Nargi?" I asked.

On the wall monitor a picture of a badly scarred Iraqi male wearing a black turban and robes appeared. "That is Soleimani's father, Aabbas. He was a warlord during the Gulf War, and he had his son beheading people and planting roadside bombs by the time he was thirteen."

Curiosity got the better of me. "What happened to Aabbas?"

"When Soleimani turned twenty-one he killed his father and took over the tribe."

Sergeant Bergman said grimly, "Blood will tell.

"Yes, it will," Dante agreed, keeping a close eye on Grandpa.

Mom hurried down the staircase. "What did I miss?"

"I'm just getting ready to play the tape of Soleimani breaking Ichabod out of the state prison." Grandpa hit a button on the computer, and we watched as four separate explosions rocked the prison. The alarms wailing, Soleimani methodically took out the guards. Retrieving the keys from a dead guard, he opened the outer door and tossed in a stun grenade.

"They cut the phone lines and used a cell phone jammer to keep them from calling for help," Grandpa said.

Dante interjected, "The prison would have immediately gone into lockdown. The keys Soleimani took would no longer work. He had to have an inside man."

"He did. The warden." Grandpa tapped another button. A heavy-set older man, who was sweating profusely, dragged a handcuffed Ichabod up to Soleimani.

Ichabod took one look at him and freaked. "No, you can't. He'll kill me. He'll kill me."

Soleimani dropped Ichabod with one punch.

Well, that answered one question. Ichabod knew who Soleimani was and what he wanted. The alarms were so loud I couldn't hear what the warden said, but whatever it was, it pissed Soleimani off, and he shot the warden in the chest.

Grandpa stopped the tape. "Your friend Bowman hushed up the attack on the prison."

"Gee, there's a surprise," Julie said.

My anxiety level shot through the roof. "Do you have any idea where they took Ichabod?"

"Bowman has an RV, and I know they used it to transport Ichabod, but I can't locate it," Grandpa said.

"Shit! I need to know if that little creep is alive or dead."

Mom handed me a candy bar. "Eat some chocolate, sweetie. It'll calm you down."

"It's gonna take more than chocolate." I tore the wrapper off and practically inhaled it.

Dante rubbed my shoulders. "We'll find him."

"Can you get me into the federal prison, Grandpa? I know I can get Soleimani to talk."

"Maybe. Soleimani is married to a Saudi lawyer by the name of Dabir Salik." Grandpa tapped the keyboard. A photo of a petite woman who was almost a dead ringer for me appeared on the screen.

My jaw dropped. "Oh, my God!"

"You have something you want to tell me, Pops?" Anger darkened Mom's eyes.

Grandpa grimaced. "That's Jimmy's kid, not mine."

I scowled. More family secrets. Uncle Jimmy had been dead for twenty years and no one had ever mentioned I had a Saudi cousin.

Her tone one of amazement, Julie said, "Except for her height, eye and hair color, Gemma could be her doppelganger."

"Well, that does explain why Nargi came onto me," I muttered.

Dante growled in my ear. "He did what?"

"Soleimani wanted to show Gemma a good time," Julie responded.

I snorted. "After he threw me down the side of the freeway, not a chance."

An alarm began to beep.

"Are you expecting company, Grandpa?"

Grandpa punched a button on the control console. An old, pink and white VW van appeared on the monitor. It sped down the road, kicking up a cloud of dust. Grandpa let loose with a string of curses.

I grabbed the mouse and zoomed in on the driver. At the wheel was an elderly woman with bright pink hair. "Is that your girlfriend Grandpa?"

"No! That is Sadie Crawford, the president of the local PETA chapter. She's a royal pain in the ass."

The VW van pulled to a stop next to Dante's Camaro and a thin woman wearing a pink tie-dye dress got out.

I grinned. She was a throwback to the sixties with the miniskirt and white go-go boots.

Grandpa locked the trailer's front door, and keyed the speaker, "Go away, I don't have time for your foolishness today."

"Are the cops here to arrest you?"

"No, I'm filing a report on you," Grandpa shot back.

Sadie gave him a one-finger salute.

Sergeant Bergman let out a laugh. "Feisty old gal."

"You have no idea," Grandpa groused.

Planting her hands on her hips, Sadie yelled, "Come out and talk to me, or are you too scared, you worthless chicken killer."

The alarm began to beep again.

I glanced at the screen. Three white box vans were roaring down the road. "You've got visitors Grandpa."

"Are those friends of the hippie?" Mom asked.

Dante scowled. "No. That's Dabir Salik in the front seat of the lead vehicle."

"Shit! They must think Grandpa has Gilgamesh's Tablet."

Julie pulled her Glock. "They want to play, let's play."

"I'll notify your father," Mom said.

Grandpa swiped his hand over a sensor pad and the wall slid back to reveal an armory that was a mercenary's wet dream. "There's enough body armor and sniper rifles for everyone."

Dante, Julie and I each grabbed a rifle and a vest.

"Your father is bringing the cavalry," Mom said taking a sniper rifle.

Grandpa made a rude noise.

Sergeant Bergman picked up a double-barreled shotgun. "I sent Sheriff Maxwell a text. They're working an active shooter at Lucky's grocery store in Buckeye, and basically, we're on our own."

"What else is new." I glanced at the monitors. Sadie was banging on the door. "Come out you old geezer and talk to me."

"Oh, hell." Grandpa bolted up the steps.

Sadie let out a yelp. "Let go of me! What do you think you're doing?"

"Saving your life." Grandpa dragged her down the stairs.

"From what?" Sadie's eyes widened when she saw all of us. "Who are you? What's going on?"

Mom smiled at her. "We're the old geezer's family."

"You are?" Sadie's gaze roamed over the command center. "What is this place?"

Sergeant Bergman gave her a reassuring smile. "We have a bit of a situation."

"What kind of situation?"

I smiled at Sadie all-friendly like. "I'm Gemma and you might have seen us on the news."

"You do look familiar." The color drained from her face. "Oh, hell, the terrorist attack on the hospital."

Julie nodded. "That was us. Do you know how to shoot a gun?"

"I live in Arizona. What do you think?"

Dante gestured at the armory. "Pick a gun."

"Is this some kind of joke?"

I pointed at the monitor. "Does it look like we're joking?"

Sadie took one look at the armed mercenaries spilling from the vans and carefully picked up a shotgun. "I've never been in a shootout before."

"First time for everything." Grandpa placed his hand on a sensor pad and a door slid open. "I'm betting those assholes have never been in a shit storm before either."

"Shit storm?" Sadie parroted in dismay.

I rubbed my hands together. "This should be fun."

"Most women wouldn't consider a shootout with known terrorists as fun," Dante remarked.

I gave him a big smooch. "I'm not most women, my love, and you haven't lived until you've been in a shit storm."

"It's fun if you're wearing a bio-suit. If you aren't, do you have any idea how hard it is to get chicken shit out of your hair?" Julie griped.

A muscle twitched in Dante's jaw and his grip tightened on the sniper rifle. "No."

I smothered a grin. Dante was a clean freak. To him a shootout was preferable to getting hit with poop.

"They're coming," Sergeant Bergman warned.

"You wanted to see inside the hen houses, Sadie, now you get your chance." Grandpa dragged her down the tunnel that led to a metal door.

"Let go of me," Sadie protested.

Grandpa chuckled. "Not a chance."

I had a feeling my grandfather was enjoying this a little too much.

Grandpa opened the metal door and pointed to yellow bio-hazard suits hanging from metal hooks. "Everyone suits up and don't forget your masks."

Three sixty-inch monitors were fastened to the clean room's wall. Next to the decontamination shower were first aid kits, a defibrillator and a refrigerator full of cold drinks.

As I pulled on my suit, I watched the pissed-off terrorists shoot up Grandpa's trailer.

"That wasn't very smart of them," Julie commented.

Grandpa smiled evilly. "For as long as they live, they will never forget this day."

"If they shoot my car, they won't have to worry about tomorrow," Dante growled.

Sergeant Bergman added sardonically, "Once we're done with them, the last thing on their minds will be that tablet."

"We're all suited up, Pops," Mom advised.

Grandpa pulled his breathing mask on. "Gemma, Julie and lover boy take hen house two. It was just cleaned, and the tanks are full. You can show him what to do, Gemma."

"Yes, sir."

"Tess, you and the Sergeant can use hen house four. The tank's contents have been brewing for a couple of days."

Mom nodded. "How bad are the flies?"

"Bad," Grandpa answered.

Horror filled Sadie's eyes. "Flies?"

"Flies love chicken shit," I replied with a shudder. "These suits might be hotter than hell to wear, but the alternative is being swarmed by all sorts of nasty critters that try to crawl up your nose."

"Good to know," Sadie said faintly.

Grandpa glanced at the monitors. "Let's go, they're heading our way."

"The chutes will provide us with some cover," I told Dante and in a crouching run took off for the henhouse.

Dante and Julie were right behind me. Once we reached the tank of chicken waste, I grabbed a hose. "All you do is aim and pull back the handle. It shoots out about fifty gallons of shit a minute."

"Sounds easy enough," Dante said, his gaze locked on the approaching mercenaries.

Dabir stopped and yelled, "Put your hands up."

"No speaky English," Julie shouted back. "You speaky Spanish?"

Dabir scowled and shrieked, "Me. Shoot. You."

"Wrong answer. Let it rip," I said.

We turned on our hoses and blasted them. The force of the deluge knocked them on their asses.

The instant the mercenaries got to their feet, Grandpa and Sadie sprayed them again. Down they went, sliding across the ground like they were on a Slip 'N Slide.

Screaming in fury, Dabir fired her weapon and was rewarded with a torrent of shit right in the kisser. Globs of green chicken poo covered her face and hair.

"No one shoots at my family," Mom hollered.

A hand on her throat, Dabir leaned over and vomited the poop she had just swallowed. Did I feel sorry for her? Nope.

"I didn't think the smell could get any worse," Dante said in disgust.

I grimaced. "It can and probably will."

Any mercenary who tried to get up, Sergeant Bergman hit with a stream of chicken shit until they lay moaning in the slimy goop.

"Here come the flies," Julie announced.

A horde of flies descended on the hapless terrorists. They swatted wildly in a futile attempt to drive them away.

"Welcome to hell," Mom shouted.

Dragging my hose with me, I carefully walked closer to Dabir and tried to ignore the flies swarming over my suit. "Where is Ichabod Shufflebottom?"

"Your lover? He's dead. Like you will soon be." She yanked out a pistol and was hit with six streams of gross chicken waste. Curling into a fetal position, Dabir screamed something in Arabic.

I backed away from her. The smell and heat were getting to me too.

"Holy hell," Julie cried. "The Feds are here."

I watched in amusement as the ATF, FBI, and Homeland Security tactical teams ran up, took one look at Dabir and her mercenaries flopping around in pools of slimy chicken crap and retreated: swatting wildly at the swarm of flies engulfing them.

"Look at those wusses puking their guts out," Julie giggled.

Grandpa shut his hose off. "The terrorists are too sick to fight. It's time to disarm them."

With a groan, I started toward the mercenaries.

Dante stopped me. "Julie and you are still recovering from the bomb blast. Take Sadie and go back to the clean room. We'll handle this."

"You sure?"

"Yes, go."

I would have kissed him, but there was no way I could take off my mask. "My family can be a bit much, and most men would be running for their lives about now."

"Since the day I met you, my life has never been the same, and I don't regret anything we've done, except this. I'm never coming back to this hellhole."

Mom laughed and patted Dante's back. "Sweetie, we all avoid the egg ranch."

"You do?"

"God, yes. The smell alone is bad enough but when you add in the flies, it's the stuff of nightmares," Mom replied.

Grandpa hollered, "Get your ass over here, lover boy."

Muttering something in Spanish, Dante strolled over to Grandpa with his fists clenched.

"Uh, oh," Julie gasped.

Sergeant Bergman quickly stepped in front of Dante. "I've called the paramedics to check over the prisoners and since the Feds aren't in any shape to search them, it's up to us."

In the distance sirens sounded.

Nodding, Dante began retrieving the prisoners' weapons.

I looked around. "Where the hell did Sadie go?"

Julie shrugged. "Dunno."

"Where is the first place a PETA fruitcake would want to go?" Mom asked.

I threw my hands up in disgust. "To check on the poor mistreated chickens."

"Or Sadie's freeing the abused chickens as we speak." Julie pointed at henhouse ten. "The door is open."

Mom scowled. "The little fool probably thinks hens are cute, cuddly and harmless."

"Go. Be free. Live the way you were meant to," Sadie yelled.

I took off running. The bio-suit wouldn't protect Sadie for long and her great escape was going to be a bust.

The idiot was waving her arms wildly. "Fly away. Fly away. You're free now!"

Squawking loudly, the chickens fled deeper into the henhouse.

"Wait! Come back! You're free!" Two hens landed on her head and started pecking at her suit. "Hey! That hurts! Stop it!" Trying to knock the hens off her head, Sadie ran out the door. "Get them off. Get them off."

Mom grabbed the hens and threw them back inside.

Julie quickly closed the door. "These chickens aren't pets."

"They weren't meant to live their lives in a metal box." Sadie gestured at a hen who was pecking at the dirt. "Look how happy she is."

A hawk dove down, scooped up the startled chicken, and flew away.

"Oh, he saved her. Do you think they'll be mates?" Sadie asked, her gaze fixed on the sky.

Julie and I stared at her in disbelief.

"The hen is the hawk's dinner," Mom said dryly.

"Are you sure?"

I grabbed Sadie's arm. "I think you've had way too much excitement for today. Let's get you out of the sun."

"I am feeling a bit dizzy."

Julie took her other arm, and we escorted her back to the clean room. Once inside we stripped off our bio-suits and helped Sadie out of hers.

I frowned. Her face was beet red. I guided her over to a folding chair. "Sit down before you pass out."

"It's so hot." Sadie fanned herself.

Mom turned the floor fans on, handed out candy bars and bottles of cold water. "Your father and the boys are here, and they brought the fire department's hazmat unit like I asked."

I glanced at the monitors. The paramedics and firefighters were all wearing bio-suits as they followed my brothers over to the mercenaries. "I don't think one hazmat unit will be enough."

"Probably not," Mom agreed.

FBI Special Agent Hawke Grimes hurried over to my father and handed him a piece of paper.

Dad read it over, handed it back and pointed to Grandpa.

Agent Grimes shouted at Grandpa and waved the paper around.

"Oh, my God! Is that a search warrant?" Julie gasped.

Mom snorted. "I think it is. Do those fools actually think Gilgamesh's Tablet is here?"

"The terrorists did," Julie pointed out.

I burst out laughing. "They'll have to search the shit tanks too. This is going to be so much fun to watch."

Their bio-suits literally covered in flies, Dante, Grandpa and Sergeant Bergman walked up to Special Agent Grimes.

The flies immediately fell in love with Agent Grimes.

We all giggled. The expression on his face was priceless as he handed Grandpa the search warrant.

Grandpa read it over, gestured at the henhouses and walked over to the shot-all-to-hell office.

One of the SWAT team officers followed him.

Sergeant Bergman and Dante dropped all the shit-covered weapons at Agent Grimes' feet and followed Grandpa.

Dad and my brothers retreated to their cars.

Mom's cell phone beeped. "Your father says the Feds won't let them on the egg ranch and he's going to call in a favor or two to stop this nonsense."

"I want to go home," Sadie cried suddenly. "I can't stay here any longer. I can't." Tears rolled down her cheeks.

Mom handed her another bottle of water. "We all want to go home, sweetie. Be patient. It won't be long."

"You're sure?"

Mom nodded. "My husband is very good at fixing problems."

"Okay, but how do I get rid of the stench?"

Julie gave her a reassuring smile. "You take a vinegar bath."

"That works?"

"Yes, ma'am it does," Julie replied.

Sadie wiped at her tears. "I'm never, ever coming back here."

"Grandpa will be glad to hear that." Plopping down on a chair, I opened my bottle of water and took a long drink. "At least I know Ichabod is dead."

Julie sat next to me. "She could have been lying."

"True. We need to find out what they did with the body."

Twenty minutes later, Dad got us sprung and the search warrant squashed.