Page 4 of No Stone Unturned

Offer no easy or illuminated targets—an operational countermeasure.

He scrutinized the front windows, illuminated by the moon outside. No evidence that any bullets had tried to penetrate the glass, not that they would have succeeded. The windows in the house were all bulletproof, one of the concessions he’d made to the government so the agents who followed him around were not also assigned to live in his basement.

“Stay calm and don’t move yet,” he urged the guests as he approached the window. “I’m just going to check things out.”

He cleared his mind, listening and assessing the noise outside. It came from the left front of the house in a rapid staccato before abruptly dying off. He immediately pictured the entire schematics of every inch of his yard, including bushes, hedges, trees, and located the approximate position of the noise.

When he got to the window, he saw what had made the sounds, confirming his earlier suspicion. He rose from his crouch, letting his hand drop from beneath his jacket. “It isn’t gunfire.”

“Car backfiring?” Beau asked from across the room.

“Firecrackers,” he said. He walked away from the window toward the kitchen. It was time to check it out for himself.

“Firecrackers? That’s unusual,” Beau said. “Not part of the party, I suppose.”

“No.” Slash considered the potential threat firecrackers could hold. It was little to none, but required investigation just the same. “However, out of an abundance of caution, please stay where you are and keep the lights off until I give the all clear.” He strode toward the kitchen and Beau followed him.

“What’s going on?” Beau asked him as he rooted around in a drawer for a flashlight and snapped it on.

“I don’t know. The Secret Service agents are already checking it out. I’m going out.”

“Whoa. Is that your best move?” Beau asked. “Someone could be trying to draw you out.”

He withdrew his gun from his shoulder holster. “I’ll be ready. Stay here and secure the front and rear accesses to the house. Let’s make sure the firecrackers aren’t a distraction to something else. You have your service weapon?”

Beau lifted his jacket. “Armed and ready.”

“Good.”

Slash disabled the alarm on the kitchen door and went out low. As he crept closer to the wooden gate that opened up to the side of the house, the soft voices of the agents became audible.

He spoke quietly, calmly. “It’s me, code-named Capri. I came out to see what’s going on.” He carefully opened the gate and stepped into the side yard.

The two Secret Service agents were waiting for him, John August and Mick Calhoun, their guns aimed his way. As soon as they saw him, they lowered their weapons.

“What are you doing out here, sir?” August asked. He holstered his weapon while taking a defensive position in front of Slash.

“Sorry to startle you, gentlemen,” Slash said, keeping his back against the house. “I appreciate your professionalism, but I saw the firecrackers and came to investigate. I need to be front and center in getting this sorted out as quickly as possible.”

The agents stared at him and didn’t move. Were they really going to make him say this aloud?

He cleared his throat, glad it was dark and they couldn’t see his face well. “My future in-laws are in there, and they aren’t impressed.”

A look of understanding, perhaps even sympathy, crossed their faces, but they were trained agents and didn’t budge from their positions. “I understand, but this isn’t protocol, sir,” August argued. “You should be inside. We have backup on the way.”

He had no intention of going back inside until he had a thorough understanding of what had happened. Even if they didn’t like it. “Until backup gets here, let’s evaluate the situation. What happened?” A quick glance confirmed there was little left of the fireworks other than a charred box, the soft rise of smoke and the acrid smell of sulfur. His mind rapidly sorted through several things at once. The number of firecrackers, the wooden container and the precise location it had been placed—close enough to the house to be both seen and heard.

Not a threat. A message.

“As you can see, someone set off fireworks,” Calhoun said. He kept staring at Slash, as if weighing how successful he’d be if he forcibly tried to drag him back into the house and to safety. Wisely, he decided not to try. “We didn’t see any vehicles on the street and no one on foot, but the fireworks didn’t set themselves off. Could have been kids.”

“Could have been,” Slash said, although he didn’t agree with that assessment. “I felt the vibration of the perimeter alarms on my phone shortly before the fireworks went off. I’ll check the security camera feeds when I go back inside.”

“Excellent. We’ll wait for the back-up agents, then review them with you, if that would be acceptable.”

“It would. For now, let’s spread out and see if we can find any clues.” Slash clicked on his flashlight.

“You’re really not going back inside, sir?” Calhoun asked.

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