Game of Shadows

by R. J. Patterson

  Five minutes went by with nothing but the sound of crispy leaves trickling across the ground and a few squirrels chattering in a nearby treetop.

  “Is he ever going to get here?” Shields asked.

  “Just be patient,” Black said. “He’ll be here before you know it.”

  A few more minutes passed before Black’s phone buzzed with an alert. The perimeter had been broken.

  “He’s here,” Black whispered.

  “Roger that,” Shields said.

  “Blunt? You there?” he asked.

  “I heard you,” Blunt said.

  “Get to the room we talked about,” Black said.

  “Heading there now.”

  Darkness had now fallen, making it increasingly difficult to see. Black pulled his infrared glasses down from his forehead and secured them around his eyes. He didn’t see any heat signatures in his line of sight.

  “Are you watching on satellite?” Black asked Shields, who was in a surveillance van about a hundred yards off the road, hidden among the trees.

  “Yeah, but I don’t see anything.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Not that would indicate there’s another person out there.”

  “Maybe it was an animal or something,” Black said. “I’ll reset it.”

  He typed in a few commands from his phone.

  That ought to do it.

  “Wait a minute,” Shields said. “I’ve got some movement on the west side of the house. Definitely not an animal.”

  Black eased out of the shed and hustled in the direction Shields mentioned.

  “Blunt, are you in the saferoom,” he whispered.

  “Already there,” Blunt said.

  Black scanned the area, still not seeing anyone. “How did he slip by us?”

  “There are ways to mask your heat,” Shields said. “And this guy is a former elite Russian operative. Did you think this was going to be easy?”

  “I was hoping,” Black said. “Where’d he go?”

  “He’s going inside,” she said.

  Black cursed under his breath as he broke into a sprint. The protocol they’d set up was designed to keep Blunt out of harm’s way in the event of a perimeter breach. But Black never believed that was likely to happen. Between Shields’s overhead satellite images and his monitoring the area in infrared, what was the chance that Antoine could get so close to the house without anyone noticing first? Yet somehow he had.

  “Get out of there now,” Black said over the coms.

  “What about the panic room?” Blunt asked.

  “It’s not going to matter if he gets to you first,” Black said. “And I can’t even see him yet.”

  “I knew this was a terrible idea,” Blunt said.

  “Just get your weapon and get to the woods.”

  As Black reached the west side of the house, he heard Blunt’s voice over the coms again.

  “I’m clear,” Blunt said.

  “Roger that,” Black said. “I’m going after Antoine.”

  “The target just went inside,” Shields said.

  Black saw Blunt dart out of the back door and hustle toward the woods.

  “Stay out of sight until I give you the signal that the coast is clear,” Black said.

  Black entered the house through the front door, which Antoine had left open. A creaking noise emanated from the stairs, giving away Antoine’s position. Black glided across the floor, his gun trained forward. However, as he rounded the corner and peered up the steps, they were empty.

  Where’d he go?

  A thump from the living room drew Black’s attention as he switched directions and followed the sounds from the old house that had been built nearly a century ago. He reached the doorway leading inside the den but stopped short, instead poking his head around the corner to see if Antoine was there. He spun around at the same moment as Black, and the two men locked eyes. Antoine was covered in body armor and even wore a helmet.

  “Not who you were looking for?” Black asked.

  They both had their weapons aimed at each other, neither giving any indication of what they were about to do next.

  “Your little magic tricks aren’t going to work on me this time either,” Black said.

  Antoine ignored Black’s barb. “Where is he?”

  “Where’s who?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me. You know who I’m talking about.”

  Black shrugged. “If you’re referring to Blunt, he’s not here.”

  “You’re gonna take me to him.”

  “I don’t think so,” Black said. “This ends right here, right now.”

  “Not for me it doesn’t,” Antoine said.

  He didn’t wait for a response before opening fire. Black darted around the side of the wall, poking his head around to catch a glimpse of Antoine and shoot back. For the next couple minutes, the two men exchanged rounds. Then Black ducked back behind the wall, ripped a flashbang out of a grenade holster, pulled the pin, and flung the weapon toward Antoine.

  Black didn’t wait before charging straight toward the attacker, who was disoriented from the explosion. When Black hit Antoine, he staggered backward, slamming his head into the wall. But Antoine absorbed the hit and spun to the side. Black had latched onto Antoine’s bulletproof vest and rode him down to the ground, forcing him onto his back.

  With Black on top and in control, he reached for his gun to end the confrontation, but Antoine seized the opportunity to punch Black in the throat. Stunned from the blow, he grabbed at his neck and coughed reflexively. The natural reaction made Black vulnerable, which Antoine took advantage of by reaching for Black’s left ear and prying loose one of the coms. Then Antoine reached for his pocket.

  Black was briefly baffled by the move before he realized what was happening. He plugged his left ear with his middle finger and then tried to prevent Antoine from setting off his devastating device. Once he pulled it out of his pocket, Black jammed his knee into Antoine’s forearm, forcing him to release his grip on the device. Black swatted it aside before putting his hands around Antoine’s neck.

  However, Antoine kept fighting, pushing Black’s jaw until his chin moved up into a painful and awkward position.

  Black rolled off Antoine in an attempt to regain control. But Antoine dove for the mechanism and tried to push it. Black plugged his ear just in time and then pulled out his gun. Antoine threw his hands in the air in a posture of surrender.

  “Blunt isn’t who you think he is,” Antoine said. “You’re going to find that out soon enough—and you’re going to regret it.”

  “I doubt it,” Black said.

  Then he pulled the trigger, hitting Antoine in the head.

  Black waited a moment as blood pooled around his target. After half a minute, Black checked Antoine’s pulse. He was gone.

  “The target is down,” Black said.

  “And you?” Shields asked.

  “I’ll live,” Black said. “Did you hear that, Blunt?”

  There wasn’t a reply.

  “Blunt?” Shields asked.

  A gunshot from outside pierced the evening sky.

  CHAPTER 35

  “WHAT WAS THAT?” Black asked into his coms.

  “There’s another hostile on the property with Blunt,” Shields said. “I didn’t see him until just now. I was watching your body cam.”

  Black cursed as he sprinted toward the rendezvous point he’d sent Blunt.

  “I’m sorry,” Shields said. “I didn’t consider anyone else would’ve come with him.”

  “Where are they?” Black asked.

  “Behind the shed.”

  The possibility that Antoine would bring help didn’t occur to Black either, if he was being honest. Once he had Antoine cornered and Blunt out of the house, there shouldn’t have been any reason to worry. But now Black was facing the possibility that using Blunt as bait would cost him his life.

  Black raced toward the utility structure he’d used just a half-hour
ago to watch Blunt’s house. When Black arrived, he found Blunt with his hands in the air, back against the building. In front of him was none other than Wilson Wellington, his pistol trained on Blunt.

  “Put the gun down,” Wellington said, cutting his eyes toward Black. “At least if you don’t want your boss here to die.”

  Black lowered his weapon. “It’s over, Senator,” he said. “Antoine is dead.”

  “It’s not over for me, thanks to this man right here,” Wellington said. “In fact, it’s only just beginning because of that bombshell report about my actions during the war in Afghanistan.”

  Black narrowed his eyes. “You killed my father.”

  “The Taliban killed your father, not me.”

  “You sent him there, knowing he would die.”

  Wellington shook his head. “You don’t understand. I didn’t have a choice.”

  Black shook his head. “We always have a choice. You made the wrong one. And the sooner you can accept that, the better off you’ll be. Trying to blame others for your own transgressions isn’t going to change the fact that you sent a man into battle knowing he was going to die.”

  “Your boss here is responsible for all of this mess,” Wellington said. “Isn’t that right, J.D.? Tell him.”

  Blunt shook his head. “He’s delusional. Don’t believe a word out of his mouth.”

  “No, I’m not,” Wellington said. “J.D., you’re the one who has a bad habit of instigating needless tragedy in people’s lives.”

  “Is this true?” Black asked.

  “Absolutely not,” Blunt said.

  “Liar,” Wellington roared. “That was all tied to Blue Moon Rising. Did you investigate that, Mr. Black?”

  Black eyed Blunt, who shook his head subtly. “Blue Moon Rising was active during the war?”

  Wellington nodded. “They’ve been creating chaos in various forms for nearly half a century, all under the cover of the intelligence community.”

  “I don’t know who told you this, but that’s simply not true.”

  “It is,” Wellington said. “And I’ll prove it to you. Both of you, to the house. And put the weapon away, Mr. Black.”

  Black holstered his gun and raised his hands, following Blunt to the house. Once they got inside, Wellington directed his two hostages to sit on the couch in the living room.

  “Now, you two have a simple choice,” Wellington said. “Call the reporter who you gave all that bogus information to and tell her it was all a fabrication. Or I will destroy both your lives.”

  Blunt shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

  “Maybe you didn’t hear me when I gave you your two choices,” Wellington said.

  “I did, but I’m opting for a third choice,” Blunt said.

  “And what choice is that?” Wellington asked.

  Blunt smiled wryly. “Not lift a finger to refute anything you’ve said and walk out of here.”

  “That’s not a wise decision,” Wellington said. “Upon my death, records will be released showing exactly what I’m saying tonight and proving what a hypocrite you are.”

  Blunt crossed his arms and shook his head. “You’re peddling lies, Wilson. You can’t own up to your mistakes. Everyone will see right through this desperate attempt of yours to shift the blame and cast yourself as a victim. Nobody is going to believe you, even if you were telling the truth.”

  “But I am, and you know it. I guess you don’t care what your little minions will think when the reality about who you are is laid bare before the world. And this guy here certainly won’t find out who’s really responsible for his father’s death or the secret he found out that cost him his life.”

  Black thought he saw a shadow just outside the window and shot a glance toward it. He noticed a silhouette with a gun and realized it was Shields. He lifted a hand up, trying to play off the gesture as just fidgeting. But Shields would get the message, realizing he was waving her off. When Wellington looked at Blunt, Black took a quick peek at the window and noticed Shields had lowered her pistol.

  “Stop playing games,” Blunt said. “Your pathetic attempt to distort reality isn’t going to work on Agent Black. He’s too smart to fall for your attempts to twist the truth.”

  “No, no,” Black said. “I want to hear what the senator has to say about this. If there’s more to the story, I want to hear it.”

  Wellington wagged his finger. “Not until Blunt calls that reporter and tells her that he was lying.”

  Blunt shook his head. “What I told her was a hundred percent factual.”

  “When the truth comes out, they’re going to hunt you down just like they’re coming after me.”

  “Tell me more about my father,” Black asked. “I need to know.”

  “That’s up to J.D., and apparently he doesn’t want to play along,” Wellington said. “So, there’s only one thing to do.”

  Wellington steadied his gun on Blunt. “I’m going to get revenge.”

  “You don’t have to do this,” Black said. “You have a gun trained on you right now. So, I suggest you lower your weapon.”

  Wellington pressed the barrel of his pistol against his head. “Why? Because someone might shoot me? I’m going out on my terms. And you’re gonna have one helluva time explaining how I ended up dead in your house, J.D.”

  “No, don’t—”

  Wellington didn’t hesitate, pulling the trigger and then crumpling to the floor.

  Black rushed over to Wellington. And it was like his lifeless eyes wanted to say something else, but they didn’t have the chance.

  Black looked up at Blunt and glared at him. “What did you do?”

  “That was a fine theatrical performance,” Blunt said. “Nothing more, nothing less. There’s nothing for him to tell.”

  “He seemed to think there was more to my father’s death than what was in that report,” Black said. “And he more than implied that you had something to do with it.”

  “If there’s more to it, I don’t know anything about it. But I can promise you that I wasn’t involved in any way. I didn’t even know your father. You have to believe me.”

  Black stood up and sighed. Shields rushed inside, her weapon still drawn.

  “Is everyone okay?” she asked, giving Black a long hug. “I thought I was too late.”

  Blunt nodded. “We’re good. But we’ve got a mess we need to clean up. I need to make some calls to get this taken care of.”

  He sauntered outside, dialing a number on his cell as he went.

  “What about you?” she asked, removing her coms. “I heard everything Wellington was saying.”

  “I don’t know what to think,” Black said, ripping his coms out of his ear. “But I’m pretty convinced there’s probably more to it than what was in my father’s sealed personnel records.”

  “And what about Blue Moon Rising?” she asked.

  “We need to keep digging,” Black said.

  He shuffled into the kitchen and found the device that he’d been fighting over with Antoine just a few minutes earlier. After picking it up, he inspected the name embossed on it: Colton Industries.

  “Would you look at this?” Black said.

  Shields hustled to him and stared at the words just above Black’s index finger before reading them aloud. “Colton Industries,” she said. “Mean anything to you?”

  “Other than the fact that they are one of the leading weapons manufacturers in the world, I guess not much.”

  “So, you’re thinking maybe Dr. Matthews didn’t help Antoine make this device?”

  Black looked closer and shook his head. “Upon further inspection, not anymore.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked as she withdrew.

  “Look at these initials burned into the bottom of the casing here,” he said. “D—A—M. That’s all the proof we need to know that he was likely involved: Dr. Aaron Matthews.”

  CHAPTER 36

  BLUNT LUMBERED TO THE EDGE of his property and watche
d the moon rise on the horizon. Below the twinkling lights of the Shenandoah Valley yielded to the illusion that his land was secluded. The forests and trees provided sufficient cover from the city just over two hours away that loved to feast on a person’s soul before discarding them. If there was one thing Blunt had learned after all his years in the nation’s capital, it’s that everyone comes to Washington thinking they’re going to change the world. They either leave disillusioned and disenfranchised—or corrupted to the core. No matter how much Wellington and Antoine tried to cast aspersions on others, the two dead men were responsible for their own decisions. Ultimately, their quest for power and position and fortune had lured them with great promise only to deliver an early demise.

  And Blunt didn’t want to catch any of the blowback for their deaths as they made a desperate attempt to bring him down in their final acts.

  He fished around in his pocket for a cigar before pulling one out and popping it into his mouth. Next, he dialed Besserman’s number and waited for him to answer.

  “Where are you?” Besserman asked. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for hours.”

  “I’ve been a little busy. What’s going on?”

  “The FBI has launched a manhunt for Wilson Wellington since he didn’t turn himself at the time his lawyer had worked out,” Besserman said. “I know you were trying to take care of Antoine, but Wellington might be coming for you now too. But more than anything, I’m glad to find out that you’re safe.”

  “I wish I’d answered my phone then,” Blunt said. “We already found him.”

  “You have Wellington?”

  “In a manner of speaking, which is actually why I was calling you. He’s dead.”

  “What? How?”

  “Self-inflicted gunshot to the head, done right there in the middle of my living room,” Blunt said. “And now I’m gonna need help from one of your cleanup teams.”

  “That bad, huh?”