As night wraps itself around the home, a hazy mist settles over the surroundings giving them a surreal and dreamlike quality. In juxtaposition, a focused discussion is taking place inside by the clear light of electric lamps. The tension in the “boathouse” is palpable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In a brief aside it’s decided that the personnel at the Port Authority were the likely culprits behind the placement of the tracking tag, most likely as the Section were being grilled by N. Singh Khatri.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dmitri shakes his head in disappointment. “I had plenty of time to scan our luggage in the back of that damn truck,” he complains, recalling the idle hours that the Section had spent in the back of Mike’s 18 wheeler.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“We’re gonna need to work on our OPSEC,” offers Rose.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Rebekah responds, “Trust me, you’re not the first to say that, but right now we have bigger worries. There’s no reason to think that they won’t keep trying to kill us.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
With a look of surprise, Rose asks Rebekah to explain. The Handler obliges and quickly summarizes the two mystery assassination attempts in Bangkok.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Damn,” responds Rose. “Sounds like you guys had a more exciting time over there than me.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“That’s one way to put it,” observes Rebekah with mild sarcasm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At this point the discussion quickly turns to immediate options.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As ideas are tossed around, Cornelius and Arti insist on consulting with the agency. The most expeditious method for that purpose is decided to be their ancient Ouija board, which they retrieve from a small cupboard nearby.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Fearing an inadvertent psychokinetic influence, they regretfully invite everyone but Elvis to join them. The young man retires to the upstairs level, remarking that it probably wouldn’t make any difference anyway.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The Henrichs make their way into the dim space adjoining the kitchen and with the flick of a wall switch the sparse room is illuminated. It contains two gauzy curtains covering two tall windows, an empty display case placed snugly against a far corner, and a circular table resting in the middle of the room. The illumination comes from a single incandescent light bulb suspended on a bare wire over the wooden tabletop.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As Mirabelle leans casually against a door frame and observes, Brock, Rose, Rebekah, Arti, and Cornelius gather around the table. The worn Ouija board is placed on the surface between them. With the table full, Dominic volunteers to lean against a wall and just watch. Dmitri decides to join Elvis on the upper level explaining that, “We could really use a second opinion.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Each person at the table places their index finger on the planchette and looks on in anticipation. Without hesitation Arti asks the agency<\/em> to provide them with actionable intelligence on their adversary.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Nearly immediately the small pointer begins to move slowly across the intricate surface, spelling out “AGENTS”. With more assertiveness it continues to produce “PREPAREHERENOW”.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Noticeably anxious, Arti asks for directions behind the imperative to prepare<\/em>. The board spells “BOOM” then reiterates “PREPARENOW”. Pressed for further information, the Ouija board alternates between “BOOM”, “PREPARE”, “HERE”, and “NOW”.<\/p>\n\n\n\n While this is happening, Elvis and Dmitri hurriedly assemble the pod in one of the upstairs rooms. The electronics are quickly up and running and the agents begin shortened sessions. Not much later their neural nets begin to produce similar results as those of the Ouija group: “DANGER”, “GUARD”, “FIRE”, “HOUSE”, “BOMB”<\/p>\n\n\n\n The two groups gather back in the nautical room to discuss the results. Based on their gathered intelligence, specifically “HERE” and “GUARD”, it’s determined that a retreat would be ill-advised. However, when it comes to better alternatives, the room falls into silent contemplation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Rose is the first to offer suggestions. “We need to make sure they can’t see us, at least not easily,” she says. “Night vision is easy to get and we don’t want to be sitting ducks. On the flipside, I don’t suppose any of you are armed?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Are you kidding?” asks Dominic forthrightly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “You don’t know if you don’t ask,” she replies just as directly. “Okay, so we’re gonna need to improvise. What do we have around here that’s flammable or explosive?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Zere’s a shed on ze edge of ze property,” notes Cornelius. “Zere’s gazoline zere for ze lawnmower.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Right,” recalls Rose. “And doesn’t this place have an oil furnace?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Ja,” he acknowledges. “Ze tank iz in ze basement. But … are you suggesting zat vee blow up ze house?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “It matches the intel,” she responds, “and it might give us a chance. Maybe our best one.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n Looking around the group she prompts, “But I’m open to other suggestions.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n The group continues to ponder the problem but other than a few unlikely booby traps there are no better ideas. Cornelius and Arti grow increasingly apprehensive as their options grow thin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Eventually Cornelius concedes, “Vell zen, if vee are to proceed in zis direction zen I must call ze owners. Such a plan cannot go ahead wizout zeir express approval. But, my goodness, vat vill I tell zem?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n The rhetorical question delivered, he once again excuses himself from the conversation to make his phone call. The rest of the group immediately begin discussing the construction and execution of their countermeasures.<\/p>\n\n\n\n By the time the itemized checklist is ready, Cornelius has returned with a solemn nod of confirmation. The plan is moving ahead but he insists that, “Zere are a few sings zey asked us to save. Vee must honour zis reqvest.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n While Cornelius and Arti set about gathering the owners’ cherished items, Elvis and Mirabelle line the lawnmower shed with tin foil followed by heavy curtains, towels, blankets, pillows, any other shock-absorbing materials they can find. It’s generally agreed that this may help to thwart electromagnetic and optical scanning equipment while hiding the heat signatures of whatever is inside. They also believe that it’s their best bet for surviving the ensuing oil tank explosion. It’s given the impromptu name “bunker”.<\/p>\n\n\n\n As this part of the plan comes together, Rose locates a toolbox and uses its contents to disassemble the shed’s lawnmower. The spark plug is located and the wire leading to the plug is spliced together with a long electrical cord. The setup is tested a few times using the mower’s ripcord.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In the meantime, Brock carries a couple of sturdy and nearly full fuel canisters from the shed to the culvert at the foot of the driveway. On the way he spots a sleek, muscular, matte black motorcycle with a prominent Triumph logo parked on the gravel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Nice ride,” he remarks, tipping his head toward the impressive machine as Rose arrives to join him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Right? She’s the inspiration for this little surprise<\/em>,” she replies as sets down the toolbox in front of her, flips the lid open, and begins to fish around inside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “How’s that?” inquires Brock.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “I learned as much as I could before I got her. After that I took her apart, reassembled her … I don’t even know how many times. This thing here” — she nods toward the canisters — “should do what a basic internal combustion engine does, just with a lot more fuel.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n She extracts a roll of electrical tape from the toolbox, dangles the spark plug by its attached cord into the mouth of one of the containers, and begins to seal the joined pair into place. At the same time Brock wedges the second gas can between the rocks of the culvert and piles more rocks on either side.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The canister with Rose’s handiwork is carefully wedged in beside its twin and the cable connected to the spark plug is carefully fed back to the ripcord assembly behind the shed. More rocks are placed around the improvised device after which one final trip is made to cover the electrical cord over with dirt, gravel, and leaves.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “I don’t think it’ll destroy any cars,” cautions Rose, “but if they’re standing on top of that thing then maybe it’ll collapse the pipe under them. It should at least keep them from coming in or leaving. Which reminds me…”<\/p>\n\n\n\n She quickly makes her way over to her motorbike with the toolbox and removes the license plate, then proceeds to strenuously push the machine over the lawn toward the shed. There the vehicle is rolled out of view and covered over with branches.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In the house, Rebekah and Dominic are busy placing blankets and other coverings over the basement and first floor windows. The results are patchy and ugly but the aim isn’t to completely block all light, just to hide the the presence of a subterranean fire for as long as possible.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Working alongside them, Dmitri pushes newspapers, wooden items, books, and loose papers beneath the heating oil tank. A few rusty nails and a hammer are placed nearby, ready to be used to pierce the large container when the time comes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n During his search for other flammable items, he discovers a couple of squat propane tanks beneath a covered barbecue. These are removed and one is wedged under the oil tank, the other between the tank and the wall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Insurance definitely<\/em> won’t cover this,” says Dmitri to himself as he inspects the setup.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Having decided that the Section don’t have enough time to perform a thorough search of their luggage, nearly everything that they brought with them, including the pod, will have to stay in the house and face destruction.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Only the valuable contents of Rebekah’s leather bag are extracted, carefully examined, and placed into a black briefcase found in one of the upstairs bedrooms. Dmitri proposes that he hold on to the case, arguing that he’s as a good a candidate for the job as anyone. After all, he states, Rebekah had taught them all the relevant codes in the file.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Not all of them,” she cautions, “but you know enough. Keep that stuff safe.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n He accepts with a solemn nod.<\/p>\n\n\n\n After swiftly washing up, everyone changes into clean, well-inspected clothes and heads to the kitchen for a quick meal. During the hasty dinner, Rose takes the opportunity to show everyone the wireless surveillance system she’d set up around the property at the behest of Arti and Cornelius.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “I did it before I left for Thailand,” explains Rose. “If we hang the router out a second floor window we should be able to get a signal by the shed,” she advises as she cycles through the live video feeds on her mobile phone. “See? The cameras are good in the dark and we’ve got all four directions covered, so unless they parachute in or tunnel under the house we should be able to see them coming.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n Shortly after finishing up, everyone evacuates to the “bunker”. There they’ve set up four folding aluminum chairs, the only ones they could find within the tiny structure.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mirabelle stands smoking calmly off to the side. Rose leans against the door frame of the tiny hut, watching the cycling surveillance video on her phone. Brock stands and observes the footage next to her. Dominic idles nearby watching the main driveway while Dmitri examines the shadows of the shed for a place to temporarily hide the briefcase. Elvis is performing a closed-eye breathing exercise in his seat next to Rebekah who is staring silently into empty space.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Zey are not happy,” recalls Cornelius, explaining his recent phone call as he settles into a chair next to Arti. “Not at all. But I haff told zem ze situation und zey understand zat zis is now very likely much larger zan just us, a matter of life und des perhaps. A rendezvous has been set once vee haff lost our pursuers. Before zen, vee must do our best to identify zem. Zis vill be tricky.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n A few moments later, Rose alerts everyone to what she is seeing on her phone’s screen. They look like headlights, more than one set, approaching their location from the south.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Zis is certainly unusual,” analyzes Cornelius. “Vee are lucky if vee haff sree cars on zis road in a veek.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “We should take our places,” states Dominic. “Mister and missus Heinrich, where are the matches kept again?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “You should find matches and a barbecue lighter in the drawer next to the sink,” instructs Arti. “The bottom one next to the entrance.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “That’s fine,” accepts Dominic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Having earlier assumed the role of the fire starter, he now prepares to head back to the house, mentally rehearsing the next steps. Elvis prepares to accompany Dominic as an early-warning lookout. He can run pretty fast, he argues.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Here,” says Rose, handing her phone to Elvis, “you’ll need this more than us. The cameras rotate once every ten seconds but you can skip each one by swiping like this…”<\/p>\n\n\n\n She demonstrates the action on the device as Elvis observes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “How come this one’s all black?” he asks, noting one camera that shows nothing but darkness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Hmm,” she ponders. “It was fine just a minute ago. Maybe something’s blocking it, a leaf or something. I’ll go check it out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Be right back,” she assures the group as she walks past them and in the direction of the field. Her silhouette is swiftly dissolved into the shadows.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “No lies, I’m shitting my pants a little,” admits Dominic, looking around at the group. “If something happens to me…”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “No,” Mirabelle interrupts him abruptly. “I will go. I am able to escape more easy. Zis is much better idea.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n Dominic gazes at his protege with concern. “Mira, we can’t ask you to go in there. We don’t know what we’re dealing with here. These people could…”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “You can’t ask,” she cuts him off a second time, “but I will tell. I am ze best in all ze Section for zis mission. You know siz. And I am ze best at using a lighter.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n She pulls a small, green, plastic lighter from her pocket and dangles it from her fingers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n As Dominic begins a wordless rebuttal, Brock chimes in. “She’s got a point. We’ve seen her in action. If anyone can just waltz their way back out of there at the last second, it’s Mira by a mile.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n Dominic falls silent. After brief consideration, he nods a reluctant assent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Without hesitation, Mirabelle affirms with an, “Okay,” spins around, and begins walking toward the house. With a look of determination on his face, Elvis follows.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The pair exchange some hushed words on their way back to the house and then split up, Elvis heading to the bottom of the gravel driveway and Mirabelle to the rear entrance of the house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Fuck,” intones Dominic as he watches them go, visible lines of apprehension etching into his face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n At this, the remaining group move into the shed. Brock pauses a moment as he begins to close the doors behind him. “Rose is still out there,” he says, gazing out into the murk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “She knows how to knock,” assures Cornelius as he helps to pull in the door, abandoning the foggy backyard to the sounds of crickets and rustling foliage.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Elvis takes his position at the end of the driveway and peers intently down the country road. It seemed a lot less menacing when they’d arrived on it, now it’s just looming, alien darkness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The zoom on the security cameras make the faraway headlights seem closer than they are but Elvis can now observe the occasional twinkle of the approaching beams with his own eyes. He simultaneously swipes through the cameras, watching for additional signs of movement on the periphery.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In the basement, Mirabelle smokes another cigarette as she waits for Elvis’ word. As she exhales, she looks coolly at her surroundings and remarks, “\u00c7a va \u00eatre le feu.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n Inside the shed and illuminated by the beam of a slim flashlight, a worried Cornelius questions Dominic. “Are you sure she vill be safe?” asks the older man. “She does not look very assletic or strong.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Mira’s neither,” explains Dominic, “but I’m pretty sure she can actually dodge bullets if she wants to. Elvis, though, might be another story.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “He’ll be okay,” remarks Dmitri. “That kid is<\/em> athletic and strong. He just needs to make sure he gets away before any bullets start flying.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “How about Rose?” he says, turning to Arti and Cornelius.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Arti smiles and notes, “I assure you that she is capable of taking care of herself. Consider, for example, that the Bangkok operation was almost entirely her doing, from planning to execution. She was already quite astute when we met her but working with the agency has, to put it in her own words, expanded her horizons<\/em>.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n Despite the assurances, the conversation slips into foreboding silence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Outside, Rose is trying to find the wireless surveillance camera. She recalls having zip tied it to the old wooden fence at the edge of the property but the lack of light is making her search extremely difficult. She is feeling around the cracked wood of an aged post when she suddenly hears a crunch nearby.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She instantly ducks, freezes, and begins to breathe as shallowly and silently as possible.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Peering out in the direction of the sound, Rose spots a dim red point of light moving through the mist. It’s bobbing up and down at about knee level, slowly and silently making its way toward the house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Hoping that she hasn’t been spotted, she quietly backtracks to a fallen tree trunk and lies flat behind it, occasionally popping her head up to confirm the direction of the slowly-vanishing red dot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Shit shit shit,” she mouths silently as she watches it move.<\/p>\n\n\n\n By the culvert, Elvis is also starting to feel increasingly anxious. The approaching headlights have stopped in between the road’s liberally spaced street lamps and then, about few seconds ago, the vehicles went dark.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In the grainy surveillance camera feed, Elvis is able to make out two black SUVs from which emerge at least four shadowy figures dressed in bulky clothing, hoisting up what look like carbines or maybe assault rifles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He instantly breaks into a sprint toward the house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Shoving the front door open, he scrambles downstairs where Mirabelle stands, unhurriedly finishing her cigarette. “They’re here,” he exclaims, “and they’re armed! Like, with guns!”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Zen it is time,” responds Mirabelle with a nearly imperceptible smile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She tosses the cigarette butt to the ground and grinds it out with the heel of her shoe. Then she extracts the plastic lighter from her pocket, leans down, and places it beneath the most prominent wad of newspaper peeking out from beneath the oil tank. With habitual abandon, she flicks the flint wheel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Nothing happens.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She tries again. Then again. And again. Still no flame.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Hmm,” she intones calmly as she examines the lighter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n With evident agitation, Elvis asks, “Is it not working?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “It iz strange,” she answers. “I ‘ave just use it.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n She holds the lighter up to one of the low-hanging basement lights. Deeming the fluid level in the small device to be sufficient, she shakes it vigorously and then flicks the wheel again. There is still no flame.<\/p>\n\n\n\n As she continues in vain to try to start the fire, a nearly panicked Elvis runs up to the first floor. There he begins a frenzied search through cupboards and drawers for matches, lighters … anything that could start a fire. Suddenly remembering Arti’s words, he searches the bottom drawer nearest the main entrance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He manically rips the contents out of the wooden receptacle but finds nothing even remotely useful. In a desperate flash of inspiration, he turns on the elements of the main stove and runs back to the basement to grab a stick, a wad of paper, anything flammable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Continuing unsuccessfully to try her lighter, a mildly confused Mirabelle watches him swoop in, snatch one of the twisted newspapers from the pile, and wordlessly dash out with it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Back in the kitchen, Elvis paces restlessly as he waits for the electric elements to heat up, all the while mindlessly squeezing the mass of paper in his hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Suddenly, the lights around him go out. The power light on the stove is also dark. Looking around him in disbelief, Elvis notes only a dim glow coming from the basement.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The blackout is clearly limited to just the first floor of the house. He’s fairly certain that it’s probably just a tripped breaker but he also knows it might be a fuse, meaning he might need to find a replacement. Before he can even worry about that, though, he’ll first need to find the breaker box.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Fuck me<\/em>!” he cries as he runs back downstairs for a third time. “No matches and no lighter and now the power’s gone out! We can’t even use the stove!”<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mirabelle stands up and with an eerie calm and responds, “My lighter also seem to ‘ave finish. So maybe now we ‘ave problem.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “No shit!” bursts out Elvis with agitation. He begins a frantic search for the breaker box as Mirabelle watches him with detachment, feebly continuing to try her lighter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Elvis,” she says after a few moments, “zis is bad time for joke.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “What the hell are you talking about?” replies the young man indignantly, sweat trickling from his brow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “You make fire,” she pronounces, pointing to the compressed papers he’s been mindlessly squeezing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He gazes down and notices a thick curl of smoke rising from the end of the wad.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “What the… ?” he asks in a dazed shock.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Quickly,” instructs Mirabelle, holding up a closed fist and blowing air over it through puckered lips.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Elvis does as she demonstrates and very soon a small flame jumps up from the bundle in his hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Okay, now…” she continues, pointing to the kindling beneath the oil tank.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Understanding her directions, Elvis urgently makes his way to the pile of flammable material and begins to set the edges on fire.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “But … how?” he questions as he moves.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Maybe,” posits Mirabelle as she uses a hammer to drive one of the nails into the large container, “if you can move sings vis your mind zen maybe you can make fire vis your mind also.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n Elvis freezes for a moment, his mouth stuck in a “W” as he ponders her suggestion.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “We keep going, yeah?” she urges him forward.<\/p>\n\n\n\n With a vigorous nod, he recovers and resumes setting fire at key points as Mirabelle continues to hammer nails into the tank. With Elvis’ task quickly finished she begins pulling the nails out. The viscous red liquid inside the oblong drum spills out onto the floor and slowly inches toward the flames.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In a few moments the entire area has erupted into a fierce inferno while the pair hurriedly make their way back upstairs and out through the rear door. Just as they prepare to sprint across the backyard toward the shed, a man steps out of the shadows to block their path.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He’s dressed all in black: black boots, black cargo pants, black flak jacket with numerous heavily laden black pockets, black gloves, black helmet, black goggles, black paintball face mask, and two black crisscrossing bandoliers holding a variety of black equipment. He looks like something out of a first-person shooter and he’s holding a menacing looking rifle with an impressive scope mounted on top, both pointed directly at them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “House will go boom,” states Mirabelle, looking at the man as she juts a thumb over her shoulder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Well then you’ve made a stupid fucking mistake, haven’t you?” responds the man, his voice robotically disguised by some device in the mask.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A second, similarly equipped man appears from around the corner of the house. He’s holding a slightly smaller but no less menacing machine gun, also drawn and ready.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Elvis, do you remember what I say to you?” she says, maintaining eye contact with the first mercenary as she swivels her head in Elvis’ direction.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Yeah,” he responds firmly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Not far away, Brock is peering through a small opening in the blankets lining the shed. He watches as the two men converge on their targets.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “What’s happening?” whispers Rebekah over his shoulder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He turns around and responds, “Fog’s making it hard to see but it looks like two soldier-looking guys. Special ops maybe, with big guns. I dunno. They’ve got Elvis and Mira.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Let me have a look,” she insists.<\/p>\n\n\n\n As she begins to navigate her way through the cramped space, a sudden and deafening thud slams into the side of small structure, instantly knocking it over and burying its inhabitants under corrugated tin, plywood, foam insulation, and torn fabric.<\/p>\n\n\n\n With ears ringing, Dominic is the first to recover from the explosion. Seeing that Brock is also stirring, he whispers, “I need to check on Mira and Elvis. Keep everyone quiet and make sure they stay put, okay? We have no idea how many more of them there are out there. No sense in all of us getting caught out.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n Brock hisses back a confirmation and the ex-boxer begins a slow and careful process of covertly extricating himself from the rubble. In a few moments, he’s silently slipped out from beneath the flattened wreck. Crouching, he looks around.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The fog is mixed with thick and oily smoke. It’s nearly impossible to see more than a couple of meters in any direction but occasionally visible tongues of flame allow Dominic to orient himself. Still crouching, he slowly begins to move toward the fire.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Three steps in, an assertively robotic voice behind him commands, “Just stop right there! Stand up and hands up, nice and high where I can see ’em.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n The sound of a cocking mechanism and the metallic tinkle of a round being chambered causes Dominic to freeze.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Ain’t got all day, sunshine,” directs the voice again. “I said stand up and hands up! Now!”<\/p>\n\n\n\n Quickly stealing a glance behind him, Dominic does as instructed. He’s immediately chastised for his brief transgression. “Don’t ever fucking turn around unless I give you permission, got it?!” demands the voice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Got it,” responds Dominic loudly and resolutely. “I’m ready to comply.”<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" As night wraps itself around the home, a hazy mist settles over the surroundings giving them a surreal and dreamlike quality. In juxtaposition, a focused discussion is taking place inside by the clear light of electric lamps. The tension in the “boathouse” is palpable. In a brief aside it’s decided that the personnel at the … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[11],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-8815","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-chapter-7"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.torontocitylife.com\/sectionb\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8815","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.torontocitylife.com\/sectionb\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.torontocitylife.com\/sectionb\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.torontocitylife.com\/sectionb\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.torontocitylife.com\/sectionb\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=8815"}],"version-history":[{"count":760,"href":"https:\/\/www.torontocitylife.com\/sectionb\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8815\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":12200,"href":"https:\/\/www.torontocitylife.com\/sectionb\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8815\/revisions\/12200"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.torontocitylife.com\/sectionb\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=8815"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.torontocitylife.com\/sectionb\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=8815"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.torontocitylife.com\/sectionb\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=8815"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}