her around, pulling her from her mutterings. “Not this!” he whispered. She opened her mouth to give him a double barrel of what-for when he put his finger to his mouth to silence her. “We need to talk!”
Before Barbara exploded on him, she stopped and realized this behavior was SO unlike him. His eyes indicated that he was scared and Robert Mueller never got scared. She sat down on the bed and he pulled her close to him and began his tale. He told her everything. For the first time in Robert’s professional life, he broke every rule and as his story came out, so did the emotions. Tears flowed freely, but he didn’t let it show in his voice. She had to turn her ear to his mouth in order to hear him over the stereo and she didn’t have the opportunity to see his tears until his story was done.
At the end of Robert’s outpouring, she had questions and he answered them as best he could. He waited for her to scream at him, to yell, to ball her fists and strike him, to hate him. He could have taken that. He would have preferred that. But she didn’t. Instead, she did something far, far worse. She cried with him. She laid her head against his chest and they held each other while each took turns mourning the loss of something that they had both looked forward to exploring again.
Somehow in the emotional turmoil that had been the formal end of their marriage, they ended up in the floor, their bedspread pulled over them. Barbara called her mother and asked her to pick Bobby up from school and she arranged to pick him up a little later that evening. She told her mom that Robert was back in town and that they wanted to surprise Bobby; which was true, but neither of them was ready to face their son at the moment.
Robert explained that one of the team members had been abducted, and if they could steal away with an operator, then they could also come after a family member. Barbara practically shook with fear at the idea. Bob slipped out to his Jeep and came back with a small duffel bag. In a side pocket he had stashed a stack of magazines with silver bullets. “I took these from work. I would have gotten a gun for you, too, but they keep a pretty close eye on those.” He handed her the magazines.
Barbara looked at him as if he were stupid. “What am I supposed to do with these, Bob? Throw them at a vampire if they show up?” she whispered.
He smiled at her and dug to the bottom of the duffel bag. He pulled out a small, flat black plastic case. It had a large FN e mbossed on the top. “Lucky for us, they happen to sell the same pistol to civilians. I picked one up as soon as I hit town.” He opened the case and proceeded to show her how to break down the weapon and he cleaned the factory goo from the inside of it. “I’m going to take you to the farm and show you how to use this. I got you some practice ammo just for that so we can save the silver for when it counts. This thing is a lot easier to use then that 9MM you’re used to.”
She checked out the weapon and smiled at him. “I like this. It’s light and just feels good in my hands.”
“Wait ‘til you shoot her.”
She narrowed her gaze at him. “Why do guys always call guns a ‘she’?”
He grinned, knowing he was about to step in it. “Because they’re fun to play with, guys get off on squeezing them, some will go off half-cocked, they always have a loud retort, and if you’re not careful, they’ll kick you good and hard.”
She punched him in the arm and he laughed at her, pulling her into his embrace. “Hey, you asked, remember?!”
*****
Viktor left the Geneve-Cointrin International Airport and grabbed the first available taxi for downtown Geneva. He had an appointment to keep and another flight to catch. He kept glan cing at his watch and asking the driver to increase his speed. The taxi driver would drive a little faster, weaving about in traffic as best he could, but slowed down again at regular intervals, aggravating Viktor
Before Barbara exploded on him, she stopped and realized this behavior was SO unlike him. His eyes indicated that he was scared and Robert Mueller never got scared. She sat down on the bed and he pulled her close to him and began his tale. He told her everything. For the first time in Robert’s professional life, he broke every rule and as his story came out, so did the emotions. Tears flowed freely, but he didn’t let it show in his voice. She had to turn her ear to his mouth in order to hear him over the stereo and she didn’t have the opportunity to see his tears until his story was done.
At the end of Robert’s outpouring, she had questions and he answered them as best he could. He waited for her to scream at him, to yell, to ball her fists and strike him, to hate him. He could have taken that. He would have preferred that. But she didn’t. Instead, she did something far, far worse. She cried with him. She laid her head against his chest and they held each other while each took turns mourning the loss of something that they had both looked forward to exploring again.
Somehow in the emotional turmoil that had been the formal end of their marriage, they ended up in the floor, their bedspread pulled over them. Barbara called her mother and asked her to pick Bobby up from school and she arranged to pick him up a little later that evening. She told her mom that Robert was back in town and that they wanted to surprise Bobby; which was true, but neither of them was ready to face their son at the moment.
Robert explained that one of the team members had been abducted, and if they could steal away with an operator, then they could also come after a family member. Barbara practically shook with fear at the idea. Bob slipped out to his Jeep and came back with a small duffel bag. In a side pocket he had stashed a stack of magazines with silver bullets. “I took these from work. I would have gotten a gun for you, too, but they keep a pretty close eye on those.” He handed her the magazines.
Barbara looked at him as if he were stupid. “What am I supposed to do with these, Bob? Throw them at a vampire if they show up?” she whispered.
He smiled at her and dug to the bottom of the duffel bag. He pulled out a small, flat black plastic case. It had a large FN e mbossed on the top. “Lucky for us, they happen to sell the same pistol to civilians. I picked one up as soon as I hit town.” He opened the case and proceeded to show her how to break down the weapon and he cleaned the factory goo from the inside of it. “I’m going to take you to the farm and show you how to use this. I got you some practice ammo just for that so we can save the silver for when it counts. This thing is a lot easier to use then that 9MM you’re used to.”
She checked out the weapon and smiled at him. “I like this. It’s light and just feels good in my hands.”
“Wait ‘til you shoot her.”
She narrowed her gaze at him. “Why do guys always call guns a ‘she’?”
He grinned, knowing he was about to step in it. “Because they’re fun to play with, guys get off on squeezing them, some will go off half-cocked, they always have a loud retort, and if you’re not careful, they’ll kick you good and hard.”
She punched him in the arm and he laughed at her, pulling her into his embrace. “Hey, you asked, remember?!”
*****
Viktor left the Geneve-Cointrin International Airport and grabbed the first available taxi for downtown Geneva. He had an appointment to keep and another flight to catch. He kept glan cing at his watch and asking the driver to increase his speed. The taxi driver would drive a little faster, weaving about in traffic as best he could, but slowed down again at regular intervals, aggravating Viktor
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