Saving Sandra

Doug drew his gun, stuck his phone in his pocket, and waved at Lori to be still.

"Come out and join the others!" the voice commanded. "I promise I won't hurt you!"

Footsteps echoed as the voice's owner stepped towards the desk. Gunshots echoed from other areas of the mansion to accompany them.

Doug waited till the thug- it was one of the ski-masked men who'd been in the entryway- stepped onto their side of the desk with gun extended. The young deputy immediately fired twice when the enemy was in his sights, hitting the thug in the chest and head. The thug shook and fell back. Doug leapt up, firing his gun twice more in the same motion. The thug was hit again in the stomach and the head. He collapsed.

Doug pointed his gun at the room door, reminding himself he had five more shots in his current magazine. No one challenged him immediately.

"Lori!" Doug whispered. "You okay?"

The publicist nodded, gasping.

Doug walked to the thug's corpse. He bent over and grabbed the submachine gun the enemy had dropped when he collapsed. He tucked his pistol away, then checked the submachine gun. It was an HK MP-5. Its clip was about half full. "Now I have a machine gun," Doug quipped, smiling. "Ho Ho Ho."

He continued checking the dead thug. Two more clips for the submachine gun. A cigarette lighter and a few other useless items. A cell phone that wasn't immediately useful either. Doug tucked the clips and the bad guy's cell phone away.

"Can you stay here?" he asked Lori.

She nodded.

"Do you have a phone?"

She nodded again.

"Good. Call 911 and tell them what happened here. Stay hidden. I have to go."

Lori did not challenge him as he hurried from the office. Doug looked around the hall and saw no one else nearby to challenge him. Two men in catering uniforms were running down another hall he passed, facing away from Doug. The young deputy saw the submachine guns in their hands and quickly ducked into another side room, a dining area. He stayed behind a table and waited until the footsteps had passed.

He then jumped back into the hallway and saw the two goons in catering uniforms were kicking open doors near the dining room and waving their guns around. Doug raised his submachine gun and yelled, "Police!" at the backs of the two goons in catering uniforms. "Drop the guns!"

The men spun, their guns rising to ready position. Doug cut them both down with a quick burst. He released a breath as they fell.

"Okay," he whispered, looking around. "What next?"

Loud gunshots echoed from down another nearby hallway, both submachine gun and pistol fire. Doug cautiously headed in that direction.

***

Del Dawson was in a state of panic.

He was a twenty-eight year old detective newly promoted into the Travis County District Attorney's Office from the Sheriff's Department. Del and Doug had been in the same academy class. Del was also among the boyfriends of Doug's platonic male bisexual friend Boris Garin. Boris and Del had been roommates until Boris moved out to a separate home with his girlfriend Elena Ruiz. Del was a platonic friend of the straight Doug and naturally concerned for his fellow law enforcement officer. He was also concerned for all the other guests and staff at Sandra Bullock's party that night.

Who were the men in catering uniforms who were not caterers? Who were those men in ski masks he'd seen entering the pool area just as he ran out? Del hoped he and his hero colleagues could handle whatever mischief the enemy had planned.

The detective ran around multiple corners, trying to remember the mansion layout. Footsteps echoed from behind him.

Three of them are after me, Del reminded himself. I don't know how many more I saw back in the pool area. I shot two, but there were at least nine others. At least seven more were coming in from the entry hall when I ran out. That guy with the pistol leading them resembled the notorious German terrorists Hans and Simon Gruber. Not a crime in and of itself, but since he's probably a bad guy like the other Grubers...

His train of thought was interrupted as multiple gunshots echoed from behind him.

Del dodged to the side, finding himself in the mansion kitchen. A trio of chefs were being held at gunpoint by another man in a catering uniform wielding an assault rifle. Del instantly dove to the ground, firing his pistol as he fell. The goon with the assault rifle was hit five times and collapsed. The chefs screamed and shook where they stood as Del's other gunshots hit the nearby walls.

Del rolled over in the next instant. His gun came up and fired at the three men pursuing him who were running into the kitchen. The first man was hit twice and collapsed. The second man was hit once and fell back. Del's gun then clicked dry.

The third man grinned and leveled his gun at Del. "It's over, pig!" he shouted.

Del grimaced, his empty gun shaking in his hand.

There was a loud series of gunshots from behind the thug. He collapsed as several bullets impacted him.

Doug Ramsay stepped into the kitchen, ejecting his submachine gun's clip and inserting another as he moved. "Del!" he shouted, smiling at his colleague.

"Doug," Del nodded back. "Thanks."

"No problem." Doug pointed at the discarded submachine guns on the ground. "Why don't you take one of those and help me?"

Del nodded and moved to scoop up a submachine gun.

The chefs, no longer panicking, were picking up the other submachine guns and the assault rifle. "How many of these guys are there?" asked the older of the two women among the chefs.

"Uh, at least six, I think," Doug said. "Del, you were in the pool area. Did you see Lakestrider?'

"She was with Sandra and Matthew McConaghey," Del replied. "I saw maybe fourteen or more bad guys before I ran out of there. What are they, robbers? Terrorists?"

"Some kind of bad guys," Doug said with a shrug. He looked at the chefs. "Can you three handle those?"

"Yes," said the male chef holding the assault rifle, a large Samoan with a bald head. "I've worked with action film stars."

"And I was in the Army," said the younger female chef. Both she and the other were Hispanic. "Mom here was in the Air Force."

"They got the drop on us," the older female chef said, expertly checking her gun's clip. "Not happening again."

"Good." Doug smiled at them. Then his expression changed. "Um, I left a publicist back in the study. The butler and three cops were in the entryway- I think they're dead. Del, have you been in contact with Jim or anyone else?"

"No, I've been busy being chased through the mansion!" Del shook his head. He looked at the three chefs. "Where would these goons be going? They had hostages in the pool area but is there anywhere else? Anywhere Sandra keeps valuables?"

"There's a safe!" said the older female chef. "Second floor in Sandra's bedroom. She keeps a lot of cash in there. They had inside men among the caterers. If there are other inside men..."

Doug waved her to silence. "Del, I texted our county SWAT team and they should be on the way. Can you and these chefs try and rescue the hostages in the pool area? I'll head upstairs and check on Sandra's safe."

Del nodded, checking his submachine gun. "You be careful, Doug."

***

Sandra Bullock kept her anger under control.

These assholes! she raged to herself as the thugs escorted her up the stairwell. They break into my house, disrupt my party, and think they can take my valuables?

They did take some of my valuables, she reminded herself. She'd already given the larger of the two masked thugs escorting her a roll of cash, her necklace, and her earrings. And other thugs were robbing my guests back in the pool area, Sandra reminded herself. The black man in the glasses with us means to crack my safe and take even more from me. I have a gun in there- I learned to fire one for all the action films I've done, but can I handle three armed thugs outside a scripted situation? I'm not sure.

She walked through the mansion, waiting for her moment. One of the masked thugs was keeping his gun on her. The other was in the lead of their party. The black man in the glasses- Tony Gruber had said his name was Theo- brought up the rear. He was sticking his short-barreled shotgun into various rooms and nodding at other goons dressed in ski masks and catering uniforms. They were herding guests and party staff towards the pool area.

"How many of you are there?" Sandra dared to ask Theo. "I see you suborned my caterers. Anyone else?"

"Shut up!" Theo ordered her, waving his shotgun. "I ain't telling you shit! This ain't my first rodeo!"

Okay, Sandra thought, he's a smart bad guy. Never mind. "I actually have two safes," she said as they reached the stairs. "One in my bedroom upstairs and another in my study. Which one you want me to open first?"

"Bedroom since we're on the stairs already," Theo directed her. "And no funny business!"

Sandra nodded and waved at them to head up the stairs.

***

In the pool area, Lakestrider frowned at Tony Gruber as he took Matthew McConaghey's Rolex wristwatch. "I didn't know Simon Gruber had a son," the Native American deputy said cautiously. "You have any brothers or sisters?"

"A few," Tony Gruber shrugged, pointing his gun at her pearl necklace. "Take that off and give it to Franco there." He waved at one of the goons in catering uniforms.

Lakestrider complied with the instruction, glad no one was yet searching her in depth. Her skirt was long enough to conceal her gun and Matthew wasn't dumb enough to blow her cover. None of the other guests were dumb enough either. All were nodding and complying with the thugs' robbery, whether they knew Lakestrider was a cop or not. Lakestrider eyed Gruber, Salvatore, and the others nervously, trying to keep her composure. She counted ten thugs in the pool area, plus Gruber and the mutant dragon man. A few of the guests and staff were Friendship, including Silvan Farrow. Silvan had magician powers, Lakestrider remembered. Maybe the Faerie Alien Hybrid Friendship leader would help them?

Silvan was not helping them yet. The androgynous being was nodding at a large thug in a plainclothes security uniform suit who held an assault rifle standing near the snack table. "I am not wearing any jewelry and I do not carry cash money with me," Silvan proclaimed. "You should ignore me as just another guest."

"Fine!" the thug commanded Silvan, gesturing with his rifle. "Stand still!"

"That's one of my bodyguards," Matthew McConaghey whispered at Lakestrider, looking at the thug covering Silvan. "Last time I hire his security company."

Lakestrider nodded and waved the actor to be quiet while dropping her wristwatch and bracelets into another thug's bag.

"Check on everyone!" Gruber was commanding another thug who was typing texts into a cell phone. "We need to secure the mansion and get out of here quickly. Does Rodney have the truck ready?"

"Yes, Tony," said the thug typing texts. "Rodney is outside and he'll be ready as soon as we get done here. Eric is at the gate and reports no outside cops responding yet. Soon as we get the money, we can get out of here, right?"

"Soon as Theo gets the money, yes!" Gruber shouted. He waved at Salvatore and three other thugs. "Go to Theo and see if he needs help!"

Lakestrider watched them leave and waited for the other thugs to move away from here. I can't handle the dragon, she told herself, but with help from Silvan, maybe the rest of these goons... she caught Silvan's attention as the thug in the security uniform directed Silvan to stand next to her.

The Faerie Alien Hybrid nodded back, then wiggled one long-fingered hand. Silvan then said something in Lakestrider's native Chippewa language.

"What was that?" the thug in the security uniform asked Silvan. "What did you say?"

Lakestrider had already mentally translated the speech into English. "Their guns are jammed." She instantly grabbed the pistol under her skirt and leveled it, then shot the thug in the security uniform twice.

The thug was too surprised to fire back. Matthew McConaghey tackled him in the next instant and grabbed his assault rifle. He had not understood Silvan, but was capable of taking a cue from Lakestrider, whom he wanted to impress. Matthew had played the lead in the gangster film The Newton Boys and become familiar with assault rifles in order to pull off the bank robbery and other violent scenes. He waved the rifle at the nearest thugs. "Drop your guns!" he commanded.

The thugs raised their guns to shoot back. They clicked and the thugs frowned.

Lakestrider did not waste any time. Her pistol was small caliber, but she was very skilled with it. She shot the thug who had been texting, then the three thugs closest to her and Matthew, once each in the head. The precise shots knocked them down and dead. Her gun clicked dry as she fired another shot that barely missed Tony Gruber.

The leader of the thugs aimed his gun back at Lakestrider and grimaced when it failed to fire. He still had one other thug with a submachine gun. That goon's gun was clicking too. The goon frowned and dropped his gun as Matthew McConaghey pointed the assault rifle at him.

"Your gun will work," Silvan told Matthew. "It unjammed the instant you picked it up."

"Good to know," Matthew replied, waving at Gruber and the other remaining goon. "You two heard the... whatever this thing is. You're our hostages now!"

"Yes," said Lakestrider, grabbing another discarded submachine gun. "And since you were dumb enough to send your dragon out of the room... you're under arrest, Gruber. I'm Deputy Lakestrider, Travis County."

"You got me, lady cop," Gruber sighed, raising his hands.

***

In the mansion study, a large Mongol thug in a ski mask named Uli was pushing the door open. "Anyone in here?" he called out.

Uli was one of several thugs who had recently been released from prison after working with terrorists in the Gruber family on previous occasions. Theo was another example. This operation should be a straight smash and grab, Uli thought. Theo texted me a few seconds ago, told me to check this room for an extra safe. He'll be down here shortly. I should check in with my comrades, see if Theo can get down here to crack the safe.

He checked behind the desk and smiled at the young blonde woman cringing there. "Up," Uli directed her with his gun. "To the pool area."

Lori nodded and moved out from under the desk. She walked hesitantly to the entrance of the study.

"Wait!" Uli ordered her. "Where's the safe in here?"

"Uh, I don't know," Lori spoke truthfully. She then glanced at the largest painting in the room.

It's always behind a big painting, right? Lori thought to herself. My boyfriend Calvin Bailey and I infiltrated this mansion earlier intending to rob Sandra. She had him fired from a previous film they worked on together and she doesn't pay me enough. Calvin was going to kill Ryan Gosling, who fired me when I worked with him on The Believer and he didn't properly appreciate my sexual advances. Who these goons with the guns are I have no idea but I'm not dumb enough to challenge them. I wonder if Calvin knew there was a cop who looked like Ryan at this party. I should warn him the next time I see him.

She watched as the goon walked to the painting and threw it aside. No safe was revealed. Uli again waved his gun at Lori.

Lori shrugged, then walked to another painting and pulled it off the wall. She also pulled down Sandra Bullock's framed Bachelor of Fine Arts degree and several more framed photographs of Sandra with various people. No safes were revealed.

"I don't know where the safe is," Lori told Uli again. "If I did, I would tell you."

Uli fired a burst into the wall and knocked down several more pieces of wall art. Still no safe was revealed. He sighed and waved his gun at Lori in frustration. Lori nodded, then frowned as she looked towards a black man with a mohawk haircut stepping into the room with three chefs behind him. All were holding guns leveled at Uli.

"Police!" Del Dawson shouted. "Drop it, dickhead!"

Uli's gun clicked as he swept it up and tried to fire. Del shot him in the shoulder before he could squeeze the trigger again. Uli gasped and dropped his weapon, then raised his hands.

Del waved at one of the chefs to cover Uli, then punched him in the jaw, knocking him to the floor. Del kicked Uli in the forehead, knocking him unconscious. Del drew a pair of handcuffs and secured the thug's wrists. He then kicked Uli's gun towards Lori. "You okay, ma'am? Can you at least hold that thing?"

Lori just stared at him.

"I'm a cop!" Del informed her, flashing the badge on his belt. "I have Mohawk ancestors and successfully lobbied for my haircut to be allowed by my superiors! I'm not a bad guy!"

Lori recovered herself. "Uh, good! Thanks for saving me! I work for Sandra! Have you seen my boyfriend, Calvin?"

"Calvin Wayne Bailey?" Del asked her.

Lori nodded before she could stop herself.

"You're under arrest for aiding a known felon!" Del's gun was pointed at Lori now. "Cover her!"

The three chefs did not question Del and aimed their guns at Lori, who cursed her idiocy in mentioning Calvin's name. She let Del cuff her and shove her to the floor.

***

Outside the mansion, a few minutes prior to the robbers revealing themselves, Officer Jim Wright of the Austin Police Department was securing Calvin Wayne Bailey in a police car. "You sit tight," he told Bailey. "I have to check in with HQ, then you're going to jail."

"Whatever, copper," Bailey quipped. "You can only hold me so long! And..."

"Shut up!" Wright frowned as gunfire echoed from the mansion. "What the heck..."

He slammed the police car door with Bailey inside, then drew his gun and hurried back towards the front entrance. Three men in ski masks were standing outside near a large panel truck. Two had assault rifles trained on the driveway in opposite directions. The third man had a scoped sniper rifle slung over his shoulder. He was nodding at his comrades and hurrying towards a ladder on the back of the truck.

Truck's tall enough for that guy to see over the mansion walls if he stands on top of it, Wright thought. They must have gotten in through the front gate. He ducked behind a hedge and looked in that direction. A man in a security uniform suit was directing a black van to drive through. The van parked and several more thugs in ski masks carrying submachine guns got out, then ran into the mansion.

Okay, Wright thought, these guys can't be part of the party's invited guests. Nobody told me they were coming. I'm not wasting time asking who they are.

He waited for more gunfire to echo from the mansion and stayed behind the hedge, readying his Glock.45. At the right moment, he leapt out and fired his gun at the three terrorists standing beside and atop the truck. The sniper was Wright's first target. He was hit three times and collapsed. The two thugs beside the truck were each hit twice by Jim's next four bullets. They also fell over dead. Another thug in a ski mask lunged out of the truck's cab with a gun aimed at Wright, who shot him three times before he could fire.

The phony guard on the gate drew a pistol and aimed it at Wright. Wright had one bullet left and hit that enemy in the head with it. He sighed in relief as his gun clicked empty.

Thank goodness I qualified top marksman in the Army, Jim Wright thought. He then moved to check the dead thugs.

They had cell phones that opened easily when Wright checked them. He saw saved texts the thugs were obviously exchanging with their comrades inside the mansion. Truck driver's named Rodney and Eric is the gate guard, Wright noted, checking the dead men's IDs. I'm not going inside the mansion, who knows how many thugs are in there? But I can stay out here and fool them into thinking their friends are still alive if they check in. That's the idiocy of using texts to communicate. I'll call 911 too and hope more cops show up soon.