With the desperation of a drowning swimmer, Alicia Rickhoff fluttered open her eyes. Her arched fingers clawed at the vestiges of the nightmare evaporating from her awareness. Half-sobbing, she shied from focus on the dark images rapidly retreating towards her subconscious. Anxiously, she rolled onto her left side, groping blindly for the reassurance of her husband’s hand. Emptiness met her frantic grasping.

She blinked away the last tatters of dream-memory and sat up in bed, the crisply white sheets bunching across her lap. For a long moment, she stared at the empty place where her husband of forty-five years should have been. Silver light from the waning moon filtered through the window sheers and washed across the space she occupied alone.

Her lips firmed into a hard line. A silent beat passed. Inhaling a deep breath, she yanked aside the rumpled sheets and swung her legs over the bed’s edge. She paused there, head dropping briefly to her chest before she rose, crossed the room, and flicked on the overhead lights, squinting as her vision adjusted to the yellow-white illumination.

Grabbing her thin yellow cotton bathrobe from the dressing table chair, she walked barefoot into the hallway. Plush carpet swallowed the sound of her steps as she trudged towards the broad, spiral staircase. Gentle night lights glowed on the wall, seeking without success to dominate their celestial competitor peering in through the bank of tall windows dominating the atrium walls.

Her fingertips gliding with familiar ease along the wooden banister, Alicia descended the steps and wended her way into the large kitchen that occupied one corner of her newly remodeled mansion. As her palm pressed against the light pad just inside the doorway, she lifted her gaze and froze.

Opposite her, just emerging from the hallway leading to her husband’s office, a tall figure emulated her posture. Clad all in black, the intruder slowly straightened, the mask that concealed his face shadowing barely visible eyes.

Alicia’s body refused even to gasp, the normal flow of air clogged in her lungs. Like a slowly melting sculpture, her right hand drifted towards her side.

The preternaturally loud ticking of the antique clock above the stove counted out the seconds. A half dozen. Twice again.

Soundlessly, the stranger retreated, blending into the darkness behind him. The precise moment he vanished, Alicia could not discern. Only the abrupt knowledge of her hammering heart confirmed that she was, once again. alone.

#

Stark light flooded the house. Police and detectives and forensic officials streamed past Alicia, each engrossed in his or her own mission of delineated responsibility. Only the young man seated in the chair across the coffee table from her remained focused on the reason for all the early morning activity.

Slumped on the supple leather of the living room couch, Alicia clasped and unclasped her hands as she patiently answered the detective’s follow-up questions.

“All I know,” she said for the third time, “is that if he had taken a single step in my direction rather than away from me, I would have screamed myself hoarse.”

The detective glanced at the small screen in his left palm and tapped at something hidden from Alicia. “Now, you said you called immediately after the ––”

A deeply male voice shouting from the entryway interrupted the interrogation. As the sound grew louder and more distinct, Alicia’s eyes narrowed. Stiffening her back, she hugged herself and half-turned towards the source of the alarmed tones.

With a brusque authority cultivated by years of command, Sal Rickhoff brushed aside the officers impeding his progress.

“Alicia!” He knelt beside her, his brows furrowed, his hands groping futilely for those of his wife. “I came from the art gallery as soon as I heard the news.” Searching her face, he said, “Why didn’t you call me yourself?” He glanced at the people hovering in the background. “Damned incompetent police! Took forever to alert me.”

Alicia dug her fingers more firmly into her sides. The muscles in her jaws bunched as tears blurred her gaze. With a sharp gesture, she brushed aside a lock of gray hair that had fallen across her eyes. “Damn you, Sal.” The words ground from between her teeth. “You promised to be home before midnight.”

Sal waved a hand. “I know, dear, but the opening ran lon––”

Alicia’s voice erupted in volume. “It’s almost dawn, you bastard!”

Her husband’s concerned expression hardened. Before he could reply, Alicia turned away. A sneer trembled through her words. “New security system, my ass! If you’d been where you were supposed to be instead of at yet another ‘gallery opening,’ I wouldn’t have had to face a burglar by myself.”

Sal’s mouth puckered as his gaze scanned the people who had invaded his sanctuary. Those nearest the homeowners studiously found other things to focus their attention upon.

“I’ll have that company’s license by tomorrow,” he said, biting off each word with brittle deliberation. “You shouldn’t have to ––”

Abruptly, Alicia stood, her small, age-spotted hands balled at her sides. “Quit blaming other people!” she yelled. “I’m sick of it. I’m sick of you!” She swept an arm in an all-inclusive gesture. “Just get the damned thing fixed. If you’re going to...” She swallowed the accusation. “The least you can do is keep me safe. In my own home!”

Savagely drawing her bathrobe tighter, Alicia turned to the detective who had been taking her information. In a steadier, calmer voice, she said, “We’ll have to continue this later, Detective. I’m exhausted. I need to get some sleep.”

The detective rose and nodded deferentially. His gaze danced for a second towards Sal. “Of course, Mrs. Rickhoff. Whenever you feel up to it.”

“Thank you.” As she passed her still-kneeling husband, Alicia said, “Perhaps the general can explain to you how his wondrous new security system failed so spectacularly.” Climbing the stairs, she did not look back at the chaos that had claimed her home.

#

Retired General Sal Rickhoff frowned. “The salesman from First Security ‘assured’ me, too, that his system could not be breached.” He glared at the squatting technician doing something mysterious with a confusion of wires protruding from the wall. “I saw how well that worked. Why should I trust Home Safe’s identical claim?”

The middle-aged man Home Safe had deployed to remove and replace the old system applied three of the wires to a multipurpose device. A small beep announced...something. The man –– a tag on his dark-blue uniform read “Derek” –– looked up without meeting Rickhoff’s eyes. A flat pseudo-smile accompanied his reply. “I’m sorry, General, that you had trouble with First Security. I can only imagine how distressing the incident was.”

“‘Distressing’!” Rickhoff laughed without humor. “Practically frightened my wife to death. The only positive thing about the whole affair was that Alicia scared him off before he could rob us blind.”

Derek nodded. “I’m happy that Mrs. Rickhoff wasn’t hurt.”

Rickhoff grew silent as he chewed on the technician’s words. The corners of his mouth drew back. “Hmm. Yes. Of course.” A notch appeared between his brows. “How long have you worked for Home Safe?” he asked, casually.

Derek peered at the readout and fiddled with more wires. “A bit over eight years.”

“And you’re an expert at systems like this?” Rickhoff’s tone sharpened. “I warned them: send me your best! Nothing else will do!”

A faint shrug moved the tech’s shoulders. “I don’t design ’em. I just install ’em.”

“But ––”

Derek spun on the ball of one booted foot and looked up at his customer. A more genuine smile curved his lips. “I know my boss and his design crew worked diligently to meet all your requirements. Motion and sound detectors. Alarms. Lasers. Locks. Biometrics. Top of the line stuff. Not to be immodest, but they picked me because I am good at what I do. Very good. Home Safe’s motto’s been accurate for as long as I’ve been working there.”

“Ah, yes. No successful break-ins. Ever.”

“Ever. So, please. Be assured. Once I’ve finished here, you can bring in any professional you like to check over our work. If any flaw is discovered, not only will we fix the flaw without charge, we will refund the entire cost of your system.”

Rickhoff lifted a brow. “Ever had to make good on that guarantee?”

Derek shook his head. “Nope. Never.” He waited. “So? Are we good here? If you’re not happy with my work, General, I can call Mr. Lawson and have him send in a different technician to finish.”

For a handful of seconds, Rickhoff considered the offer. Finally, he sniffed and waved a dismissive hand. “No. Go on. Do your job.”

“Okay.”

Rickhoff started to say something then changed his mind. “How much longer?”

“Hmm. I should have this up and running by early this evening.”

The general nodded. “Fine. Fine. See that you do,” he said firmly. But the technician had already returned to his task.

#

Half-heartedly, Alicia pushed around the remains of her largely untouched dinner with her gold-plated fork.

“Wonderful dinner, dear. Just superb. You’ve outdone yourself.” Sal topped off his fourth glass of red wine and eased into his chair.

Alicia smiled wanly, her shielded eyes lifting towards her husband’s florid face. “I’m glad you were able to join me for dinner. Dear. For once.”

Sal stopped with the glass halfway to his mouth. He regarded his wife for a moment then drank down half the wine. Deliberately, he replaced the crystal goblet on the silk tablecloth, twisting the stem a fraction before speaking.

“Are we really going to do this?” he said flatly.

“Do what?”

“Don’t...play coy with me.” The words came out more threat than request.

Alicia gulped her own wine, her slender fingers white on the glass’s stem. “I want you home when I need you. I want you to realize you are retired.” She hesitated. “I want you to act your age.”

“I see.” He tossed a hand into the air. “A general commanding tens of thousands of soldiers on beck-and-call for his wife. No problem.”

Despite her best intentions, Alicia heard her voice spiraling higher, more shrill and demanding. “No. I just want you to quit screwing women younger than our grandchildren!”

A runnel of tears flowed down the lines etched into Alicia’s face. “You don’t love me.”

Sobs shook Alicia. “Please, Sal. Don’t. Don’t say such things. Please...”

For a tense space, their relationship teetered in the air between them. Without a word, Sal strode away. Without looking back, he said, “I think I’ll skip dessert.”

In silence of her own, Alicia watched her husband disappear.

#

Unexpected pressure abruptly vanished from his nose. Eagerly he drew in precious oxygen.

“Good evening, General,” a deep, oddly familiar male voice said. The conversational tone of the stranger’s words arrested Rickhoff’s attention. He stiffened, tense and waiting for whatever came next, aware at last that a wide band of tape covered his mouth.

Footsteps sounded lightly on the polished oak floor, muffling as the man crossed the antique carpet covering the middle of the room. “You have quite a home here. Amazing artwork. Rare furniture. Exquisite workmanship. The finest material money can buy.” A wry chuckle. “Someone’s money, anyway.”

Rickhoff tried to talk through the tape. The muffled noise that emerged only infuriated him more. His attempt to bellow his outrage died stillborn in the quiet of the night.

“Calm down,” the man said sharply. “You’ll give yourself a stroke. Too soon for that.”

Pain seared Rickhoff’s face as the tape was ripped from his mouth, removing hair and skin along with it.

“Oh, do go on, General. Not that yelling will do you any good. Not this time.” The voice lowered in space to his level. “I’ve already taken care of your wife. Unfortunate in some ways, I suppose, given the punishment she’s had to endure living with you for so long. Her choice, though. When you lie down with dogs...”

“Who are you? What do you want?” Rickhoff choked, his throat dry and raw.

The voice drifted away. “I can tell you’ve really updated and upgraded the place. A lot different than when I lived here.”

“You? You couldn’t have lived here. All the people in this city di––...” A cloud of wary unease settled over Rickhoff.

Silence stretched. “You’re right, of course. Everyone in this city died when you attacked. They weren’t the only ones, of course. How many millions in how many places did you murder? Fifty? A hundred? Two hundred?”

Rickhoff swallowed. “It was war.”

“Well. You certainly attacked this nation. That’s true, at least.”

“Collateral damage. They could have surrendered.”

“Not my plan. I didn’t engineer those viruses. I simply passed on the scientists’ ideas to the chancellor and his advisers.”

The intruder rose. Subtly, Rickhoff tested the cords binding his arms and legs. They stretched reluctantly but gave no sign of weakness. Thick steel cuffs –– the souvenirs he kept in his desk? –– chafed his wrists and ankles. He knew they would never break.

His mouth worked. Finally, he said, “Kill me if you’re going to, you coward. Be done with this.”

“Damn you! You refused to return the land that was ours by right. You refused to negotiate. You refused to accept our demands. You got what you deserved!”

“Huh. I don’t recall anyone asking me anything. Not sure how you could have, though, given that I was on the other side of the world finishing graduate school.”

“Too bad,” Rickhoff growled. “Given your actions here, you should have shared your family’s fate.”

Rickhoff never flinched from the blow he knew was coming. But then it never arrived.

“Sorry, General. I think you already got your wish. After all these decades, I’m dead inside. Any anger I feel now can’t reach into my core. You murdered me, too, when you murdered my family, murdered my neighbors, murdered my country.”

“They died humanely,” Rickhoff said. “The virus killed within hours, but they were all unconscious long before the end.”

“Yes. So I’ve read. Then the viruses were engineered to switch off and die within a day. No threat to you or your soldiers. Nice and neat and tidy.”

“No muss, no fuss,” Rickhoff said, baiting this degenerate with his own words. When his jab elicited no response, he said, “At least show me your face, you bastard. Let me look you in the eye before you kill me.”

More footsteps. Then quiet, as though the man were contemplating acceding to his order.

“I think not, General. You might say that this is nothing personal, just war. But you’re not me. It is personal. To me. And it was personal to each and every one of those inconvenient individuals you removed so surgically. Unfortunately, there’s simply no way the scales can be balanced. Millions to your one. Still, I’ll take what I can get.”

The thought shot to the surface of Rickhoff’s mind like a bubble of air through deep water. “Wait a minute. How did you get in here? My new security system is supposed to be foolproof.”

The stranger laughed. “Too bad I’m not a fool.” A pause. Then almost to himself: “Maybe I am.” Another beat. “Don’t recognize my voice, General? Not that you would pay much attention to the peons floating around the periphery of such a great soldier and art patron such as yourself.”

“I know you?” Rickhoff’s brows creased. “I don’t... It’s not...”

“I didn’t think so.” The stranger cleared his throat. “If you’re not happy with my work, General, I can call Mr. Lawson and have him send in a different technician to finish.”

“The technician? What?”

The sharp sound of tearing paper was his only answer, as though the man were opening a package.

“I told you I was in grad school when the war started and ended. I didn’t tell you what I studied.”

“I don’t give a good goddamn what you studied. I ––”

“Engineering. Specialized in security systems. Designing them. Programming them. Installing them. Computer systems. Physical systems.” He paused. “That was me your wife interrupted the other night.”

“You? Why...?”

“In the parlance of an old B-movie, I needed to case the joint. See how you had altered things. Decide on my strategy.”

“But Alicia interrupted you.”

“I would have preferred more time, yes, but no great harm done. I wanted her to see me. I knew you rarely slept here. I needed some way to ensure your presence at night.”

“But our old system was installed by a different company.”

“Right. One that utilized a variant on an old protocol I developed in school. Not too taxing to disable.”

“So the system you put in was never activated. How did you arrange the testing?”

“Oh, the system was activated, all right. Anyone else but me tried to break in and you’d have been protected. But... Back doors aren’t always physical.”

“No security company would hire a professional such as yourself as a technician. This is crazy!”

“You’re right. It is crazy. Especially so given that Home Safe based their product line on patents I developed years after school. But a change in name, a change in country, a change in lifestyle. I know my stuff. Literally. That’s why they hired me, why they chose me as your tech. The best in my field. That’s me. The best. That’s why you picked Home Safe when First Security let you down.”

A sharp point of pain blossomed in Rickhoff’s upper arm. A needle. A second’s duration, then gone.

Panic ratcheted through Rickhoff’s voice. “What’d you do? What’d you inject me with? What are you doing, you asshole?”

“Killing you, General. Just as you killed my family and my nation. Wasn’t easy finding a supply of the virus. But I have lots of money, lots of contacts.”

“No...” Disbelief warred with stark terror in Rickhoff’s mind.

“For a long, long time, General, I wanted you to suffer. Horribly. Agonizingly. Tortuously. But, really, I am not a big fan of pain. In myself or others. We have that in common, I guess. Thanks to you, I experienced a belly full of torment for more years than I care to recall. I don’t want any more. So. I don’t require that you twist and scream in your final hours. I just want you dead.”

“But... No. Don’t you see? It was war. I didn’t... We all... I never...”

“Good night, General.” A click of a light switch barely registered on Rickhoff’s awareness. “Oh, by the way, General,” the voice said from across the room, “I found it very odd –– though not particularly surprising –– that you never once asked me what I did to your wife.”

Rickhoff’s lashes flickered against the cloth blinding his eyes.

“I...”

His lids closed. Peacefully. Gently.

Permanently.