Angels Carry Guns

*******

Andy read the text and smiled. He turned on the TV and selected the channel.

"This is Mandy Fulton reporting outside the Elizabeth Schweitzer Memorial Hospital where Martin Holdsworth, known at one time as the prince of the stock exchange, and Brandon and Associates' highest-paid employee, was brought two days ago. The Sheriff's Department aren't releasing many details, but it is believed that he was involved in a kidnapping attempt. Reports are unconfirmed, but it is believed that Mr. Holdsworth's daughter Tessa was kidnapped at the scene, and Martin Holdsworth was left with life-threatening injuries."

All hell broke loose. The FBI tried to suppress more information coming out of the Sheriff's office, but it was impossible without knowing the source. The phrases "no comment" and "we will hold a press conference later in the day" were the only words from the lips of everyone leaving the building. With the press sensing that they were about to be shut out, and with Mandy being the one to find the story, they quickly struck a deal with her boss to syndicate if needed.

Special Agent Donald Prendergast seethed and demanded to know who leaked the story, the temptation to put his foot through the TV being almost overwhelming. With over fifteen years at the Bureau, he sensed that something was way off base in this case. A call to the surveillance team got only the response he expected. They had followed both women back to the house and were parked with a visual on the only exit.

Both girls stepped out of the shower and dried off, Savannah checking her cell as she did so. Wilson's van yielded a few more items that were going to be needed: footwear in their size and thin jump suits. With their vests over the top, they adjusted their weapons for comfort and personal preference before turning the lights out and giving themselves time for their eyes to adjust to the darkness.

They set a steady pace across the fields, taking a course so familiar on Savannah's part. After all, she had grown up right here, so she knew where every ditch and fence was between the house and the road. The angels were waiting. Patti stepped out of the shadows as they approached, holstering her Colt as they all got into the car.

*******

A deputy stuck his head into Donald Prendergast's office. "We've just got a report of multiple shots being fired. Units are already on the way, but you may want to turn on the TV before we leave."

Dreading going anywhere near this architect of his torment, he nonetheless did so.

"We are about to go back to our reporter covering the Tessa Holdsworth kidnapping. Mandy, what have you got for us?"

Mandy Fulton gave a quick nod to whoever was working the camera. Police cars could be heard getting closer to wherever the report was coming from.

"A source within the Sheriff's Department revealed that the FBI's Hostage Rescue Team, acting on a tip-off, assaulted the building behind me. Unconfirmed reports are that there have been no casualties to the Hostage Rescue Team, although it is suspected by this reporter that all of the kidnappers are dead. There is still no news of the whereabouts of Tessa Holdsworth."

The noise of police cars skidding to a stop around the house, as well as beside Mandy Fulton and her crew, made it impossible to hear anything else she said. The cameraman had to jump out of the way of another car, causing the live feed back to the studio to cease for a few seconds. One police car skidded to a stop in front of the house, and one brave officer ran into the building while his partner went around the back.

Another car arrived, and officers started to push the onlookers nearer to the end of the street. More news crews joined the feeding frenzy, and then the TV went bang as Donald Prendergast slowly removed his foot from the screen and walked out of the office.

While another agent drove, Donald made yet another call that he knew would be pointless. Within five minutes he had the answer he fully expected. The only Hostage Rescue Team in this area was actually sitting watching the news at the main FBI building seventy miles away.

The house was swept for Tessa Holdsworth and, although a cot was found in one of the rooms, there was no sign of Tessa anywhere. There were three bodies in the living room, presumably the kidnappers, and they had guns in their hands. They may have wanted to put up a fight, but whoever killed them had caught them totally by surprise because they had not even had time to release the safety catches. "Amateurs," Donald thought to himself - professionals would never have even considered putting the safety on. There was a fourth body in the kitchen, and it was this one which held Donald's interest. He asked the MO when he arrived if he would start with this one first.

The man was clearly dead, yet he was also the only one without any clothes on. They were dumped carelessly in a pile beside the wall, but Donald couldn't find any identification in the pockets. As he looked again at the body, he was struck by how bruising was already visible in certain places. The man had been beaten, that was for sure, and it almost looked personal. Revenge, perhaps? But why?

He wondered how he was connected to the Holdsworths, and hoped that it wouldn't take too long to identify him. He also desperately wished that, whoever the killers were, they were going to take care of Tessa and not subject her to any more of an ordeal than she had already suffered.

Once outside again, he went looking for Mandy Fulton. He found her surrounded by other reporters. Most spotted Prendergast and, as the Red Sea had parted for Moses, the sea of bodies opened up, leaving the reporter and the agent facing each other.

"I want your source."

Mandy smiled. "I would sure like to help you, Donny, but I've just received a tip-off on the whereabouts of Tessa Holdsworth."

And, once again like Moses, the sea closed around him as every reporter who heard Mandy swamped her with microphones and handheld tape machines. The convoy of vehicles that followed Mandy's news van looked rather comical as the police stopped traffic at junctions so the procession following Mandy could keep up. Patti watched the cavalcade of vehicles as it approached the main entrance to the hospital and sent Savannah a text before she turned and once again disappeared into the evening.

*******

The picture that made the front page of every national paper was of Tessa asleep on Martin Holdsworth's bed. Her school uniform was bloodstained and dirty, torn in places, while one half of a handcuff was still shackled to her wrist, a reminder of the past three days.

When the hospital's security footage was handed over to the FBI it yielded nothing. One moment Martin Holdsworth was on his own, the next Tessa was right beside him. Everyone on that floor was interviewed and no one knew anything until the floor was invaded by the FBI, almost half the Sheriff's Department, and a ton of reporters.

A doctor checked her over and informed Special Agent Prendergast that Tessa had been drugged. They got the one remaining handcuff off her wrist, and then nurses washed her and changed her into a gown. The doctor sent Donald a file late the next day, showing that the drugs in Tessa's body indicated that she had been out for the duration of the kidnapping; she would have been no use in identifying any of her kidnappers even if they were alive.

Once they had discovered what drugs were used on Tessa the doctor set about a strict and very slow regime to wake her. A couple of hours later Tessa woke in a bed next to her father, Sandy and Savannah in chairs across the room. Both were silently crying and smiling at the same time.

Donald Prendergast was standing just outside the room when he heard Tessa's first words.

"Hi, Aunt Sandy; hi, Savannah! Will daddy be OK? They hurt him real bad; I tried to make them stop."

As he entered, Tessa was holding herself as both women rushed across the room to comfort her. He watched both women as they supported the little girl, with her father, not more than three feet from them all, unaware of the drama happening within his room. As Donald stood and watched, both women took their time calming Tessa. The trauma that the girl had gone through, both watching her father being beaten and her own kidnapping, had left her with little in the way of trust for any man at the moment.

It still took both women, sitting either side of Tessa and holding a hand each, before Tessa would even look at Donald, let alone answer his questions. Every question he asked would cause Tessa to look at her father lying on the bed next to hers. Eventually even Special Agent Prendergast had to concede that Tessa Holdsworth couldn't offer up any information that they didn't already know.

*******

The knock on the side of the door made Donald stop reading and place the file back onto his desk.

"Your daughter on line four, sir."

He nodded before picking up the receiver and pushing a button.

"Hey baby! What's up?"

"Hey Daddy; just checking up on you. This lump is due to drop any day now, and I want you close by to see your grandson."

"Honey, didn't that foreign school teach you anything? I seem to remember it cost a pretty penny sending you there. You don't go around calling my grandchildren 'lumps.'"

"Daddy, I am fluent in four languages as well as sailor-speak, or at least I can swear as well as one. I also finished top of my class in political science, I can make a mean pot roast and a damn good apple pie. I figure you got your money's worth from sending me to Switzerland to finish my education. Not only that, but I came back with a husband you and mom sure like, so I figure I have some leniency in calling your grandson a lump."

Both laughed, Donald taking yet another look at the file in front of him. It had everything, and yet it had absolutely nothing. The newspapers raved at the FBI's Hostage Rescue Team and called them heroes. Forensics checked every single shell casing in the house and, other than those of the kidnappers, no fingerprints were found either in the house or on the casings that they themselves fired. The MO checked the bodies thoroughly and three died of gunshot wounds with one final round to the forehead, execution style.

The last of the kidnappers was clearly tortured. He must have given up the information they wanted, as in the location where they were holding Tessa Holdsworth. The medical report stated he was long dead before the bullet to his forehead, but it showed a pattern.

No real witnesses to the assault of the house the kidnappers were in, and yet the whole neighborhood saw the Hostage Rescue Team leave the scene, each of them wearing the standard issue face cover and with the letters F.B.I. adorning the backs of their Kevlar vests. Not to mention that all four of them were armed to the hilt. Upstairs were asking him daily when they would get his final report, and yet he had nothing.

The media were bathing the FBI in publicity, and the bosses were simply lapping it up. As far as they were concerned they had four dead kidnappers, and the FBI's popularity soared higher than NASA's last rocket. No one came close to figuring out who the team was that assaulted the house, although they were clearly militarily trained. Inquiries by the FBI gave up no missing members of the armed forces that night. In effect, they kept drawing blanks, and the longer the enquiry went on the sooner they figured the press would get to know about it.

The fallout from that piece of information getting into the hands of people like Mandy Fulton didn't bear thinking about. Not to mention the sudden nosedive in popularity his department would receive when they finally got to admit that, after a week on the case, they had absolutely nothing on the four men who stormed the house and killed the kidnappers.

With a sigh he pushed the file to the corner of the desk and concentrated on his daughter.

"I'm all but done here. I have to finish my report and get a good night's sleep, then head home. Other than that, Bethany, I will see you later on tomorrow."

The squeal that followed made Donald remove the phone from his ear as quickly as he could. His daughter made him promise again to stop by when he got back, they passed a few words of love, and the phone went dead.

Andy watched from the ops room as Donald Prendergast put the phone down and picked up the file, shaking his head once again as he read it. Finally, with a shrug of his shoulders, he pulled a pen out of his pocket and signed at the bottom of the page.

The cell phone next to Andy beeped with a message, a second beep being muffled as he covered it with his hand. He read the text. "133. He's on his way home tomorrow. The girls did good and left nothing for him to find. I assume each of the rescue team will get a medal for this. Baby due in a few days. Please swing by in three months. Want to talk to you about returning to work, end."

*******

Donald Prendergast and his partner were informed that the hospital was releasing Tessa the same morning that they were both leaving to head back to their office. They both went to see her one final time; he knew Sandy and Savannah would be there, even though they no longer had them followed. The reports from the hospital told him either one or both were there twenty-four seven. He couldn't blame them. The thought of anything happening to his own daughter and grandchildren would drive him to distraction.

He did have both alibis checked out as a matter of routine, but the security footage clearly showed Savannah enjoying shopping with a couple of local women and they even interviewed both of them. Sandy's case was a little harder, even though the base commander personally phoned him and echoed exactly what Sandy had said. He even invited them to the base to interview all the secretarial staff if he felt it was needed, as long as he knew what date so he could fix passes at the gate. Donald's gut instinct told him to dig further on both these women but, no matter what avenue he tried, it all came back clean.

He did worry about Tessa's mental well being; the doctors had assigned her a therapist and, although he was only given an outline, the therapist did say that she was young and resilient. It was also clear to see, even from the corridor, that both these woman loved that little girl. How long her recovery would take would surely depend on how much longer Martin Holdsworth remained in a coma.

That, for now, would be down to him and, judging by the fight he put up trying to protect his daughter, that man had enough willpower to see him through this. Donald wished all three well, shook the ladies' hands, and knelt down to talk to Tessa. He didn't have the heart to tell her that it was against regulations for him to accept a hug as a thank you. The father in him overruled that regulation in a heartbeat.

It was three weeks later that Donald Prendergast got a follow up call from the Elizabeth Schweitzer Memorial Hospital, more a courtesy call than a request really. Martin Holdsworth had regained consciousness early that morning, squeezing the hand of Savannah who was asleep on the chair next to him. The nurses rushed in when she screamed, and everyone smiled when they found Savannah lying on top of him showering him with kisses.

*******

My muscles ached. The doctors all told me the same thing over and over again - that I had hours, days or, most probably, weeks of physical therapy to look forward to. Savannah would drop by as soon as she had dropped Tessa off at school, and became the physical therapist's assistant. I had weeks' worth of wasted muscle to rebuild and, seeing my therapist behind me and a hot-looking Savannah in a skintight outfit in front of me, I hoped it wasn't going to take too long to get me fit again.

On one of my lowest moments the frustration that I couldn't get all this done quicker caused the only time I lost my temper and shouted at both of them. Savannah asked my therapist to leave the room and get himself a coffee. When the door closed, she sat on a chair nearby and pulled her shorts down, quickly followed by her panties. Her legs opened and her hands went straight to her naked pussy.

For a moment she rubbed her hand up and down, and then a finger would sink into her, only to come out again glistening with her juices. My body reacted the only way it always did around her lately - I was as hard as steel.

"You're getting with the program, Martin, and when they let you home again then you get to be in here again. Until then you can look but you can't touch. Once I have you home you can touch all you want; that's my promise to you."

Again her finger delved deep into her, and once again came back out, only this time she sucked on it. The smile held me: I smiled back and nodded my head, although we both knew she hadn't finished.

"The promise I want from you is that you stop with the anger issues. Tessa's fine, you're on the mend, and they are all dead. That means I get my hands on you for the rest of our lives, and I want a fit Martin - not the one I see now."

It was with a fair degree of sadness that I watched her pull her panties and shorts back on. Once the image of her pussy being again covered left my mind and I looked at her, she smiled that one smile that held so much mischief.

"Now, as an incentive, Martin, you have until David gets back from his coffee break. So get yourself over here and I will blow you until we hear him in the outer office."

My hands once again went to the rail on either side and, with our eyes locked on one another, I walked towards her outstretched arms, my outburst long forgotten.

*******

The Sheriff did drop by a couple of times and, other than confirm what the witnesses had said, I couldn't be any real help. Although I was told I was still an out-patient, and would be for some weeks, I was released two weeks later, and was so relieved to be back home again. Sandy was on compassionate leave from the army. Tessa was like a limpet the first day I got back, and I was thankful that both the women understood and left us alone for the day.

We didn't do anything exciting; we just sat on the porch and watched the day go by. One or the other would pop their head out of the door to see if we wanted anything or to let us know that food was ready. We would eat, then once again gravitate towards the seat out on the porch.

We would hold each other and, when my mind betrayed me and once again played the scene of the crash and the hooded man pulling me out of the car while another stole my daughter from me, I would hold Tessa a little tighter in my arms. She knew, and she cried as she squeezed me in turn.

"I didn't want them to take you, baby; you have to believe that with all your heart."

Tessa pushed more of herself against my side, and cried right alongside of me.

"I know, daddy. I screamed like you once told me to if a stranger touched me. I kicked him as hard as I could until I couldn't kick him anymore. I saw you fighting that man, and then there were two of them and you went down. They wouldn't stop, daddy; I begged them to stop, but they just wouldn't," she sobbed.

Kissing the top of my daughter's head seemed to help calm her.

"Perhaps it's best that we sell up and go back to the city, baby. I will hire people to protect us."

It was then my own daughter proved to me that she was older by far than her years.

"We can't do that, daddy! That would be running away, and I don't want to run. When I woke up in the hospital next to you, Aunt Sandy and Savannah made me a promise that they would never let this happen again. I believed them Daddy; you have to as well."

I thought I was humoring my daughter by agreeing with her. Three days later that one statement came back to bite me on the ass.