dressed in a cheap suit just like his partner downstairs. The back of his head was flat as well. What the hell was going on? Who were these people? Why were there Russians in the house?
Ralston’s questions were interrupted by the sound of a sharp crack from inside Salomon’s bedroom. It wasn’t the crack of a pistol. It was the crack of molding as drywall was being ripped away.
It told him two things. Salomon was still alive, but he had only seconds left to live.
CHAPTER 6
L arry Salomon had expected that a savvy intruder would probably cut his telephone hard line. That was why he always kept a charged cell phone in his panic room. A fixed external antenna had been installed to guarantee reception, but suddenly it wasn’t working either. He was panicked. No matter how many times he dialed 911, he couldn’t get through.
He’d been around enough weapons, even if only on movie sets where blanks were being fired, to know what real gunshots sounded like. Suppressed gunshots, contrary to what many people thought, were still audible. There was no such thing as completely silenced gunfire.
Having changed out of his evening attire, Salomon had been on his way out of his bedroom and back downstairs for one final drink, when he’d heard the first shot. He’d stood paralyzed, wondering what he’d actually heard. Then the second shot came. That’s when he knew.
He had turned and fled back to the master bedroom. He didn’t dare waste even a fraction of a second looking over his shoulder to see if he was being followed. He didn’t need to. His animal instinct for survival told him that he most definitely had someone pursuing him. He also knew that the two gunshots meant his houseguests were dead.
Charging into his walk-in closet cum panic room, he slammed the heavy metal door shut, threw the bolts home, and hit the panic button for the alarm system. He expected the high-pitched piercing shriek of the alarm to kick in instantly. It didn’t, and his fear mounted.
On a small monitor mounted inside the closet, he watched via the hidden bedroom camera as a large man with a gun rushed into the room just behind him. He pressed the panic button again and when the alarm failed to engage, he attempted to call the police, only to discover that neither his landline nor his cell phone were working.
He then watched as the intruder attempted to kick in the closet door. Again and again he kicked, but the steel-reinforced door held. Finally, the man turned and walked out of view. Had he given up?
Salomon’s question was answered when the man passed back under the camera a moment later with a fireplace tool and disappeared from view once again.
The producer strained to see what the man was up to, but the monitor provided only a very limited field of view. The security system, like the panic room, had come with the house and had been installed by the previous owner. Salomon had never really thought about it much. It was only now that he realized that a pan-and-tilt camera would have been infinitely more useful than a static, fixed lens.
It was at that moment that all the power went out. With the phone line cut and his cell phone signal having somehow been jammed, Salomon wasn’t surprised when the emergency generator failed to kick in. Whoever had cut the power knew what he was doing. He was now effectively blind.
He wasn’t, however, deaf, and his heart soon choked his throat when he figured out where the intruder was and what he was doing with the fireplace poker.
The first thud had been somewhat displaced, but Salomon locked on to the second swing of the poker like a sonar operator.
The sounds had come from the far end of the closet. On the other side was the master bath. Using the poker, the intruder was clawing his way through the drywall and into what really wasn’t a true panic room, but rather just a closet with a very heavy door.
It was a poorly thought out feature that provided a false sense of security and
Ralston’s questions were interrupted by the sound of a sharp crack from inside Salomon’s bedroom. It wasn’t the crack of a pistol. It was the crack of molding as drywall was being ripped away.
It told him two things. Salomon was still alive, but he had only seconds left to live.
CHAPTER 6
L arry Salomon had expected that a savvy intruder would probably cut his telephone hard line. That was why he always kept a charged cell phone in his panic room. A fixed external antenna had been installed to guarantee reception, but suddenly it wasn’t working either. He was panicked. No matter how many times he dialed 911, he couldn’t get through.
He’d been around enough weapons, even if only on movie sets where blanks were being fired, to know what real gunshots sounded like. Suppressed gunshots, contrary to what many people thought, were still audible. There was no such thing as completely silenced gunfire.
Having changed out of his evening attire, Salomon had been on his way out of his bedroom and back downstairs for one final drink, when he’d heard the first shot. He’d stood paralyzed, wondering what he’d actually heard. Then the second shot came. That’s when he knew.
He had turned and fled back to the master bedroom. He didn’t dare waste even a fraction of a second looking over his shoulder to see if he was being followed. He didn’t need to. His animal instinct for survival told him that he most definitely had someone pursuing him. He also knew that the two gunshots meant his houseguests were dead.
Charging into his walk-in closet cum panic room, he slammed the heavy metal door shut, threw the bolts home, and hit the panic button for the alarm system. He expected the high-pitched piercing shriek of the alarm to kick in instantly. It didn’t, and his fear mounted.
On a small monitor mounted inside the closet, he watched via the hidden bedroom camera as a large man with a gun rushed into the room just behind him. He pressed the panic button again and when the alarm failed to engage, he attempted to call the police, only to discover that neither his landline nor his cell phone were working.
He then watched as the intruder attempted to kick in the closet door. Again and again he kicked, but the steel-reinforced door held. Finally, the man turned and walked out of view. Had he given up?
Salomon’s question was answered when the man passed back under the camera a moment later with a fireplace tool and disappeared from view once again.
The producer strained to see what the man was up to, but the monitor provided only a very limited field of view. The security system, like the panic room, had come with the house and had been installed by the previous owner. Salomon had never really thought about it much. It was only now that he realized that a pan-and-tilt camera would have been infinitely more useful than a static, fixed lens.
It was at that moment that all the power went out. With the phone line cut and his cell phone signal having somehow been jammed, Salomon wasn’t surprised when the emergency generator failed to kick in. Whoever had cut the power knew what he was doing. He was now effectively blind.
He wasn’t, however, deaf, and his heart soon choked his throat when he figured out where the intruder was and what he was doing with the fireplace poker.
The first thud had been somewhat displaced, but Salomon locked on to the second swing of the poker like a sonar operator.
The sounds had come from the far end of the closet. On the other side was the master bath. Using the poker, the intruder was clawing his way through the drywall and into what really wasn’t a true panic room, but rather just a closet with a very heavy door.
It was a poorly thought out feature that provided a false sense of security and
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