by Bobby Nash
The first shot clipped him in the knee, staggering him. She did not want to kill him so her first shot was meant to incapacitate.
When he did not fall, she squeezed the trigger again.
The weapon bucked in her hand and the second shot hit him in the mid-section, near the kidney.
McHenry screamed, but went down all the same.
Agent Patterson kept the gun raised until she was sure that the man was down for good. As soon as she believed he was out of the fight, her arms dropped, the gun suddenly too heavy to lift, much less fire.
She coughed, winced from the pain, and tried to stand.
She failed.
I think I’ll stay right here, she decided.
Then, a hand appeared in front of her.
She reached out, grabbed it. A firm hand took hers in his and pulled Agent Patterson to her feet.
“Tha… Thank you, Mr. President,” the Secret Service agent said, her throat aching with each syllable.
“I think that should be the other way around, young lady. I should be thanking you,” President Montgomery said as he helped her to the desk so she could lean on it for support.
She rapped her knuckles on the desk.
“Consider this paid in full, sir,” she told him, trying to smile despite the pain.
“Just take it easy, Agent.”
She looked down at McHenry. One of the protection agents had knelt next to him.
“Is he alive?”
“Yes,” the agent said, his hand on the deputy director’s neck, feeling a pulse.
“Medics are on the way,” Secretary Conrad said.
“Thank you, Matthew,” Montgomery said.
“Mr. President, I really think we should get you to the bunker,” Conrad said. “Just in case there’s another…” He motioned toward McHenry.
“It’s okay,” Montgomery said. “Everything’s under control.”
“No, sir,” Patterson said. “Not until we deal with The Controller.”
“Consider this office at your disposal, Agent Patterson. Whatever you need.”
“Thank you, Mr. President,” she said as the medics ran into the room and attended to their patients.
Both men were alive, though both wounded. The medics set about stabilizing them for transport to the hospital wing.
“Make sure Deputy Director McHenry is placed in restraints,” Patterson told the medic.
“I doubt he can do much damage like this.”
“No, but he’s going to wake up,” she said. “When he does, we have no way of knowing if his programming will kick back in or if he’ll be okay. Everyone else this guy dosed committed suicide after their mission ended. We would all very much like to avoid having the same thing happen here, wouldn’t we?”
“Yes, we would,” the President said, his focus on the medic.
“Of course,” the medic said before returning to his work.
She blew out a breath and sat on the edge of the desk.
“We’ve still got a long morning ahead of us, Agent Patterson,” President Montgomery said. “What’s our next move?”
“I’m going to find out if there’s an antidote for this Blood Sport concoction. Dr. Gulley knows how or he’s going to tell me.”
“That’s a good start.”
“Do you have anyone working on the formula for this suicide bomb programming?”
“We’ve got people working on it. They aren’t hopeful.”
Patterson snapped her fingers.
“Have them check a sample of McHenry’s blood. If it’s in his system, maybe they can isolate it or something.”
“It’s worth a try,” Montgomery said. “I’ll get someone on it right away.”
“Thank you, Mr. President.”
“Until Agent Corwin or McHenry recovers, I’m putting you in charge of the investigation.”
“I’ll do my best, sir, but you should know, there are a few folks at Treasury who were not happy to see me on the case. Putting me in charge will not go over well. They’ll be none too happy with it.”
He smiled.
“I’m the President of the United States, Agent Patterson. There are people who are automatically none too happy about what I eat for breakfast. I don’t lose any sleep over them either.”
“Just letting you know that this might not be a popular decision, sir.”
“Are you telling me you cannot handle the job, Agent Patterson?”
“No, Mr. President,” she said, demurring under his authority. “I can do the job. I have been known to ruffle feathers while doing my job though. It’s caused me some headaches, gotten me in hot water a time or twelve.”
“You let me worry about that,” Montgomery said. “I’ve ruffled more than a few feathers in my time. Anybody gets in your way or questions your authority in this matter, you send them to me. I’ll straighten them out.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said, smiling in spite of the pain. “You know, it’s funny…”
“What’s that?”
“A few years ago, I was demoted and shipped off to the Service’s version of Siberia for punching Deputy Director McHenry in the mouth. Today, I got promoted after shooting him. A funny old world, ain’t it?”
“You should try doing my job,” Montgomery said.
She laughed, winced at the pain. “No thank you, sir.”
“Just one question, Agent Patterson.”
“Yes, Mr. President?”
“Did he deserve it?”
She gave him a puzzled look.
“The punch in the nose. Did McHenry deserve it?”
“Very much so, sir.”
President Montgomery winked.
“Then I won’t lose sleep over that either.”
Thirty-four
Washington DC
Monday
Ted Brown’s patience had reached its end.
“Exactly how long do they think they can keep us locked up in here like this?” he asked, not for the first time.
While he paced the length of the room and back, his roommate, or was that cellmate, Richard Pearce, sat calmly at the table in the center of a conference room at one of the Secret Service’s offsite facilities. He couldn’t help but wonder if it wasn’t just offsite, but perhaps off the books too.
“Just try and take it easy, okay?” Pearce said, also not for the first time. “It could be a lot worse. They didn’t put us in an interrogation room or anything like that. We’re in a nice conference room with a break room across the hall. We’re not under lockdown.”
“But we can’t exactly leave either, can we?”
“Well, no,” Pearce admitted.
“Then my original question stands.”
“Why don’t you sit down? You’re just making yourself crazy pacing back and forth.”
“Making myself…”
Unable to hold it together any longer, Ted Brown let out a laugh.
“Are you insane? This past day has been quite possibly the worst of my life! How do you expect me to be calm?”
Ted was still having trouble processing the details of the past day. Everything came crashing down around him the moment he discovered that Sarah Smith was dead, murdered while committing a break in. The word “espionage” had been thrown around more than once. He feared they would believe he was involved in whatever Sarah had gotten herself into.
His Sarah Smith. That’s what he had called her. She was bright, and cheery, and a breath of fresh air who had fallen into his life and pulled him from the doldrums of a job he did not enjoy and the heartache of a difficult divorce. He had been broken when he found her, chewed up and spit out by an ex-wife who blew up every good thing that happened to her. Her job, family, their marriage. All of it destroyed by her reckless decisions. Samantha had torpedoed his life, his happiness. It was Sarah had helped him put the pieces back together again.
And now to find out that it was all a lie.
It was almost more than he could handle. Ted held on to his sani
ty by a thread. He feared it would not take much more before he snapped.
He now knew that Sarah hadn’t fallen into his life as much as she had inserted herself. She was a thief and used him for his access and he had never noticed. He was a means to an end and now he wondered if she had ever truly loved him.
Not that it mattered.
He was in love with her and now she was gone and her passing left a large hole where his heart had once beat steady and strong.
If all of that wasn’t bad enough, seeing his ex-wife, Samantha again was like kicking a man once he was down. Sarah’s death, they weren’t sure if it could be classified a murder or involuntary homicide at this point. All he knew was that Samantha was part of the investigation and that meant that some way, somehow, her boss, Deputy Director James McHenry was involved.
To say that Ted was not a fan of the Secret Service Agent would be putting it mildly. As much as she helped torpedo her own career, McHenry had been directly responsible for Samantha’s fall from grace within the service. He was the one who had banished her from active duty, sticking her in the lowest, most tedious positions he could find.
Her banishment made Samantha unhappy, eventually leading to depression, anger, and resentment. The latter of the two she aimed directly at her husband as he was the closest target. He had tried to be strong for her, to ride out the storm, love and support her. He really did try, but eventually, she all but cut him completely out of her life. In the end, the only conversations they had were arguments and even then, there was little love to spare between them.
His wife’s life was spiraling out of control and there was nothing he could do to help her.
Filing the divorce papers had been the hardest thing he had ever done, but it was necessary. He knew that, if they stayed together, they would eventually hate one another. He often suspected that they had already reached that point.
He was surprised when she chose not to contest the divorce, instead she signed immediately without asking for anything in return.
And just like that, the marriage was over.
Ted had lost track of Samantha until she and Detective Jackson had walked into his office the day before. He was shocked to see her back on active status, and surprisingly pleased to see that she had started putting her life back together. The anger, the resentment, both remained, and he was ashamed that he had not reacted well to seeing her.
Now that things had calmed somewhat, he wanted nothing more than to talk to her, to see if she could explain to him what exactly is going on. No one would tell them anything and Ted hated being out of the loop almost as much as he hated sitting around doing absolutely nothing.
“Will you please sit down” Richard Pearce said again, this time with more force. “You’re driving me crazy.”
“Fine,” Ted groused, yanking a chair out from under the table and plopping down into it, arms folded over his chest like a pouting child who had just been scolded.
“This will all get sorted out, I promise. Whatever’s going on, the Secret Service feels we would be safer here for the time being so that’s what we’ll do. From what Agent Corwin told me, there’s someone out there killing people.”
“But why target us? Who the hell have we pissed off?”
“You mean besides your ex-wife?”
“Yeah,” Ted’s pout deepened. “Besides her.”
Pearce shrugged.
“Let’s just ride it out and see what’s what. Besides, I’ve already got our people looking into things as well. One way or the other, we’ll get to the bottom of this.”
“I hope so,” Ted said.
Before he could say anything else, a loud noise echoed down the hallway outside the conference room.
“Is that?” Brown asked, once again getting to his feet, arms pressed against the table.
“Gunshots,” Pearce said. He got to his feet also, but more calmly than his companion. Pearce’s years working for the CIA had taught him a thing or two about keeping his emotions in check.
Pearce opened the conference room door, thankful that it wasn’t locked. Before he could take a step out, two armed Secret Service Agents ran past him, weapons drawn. The one bringing up the rear pointed toward the conference room and told them to go back inside and stay there.
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” Pearce muttered before stepping out in the hallway behind them.
He motioned for Ted to join him.
“You have any idea what’s going on?”
“No idea,” Pearce said. “Come on.”
Richard Pearce headed down the hallway in the direction the agents had gone. They stuck close to the wall, trying to stay out of sight.
“Uh, the gunshots are that way,” Brown said. “Shouldn’t we go in the opposite direction?”
“Answers are this way,” Pearce said.
“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”
“Probably,” Pearce said.
Then he rounded a corner and was gone.
Ted Brown shook his head and followed.
Thirty-five
Washington DC
Monday
Catherine Jackson had a headache from hell.
Before leaving her parent’s home with her partner, Melvin Walker, she had downed a couple of extra-strength capsules that should do the trick, but so far they hadn’t kicked in. Whatever had been done to her had left a doozy of a headache that threatened to blow her eyes out of their sockets.
She must have moaned with the latest pulse of pain because her partner took his eyes off the road long enough to see if she was okay.
“You going to make me?”
“Don’t know,” she said through the pain.
“Okay, that’s it,” he said. “I’m getting you to a hospital.”
“No,” Jacks said. “Hospital can’t help. Need to talk to The Controller. He did this to me. He can fix it.”
“What is it, some sort of side effect?”
“Beats me,” Jacks said, pinching the bridge of her nose in a futile attempt to ward off the pain. “As far as I know, I’m the first one of his, what did we call them? Oh, yeah, suicide bombs. I’m the first one that didn’t complete their mission.”
She looked at her partner and forced the corner of her mouth into a smile.
“Thank you for that, by the way.”
“Don’t mention it, partner.”
“So, maybe this pain I’m feeling is the suicide part of the murder/suicide combo trying to kick in.”
“Do you feel the urge to harm yourself?”
“No.”
“That’s good to hear,” Melvin said, trying to keep the mood light and disguise how worried he was about Jacks’ well-being. Their investigation revealed that all of the people under The Controller’s sway to date had taken their own life after fulfilling the pre-arranged mission the villain had set for them. She knew that as well as he did.
“Any idea when he infected you?” Walker asked.
“Infected…”
“How did he trigger you to attack?”
“I don’t…” her mind drifted back, trying to put the memories together like pieces of a puzzle where she had no clue what the picture on the box looked like.
“I don’t know,” she said, aggravation tinging her tone.
“It’s okay, Jacks. All that matters now is that you beat him. Whatever whammy this guy hot you with is gone. You stopped him. Now, we’re going to go ram it down his throat.”
“If you say so,” Jacks said. “Are you sure this Gulley guy is The Controller?”
“He all but came out and said it. Turns out he also whammied one of the Secret Service guys too. Sam was on her way over to the White House to get the President under wraps.”
“I can’t believe he was part of all of this,” Jacks said. “I actually voted for that guy.”
“He wasn’t involved like that. He was on the committee to fund the project though.”
“Are you trying to tell me he didn’t know
what they were up to? He had to know something was up.”
“It was a long time ago, Jacks.”
“Not long enough, apparently. Look how many people have dies so this Gulley guy can keep his secret.”
“Well, he’s in luck,” Jacks said. “He wanted to see me angry. I’m angry.”
“Hold that thought,” Walker said as he turned into the Secret Service’s off site where they were holding their suspect.
He showed the guard his badge and Jacks held hers up from the passenger seat as well. The guard, the same one who had been on duty when the police officer had torn out of the parking lot earlier, recognized him, but said nothing.
“You know where to park,” the guard said.
“Did Agent Patterson make it back yet?”
“Not yet, sir.”
“Thanks,” Walker said and headed toward a sparking space close to the building’s entrance. It had already been a long weekend and he was really looking forward to putting this case to bed and heading home to crash for a few days.
He and Jacks had been going full tilt since getting the call early Saturday morning. As the Monday morning sunrise was getting ready to yawn and stretch and try to come to life, they were still hard at work. It had only been forty-eight hours, but it felt longer.
“You sure you want to do this now?” he asked Jacks.
She rubbed her head.
“Jacks?”
“I’ve got to find out what he did to me, Mel,” she said. “What if this wasn’t a one-time deal? What happens the next time I see my dad? Am I going to point a gun at him again?”
She shot him a look of anguish and pain.
“I have to know.”
Walker killed the engine and opened the door.
“Okay, let’s go get some answers.”
She got out of the car as well, slowly, trying to keep the world from spinning out of control under the migraine assault that made her think her brain was going to explode.
They had only taken two steps up the stairs when they heard a familiar sound, but one that did not belong there.
Walker and Jackson turned to face the other.
“Gunshots,” they both mouthed at the same time.
Pulling their weapons, Walker held Jacks’ gun up so she could see it.
