I screwed on the long SD silencer and held it down at my side.I opened the door and said, "Who are you?" standing squarely in the way. The goons made faces but stood back."Vanderhoff," he said, his face crimson, "J. Walter Vanderhoff, undersecretary of state. Where's my daughter?" Deputy under secretary," I said. "Let me see your ID."I pulled out his laminated ID card on its cord and I examined it, looking up in his face a couple of times. I handed it back and stepped aside."Go get her," he said loudly as the two men quickly entered behind him, pushing me aside. I raised my big pistol with its huge silencer, yelled, "Stop!" and then said, "Sit on the floor and give me your guns." One lunged at me and my pistol coughed and his knee exploded. He fell on his face, clawing at the floor tiles. The other one pulled his Glock from under his shoulder, and I shot him squarely in the middle of his chest. He staggered back from the slug's blow and slid down the wall, looking surprised, eyes. It was a hot Saturday afternoon when I met Julie and her twenty-five-year-old husband, Mike. We were attending a CB (Citizen Band Radio) get together in north central Arizona. Those gatherings were known as CB Breaks. They were meant to allow CBers from a large geographical area to get to know one another and get a look at the latest radio gear. The larger Breaks like this one had numerous radio equipment venders. Some of the larger clubs would also set up displays to attract new members. Mike and Julie were attending their first Break. They had gotten an inexpensive radio just a few weeks earlier. They were just beginning to meet other CBers with whom they had chatted over the air. They were hanging out with some old friends of mine when I arrived. So I joined the group too. Soon, other friends joined us. We had become a fairly large group as we strolled the display areas. As evening approached, we were all hot, tired, and hungry. The group agreed to meet at a local diner before.
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