Sheepdogs: Keeping the Wolves at Bay by Gordon Carroll (tools of titans ebook .TXT) 📗

half way up that tunneled all the way through the mountain to the other side. A good place for Mr. Spock to stage a sniper. Only I didn’t think He would be able to pull that one off on this short of notice. It was a good hike and required a little climbing to make it to the cave, and first you had to know it was even there. Not to mention the route it took to get to it. If I was wrong and he did stage a man there, I still might be able to get Amber into Tom’s hands before he took me out. But it would be close at best. I shook my head. It was useless to waste much time on it anyway because there was no way I could get Max up there in time to stage him and then get back to take care of everything else. I would just have to hope for the best.

My next placement picks for snipers would be at either end of the last row of concrete bench seating, past the row itself on top of the planters. The trees, tall evergreens with thick pine needles, would offer concealment and shade, and the elevated position would give a superb field of fire.

After I snugged an electric collar around Max’s neck, I took him past the planter on the south side to where the railing blocks a two foot drop-off. I had him slip under the metal bar, gave him a platz command and he dropped to his belly, his eyes just able to see over the concrete berm. I pointed toward the closest planter and gave him the guard command. He looked at me with a bored expression and belched. I stroked his head. He growled. I smiled. “I love you too, boy.” He growled again, this time showing teeth. I removed my hand. What a joker.

I would have liked to keep Max with me on the stage, but the work up here was killing work, and it might prove too much for Pilgrim, so Max had the job.

When I reached the stage again, it was ten after four and streaks of violet and blue were gently shifting through the sky. I dropped the backpack and ran full out to the Escalade. Now that I knew Mr. Spock’s men weren’t already here, I could bring the car in. I started it up and drove back to the open bay doors and backed it in. I closed the doors and slid the inner lock into its hasp. It could only be opened from the inside now.

I carried the rifle case from the Escalade and took my position next to the south side door that opened onto the stage. There was a rectangular section cut above the door with sandstone louvers fitted along its length to allow airflow. Standing on a chair, I surveyed the battlefield. This whole operation would go a lot smoother if I had a couple of Claymores, but the police tend to frown upon blowing up their state treasures, even for a good cause.

There was no way to know for certain how many men Mr. Spock would deploy, but I figured about five. Two snipers, one for each planter, a spotter watching the low road, probably from the overhanging rock behind the stage, and another to guard the high road to the upper parking area. Mr. Spock would bring the girl down from the upper lot, planning on making the stage. I would stop him when he got to the level of the lighting platform. The tricky part would be to get him to stand directly in front of the three foot high, flat roofed shed. But I had an idea for that.

It was by no means the best plan I’d ever come up with, but like Quill in Guardians with the dance off against Ronan, it was all I had. I looked at my watch, four-twenty. Now came the hardest part of all.

Waiting.

The dog watched Gil run down the steps. He was far slower than Max. Max could have run to the bottom and all the way back up to the top and still beat him back to the bottom. He seemed so much weaker than Max in so many ways. And yet Max could not best him.

Worse than that, Max was starting to not want to. And that scared him. When the man rubbed his head it felt good. A part of Max told him to bite into the man’s wrist, to sink his teeth in as far as they would go and shake and tear until the blood flowed and the man submitted. But that other part made him want to relax and feel the strong, but gentle strokes as the fingers smoothed the fur of his head. That part wanted to accept the man as his pack leader.

Ancient instincts warred within him.

Max laid his head on his paws and rested. A rabbit popped out from behind a bush and hopped up on the planter a few feet away, chewing the brown-green leaves of sparse grass that sprouted between cracks in the asphalt and cement. Its’ nose and ears twitched, searching for signs of danger. Max was hungry and rabbits were good for food, but the Alpha had put him in a long down which meant he wasn’t to get up or move until signaled, either by voice or the collar that circled his throat. The collar was tight. It was uncomfortable but Max accepted wearing it. When the man put the collar on him it meant he would get to fight soon. And just now there was nothing Max wanted more than to attack something. To forget about the man and his touch and his voice, and instead give himself over fully to the bloodlust that swallowed him in its red glow when he fought. When life and death hung in the balance and there was only tooth and