Alien Assassin by T. R. Harris Page A

homesickness that welled up inside him.
    He walked down the brick sidewalk toward the front gate, feeling slightly melancholy and distracted. In his saddened state, he hardly noticed when no guards came out to greet him at the gate. However, they had appeared out of nowhere when he first arrived, so they were probably just lurking somewhere just out of sight. At the open gate, he stopped and waited, hoping someone would come out and give him his ’47. After a few moments, and still no guards, he walked to the safety box and removed the weapon himself.
    A transport had been called for him and was waiting at the head of the street, its Castorian driver standing outside the vehicle, inhaling a drag off either a smokestick or one of its tamer cousins. Since he would be driving, Adam hoped it was the latter.
    Still, something didn’t feel quite right. He stopped midway down the street and turned to look back at the estate. The gate was still open, having not even closed automatically after he passed through. And he had never had to recover his own weapon before…
    Placing a hand on the butt of his MK-47, Adam returned to the estate. As he passed through the gate – and still no guards – he immediately knew something was up. Leaving the estate without escort was common, but just walking through the front gate uncontested was unheard of.
    Adam moved to his left and skirted the side of the estate, making his way toward the entrance while avoiding the main walkway. Quietly opening the front door, he crouched and slipped inside as stealthily as possible, drawing his weapon as he did so. No sound, no presence. Hell, he’d only left the home a few minutes before. Where was everyone?
    Just then he heard the distinctive pop of a bolt launcher, and his eyes were drawn to the electric blue flash coming from the other end of the long hallway to the left of the Great Room. Then he heard footsteps, running on the hard stone floors, in the direction of the office.
    Two more quick pops – then silence.
    Moving swiftly through the Great Room, Adam slid past the bar area and did a quick glance around the corner of the hallway leading to the office. There was just a slight blue haze hanging in the air, but no one was in the hallway. Still in a crouch, Adam entered the corridor, hugging the right side wall as he began to move cautiously toward the office.
    Just then, a hand appeared from low down on the doorframe to the office and tossed something into the hallway. The metal object skidded along the floor toward Adam. Recognizing the grenade immediately, Adam took two quick steps back the way he’d came and dove around the corner – just as the grenade exploded.
    The heat and concussion threw him over the bar and into the Great Room, where he landed on the back of a soft fabric sofa. He rolled over and came to his feet, then immediately ran back to the hallway. The stone walls had withstood most of the blast, but now the corridor was filled with thick smoke and burning material from the decorations that had lined the walls.  
    Using the smoke as cover, Adam was at the office doorway in a flash. He dove inside, rolling on this shoulder and coming up on one knee, his ’47 held by both hands at eye level. He quickly scanned the room for any movement, but found none. What he did find were two of Amick’s guards lying dead to his right. And there at the desk, leaning back in his chair, was Seton Amick, his eyes wide open and his jaw slack. A splash of red blood stained his brightly colored shirt, emanating from a level-one bolt-hole burned into the fabric at about mid-chest.
    Adam locked his jaw and shook his head. There goes my gravy-train , Adam thought as he looked at the body of his benefactor. And then he noticed the open safe in the wall…
    Adam jumped to his feet and ran to it. It was apparent some of the credits had been taken, but Adam’s arrival had cut short the robbery/assassination. Never one to let an opportunity pass him by,