Background
Is Anderson a gallant knight? Can he recover Shana's family's stolen relics and heal the wounds of genocide?
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ENDING OF PREVIOUS POST:
"Showtime!" Marc motioned his men into position. "Mr. Sharp, move into the hallway. You'll be the last defense to Ms. Kohlberg."
He nodded and positioned himself. I should've added more security. I never thought they'd attack a condo in the middle of Chicago. This isn't going to help Shana's nightmares. He heard a bang and commotion. They're inside. How many? When are the perimeter men showing up? Four minutes were up long ago. What's going on? Take a breath and remember your training. Patience.
One bang echoed, and then moments later a second crack.
Who shot who? Anderson heard feet coming his direction. Silence. Hesitant steps. He aimed his weapon. He tilted his head at the cadence of brat tat, brat tat, brat tat. An assault weapon, probably Russian. The living room's in shambles. SCHLIK! His bullet's in the chamber. Where is he? He scanned the hall as he held his breath. He's close. I can almost hear him breathing. He wiped his nose. I hope Shana doesn't get the whiff of gunsmoke.
The figure moved. Anderson shot. The man fell.
At least one down. Now what? He crept forward at the sound of shuffling bodies. Fighting? He heard a thud.
"Clear!" yelled a man.
"Clear!" yelled a second man.
"Clear!" yelled Marc. "Mr. Sharp, we're clear."
Anderson knelt over the body. No pulse. He continued to the living room. "How many?"
"Four." Marc paused as he listened to his walkie-talkie. "Three outside. The police are on their way. What about Ms. Kohlberg?"
"We need to keep her out of this." Anderson removed his cell and tapped keys. "Philip, we need a room for tonight." He listened. "Does Jeff know what happened, yet?" Again, he listened. "Figured. I haven't seen Shana. I'll check on her in a minute."
After hanging up, he addressed Marc, "It seems the electrical lines were sabotaged."
Marc chuckled. "Ya think? We've already figured out that much." He studied the bodies. "And I bet I know who did it."
*****
Anderson knocked softly on the bedroom door where Shana waited. "It's me. Can I come in?"
"Yes," came a whisper.
As Anderson opened the door, he shone a flashlight into the room and saw Shana had moved the chair to a corner and tears streamed down her cheeks. He knelt beside her and placed his arms around her. "I'm so sorry."
TODAY'S POST:
Chapter 20 part 4
A few minutes later, Marc walked partway down the hall and stood outside the door of the room where Shana had hidden. "Mr. Sharp, the police have questions."
"Be right there." Anderson stood. "It's all over except the clean-up. I want you to wait here. There's no reason for you to be involved with the police. I'll be back as soon as possible." He paused. "It's okay to use the flashlight. It's safe. You don't need to sit in the dark." He turned to leave.
"Drew?" Shana turned on the flashlight.
He turned and faced her as he opened the door. "Hopefully, this won't take long. Philip's booking us a hotel. We'll leave soon."
Almost two hours later, Anderson returned.
Shana stood as he entered the room and she asked, "Is it over?"
"This part is, but Kuznetsov isn't stopped, yet."
"I don't want the painting. Contact him and tell him that I give up."
"In the morning, I'll call Gaines and have him relay the message."
"It's already morning."
Anderson grinned. "You're right, but I doubt he's up." He paused before he continued, "Gather your things. We're going to a hotel. The limo will arrive in about thirty minutes."
"Okay, but..."
He guided Shana to the room where she'd slept. Marc waited in the hall. As Anderson passed him, he said, "Pack my things. I'll help her."
Marc nodded and left.
"I can pack myself."
"I know, but I don't want to leave you alone."
After they had packed and the call came that the limousine waited outside, Anderson put his arm around Shana's waist and drew her close as security circled them with weapons readied, and they got inside the vehicle. The same routine happened when they arrived at the hotel.
As Anderson prepared to secure the hotel door, he nodded at Marc, who had his men in position. When he turned, he noticed Shana staring at the two beds and asked, "You want the one on the right or the left?"
"Do you have any idea how many commandments we've broken tonight?" Shana shook her head.
"I know of at least four." He motioned to the beds and glanced at his watch. "There's about three hours, maybe we can stretch it to four before we need to be at the hospital. I vote we pray for forgiveness and get some sleep."
Shana released a deep breath.
"Why don't you change? I'll wait outside. Knock on the door when you're ready." Anderson left.
After completing her nighttime routine, Shana knocked, ran, and leaped onto the bed. Being slightly off-balance, she slipped onto the floor.
"What were you doing?" Anderson helped her off the floor.
"Do you really want to know?" After he raised an eyebrow, she said, "I guess I owe you an explanation. I was hoping to jump into bed so you wouldn't see me in my pajamas."
He grinned. "I saw your pajamas last night."
Her cheeks tinged pink. "I didn't want to make it two nights in a row."
"I see. Well, I guess we messed up that plan." Anderson grinned as he pulled down the covers. "Crawl in bed." He tucked her in. "See you in the morning." He grabbed some things from his suitcase and headed toward the bathroom.
"Drew?" After he turned around, Shana continued, "While I was hiding from the gunfire, I thought this is what my ancestors must have felt like hiding from the Nazis." She blew out a deep breath. "Thank you for all you've done for Sarah and me."
"I don't know what to say."
"There's nothing to say. You had nothing to do with the genocide." Her lips formed a slight smile. "Again, thank you."
Anderson took a step toward her and stopped. "You're welcome. It's nothing special. Anybody would've done it. It's the right thing to do." He continued to the bathroom and closed the door.
Characters so far:
Shana Kohlberg -- a 25 year old high school English literature teacher -- she's trying to get her family's painting back
Anderson Sharp -- often called Drew -- 31 years old -- works part-time on Wall Street -- a billionaire from Texas oil wells
Dmitry Bezrukov -- one of three Russian men in black suits
Jeff Burk -- takes care of Anderson's cars and important security details.
Helen -- Anderson's cook
Jane -- Anderson's housekeeper
Philip -- Anderson's butler -- close friend and confident
Kyle -- Anderson's dog walker
Axel -- Anderson's lead German shepherd
Thor -- Anderson's second German shepherd
Romeo -- Anderson's third German shepherd
Aaron Kohlberg -- Shana's older brother
Ivan Kuznetsov -- formally Ivan Morozov, I accidently chose a real person, so I have changed it present day owner of the painting.
Patricia -- Anderson's ex-wife
Emily -- Anderson's five year old daughter
Isaiah Glassberg -- Anderson divorce/custody attorney.
Jeremy -- Jane's second-cousin twice removed, NYC undercover cop.
Hannah Jacobs -- Shana's cousin, the same age and best friend. Married within the past year and just had a baby, Sarah. Her husband, Paul. Sarah was just diagnosed with Tay-Sachs disease.
Joshua Colton -- Art Museum's curator
Benjamin Kohlberg -- Shana's father
Eliana Kohlberg - - Shana's mother
Maxwell Gaines -- Lawyer hired to retrieve the painting
Erich Berger -- Manager of the Dorotheum art auction house in Austria
Mary Pritchard -- The lady Anderson hired to help Hannah while she's in Boston with Sarah.
Author Notes
Thank you Google Images for an image of maybe what Anderson may look like. I had a photo of a boring hotel room, but decided against it at the last minute. Once again,not only did I made last minute changes I rewrote the ending. I hope I didn't make it worse. Often when I make corrections, I leave in an extra word or leave one out.
As I've mentioned, I struggle writing action. I've made changes in last weeks post. The lead into this weeks is a little longer because I included the area where I made the changes. I'm open for any suggestions. I know many of you write much better ones. Again, thank you for all the support you give my writing.
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