CHAPTER 91 Polermo
Polermo
INSIDE THE RENTED SINGLE-STORY house, former army lieutenant J. T. Polermo assembles his arsenal and plans another getaway. He doesn’t know if the burning car in the approach road was a lone invader or the scout for a larger assault team, but he can’t take any chances.
He peeks through his living-room window with a night-vision spotting scope and sees two figures moving away from the burning vehicle. One he recognizes. The other, a very tall Black man, he does not. But he has a feeling about who sent them.
He lowers the top frame on a double-hung window and knocks out the screen, then shoulders an automatic rifle and rests it on the frame. He fires off a quick burst and watches the men drop. He waits for return fire.
Nothing.
Polermo hurries into a vestibule, pulls out a camo duffel, and removes a brick of C-4, one of many in his collection.
He slings the bag and his rifle over his shoulder, goes to the kitchen, unwinds a length of det cord, and sticks the end into the C-4.
He opens the stove and puts the explosive inside, then turns all the gas valves to high.
The room fills with the odor of mercaptan.
Polermo unspools the det cord and trails it behind him to the back door. There, he pulls out a Bic lighter and holds the flame to the end of the det cord until it starts to sizzle. Then he shoves the back door open and heads for the woods.
Escape and evade.