by James Hunt
He kept waiting for Amy to say something, but she remained silent. The only thing worse than condemning him was her silence. His gut twisted and turned. His body felt like it would disappear right then and there, and at that moment he wished he could. Finally, Amy got up from the bed and walked over to him. She cupped her hands around his face and kissed him, softly.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you, too.”
“Daniel, do you think you can get in contact with this Smith character again?” Brooke asked.
“I don’t know. We didn’t leave on the best of terms,” Daniel answered.
“Try. He might be our ticket home.”
***
Smith dropped the pen in his hands and rubbed his eyes. Beth flipped through the next few pages, crossing words out and adding others as she went.
“I think I need a break,” Smith said.
“Okay,” Beth replied, still lost in the work.
“Getting hungry?”
Beth didn’t respond. She kept going through the documents, her pen busy with notations. She was in her own world.
“Beth,” Smith said, a little louder.
“Yeah?”
“Are. You. Hungry?” Smith asked, adding in some dramatic hand movements to act out the definition of his words.
“Dr. Carlson is rubbing off on you,” Beth said.
“And why do you say that?”
“Because you’re starting to annoy me.”
Smith’s phone rang. He paused when he saw the number, but he answered it.
“Hello?” Smith asked.
“Hello,” Daniel answered.
“And to what do I owe this pleasure? Giving me a warning this time before the authorities come to arrest me?”
“David, I’m sor—”
“What do you want, Daniel? If it’s about Jones, I can’t help you with that anymore. You’re too far down the rabbit hole.”
“No, it’s not about Jones. I wanted to see if there was anything I can do. To help.”
Smith covered the phone with his hand and grabbed Beth’s attention. “It’s Daniel,” he said quietly. Beth simply shook her head.
“No, I’m afraid there isn’t, Daniel. But I appreciate the call.”
“Well, then maybe there’s something I can give you.”
“Such as?”
“I recently took a flight to Mexico with Congressman Jones to discuss a cease-fire with the Mexican government. The paperwork has probably already been drawn up, and I would think Jones will use it in the debate against you.”
Smith knew that Jones couldn’t have orchestrated that without the help of the president, and if he was going to the president for help, then he was desperate.
“Was there anyone else with you on the trip?” Smith asked.
“Just security.”
“Thank you, Daniel.”
“David,” Daniel paused on the other end of the line. Smith knew what he was going through. There was nothing harder than asking for forgiveness after a betrayal of trust.
“It’s fine,” Smith said. “Really. I think we’ve both done enough distasteful deeds for one term. Actually, there is something I could use you for.”
“Of course.”
“I have Dr. Carlson in the process of setting up a new lab. I could use a pair of eyes at the location if you’re interested?”
“Absolutely.”
“Good. I hope your passport is still valid.”
Before Daniel could ask any more questions, Smith hung up the phone. Beth had stopped her work and stared at him.
“What?” Smith asked.
“You really think it’s a good idea to involve him again?” Beth countered.
“He’s not going to make the same mistake twice, Beth.”
“You don’t know if he’s still working for Jones.”
“Even if he was, it wouldn’t do any good. Jones doesn’t have any connection or pull with the Canadian government. And the Canadian ambassador isn’t going to forgo the opportunity for a free pass on their water debt.”
“I still don’t like it.”
“Where are we with the meeting with Senator Harris?”
“He hasn’t gotten back in touch with me yet.”
“Keep trying. This isn’t going to work without him.”
Chapter 11
The police officers from the precinct that had called in Brooke’s car were about as useful as tits on a bull. Terry slammed the door to his van shut, and the vehicle rocked back and forth from his violent entrance. He reached around for his laptop and set it on the dashboard. He lit a cigarette waiting for it to boot up, and when it did, he entered Brooke’s information.
He knew exactly where she was going: her sister’s house in North Carolina. That’s the trajectory she’d been on since she left Dallas, and by now she was already there. He entered her sister’s married name into Google, and Daniel’s name popped up. Terry clicked on the link to his congressional page and scrolled down.
The cloud of smoke filled the van’s cabin, giving everything around Terry a gray haze. He gently squeezed his hand. His knuckles were still bruised from the beating he had given Brooke’s friend Dave.
“Stupid bitch,” Terry mumbled.
The open cuts along his hands stung, but another puff of the cigarette, and he could feel the pain recede. He rested his head back and closed his eyes.
“So your sister’s husband is a Congressman. That’s what you’re hoping for. A little political favor.”
Terry spent the next twenty minutes reading the congressman’s political views, his background, campaign funds, committees served on, and education background. From what Terry could gather based off of his own findings, the man was clean—or just good at covering up his tracks.
If this woman was planning on using family, then there wasn’t a high probability that the family would turn her in. Family was loyal, protective… stupid. All he had to do was find a pressure point, and someone would cave. His money was on the husband. Terry just needed to find something on him.
The phone Terry carried was an old brick. Nothing like the smart phones used today, but he only needed it for one thing: to make calls. He scrolled down and dialed the number of a man he knew in DC. If anyone would have any dirt on a congressman, it would be this guy.
Terry’s relationship with his contact wasn’t a cheerful one. It wasn’t even professional. He’d only done a handful of transactions with him. The price was always steep, but the last job Terry did gained him some favor.
The phone continued to ring until the voicemail picked up. Terry snapped his phone shut and tossed it on the dash. That’s the way it normally went. His contact never picked up on the first call. He’d always have to wait until the call back before anything happened.
The dash vibrated as the phone buzzed. Terry reached for the phone and stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray.
“I need some information,” Terry said, ignoring the pleasantries.
“Now’s not a good time.”
“It’s never a good time when one of us calls the other. That’s part of the relationship.”
“What is it?”
“I need some dirt on a congressman.”
“Which one?”
“Daniel Hunter.”
The other end of the line went silent. Terry waited, wondering if the call had been disconnected.
“Hello?” Terry asked.
“What business do you have with him?”
“He’s not the mark, but he’s harboring an illegal.”
“Who?”
“Santa Claus. What does it matter who it is? Just send me the info. Consider it back pay for the last job.”
Terry ended the call and looked back at the picture of Congressman Hunter on his laptop. He brought his massive index finger up and tapped the screen.
“You’re about to have a very bad day.”
***
The beep in Jones’s ear signaled that th
e call had ended. He kept the phone pressed to his ear, his jaw slack. His brain was wild with activity, trying to process everything he’d just heard.
The phone eventually slipped from the side of his head and landed on the pile of papers Jones was sifting through to prepare for his debate with Smith.
Jones wasn’t sure what Daniel had gotten himself into, but if Terry was after him for something, then it would put Jones at risk. Daniel knew too much about the visit to Mexico. He couldn’t risk leaking that until the treaty was signed, and he still hadn’t received word that it had been finalized. He hit the button on the intercom that signaled for his secretary.
“Cindy, get me Congressman Hunter on the line. Immediately,” Jones said.
Before Cindy could answer, he clicked the intercom off and leaned back into his chair. His jacket was off, his tie undone, the top button of his shirt open, exposing his white undershirt. The skin on his face looked more flaccid than it had in days prior. He rubbed his eyes and smacked his cheeks, the skin under his neck wobbling slightly. For the first time since his very first term in office, he could feel the disgusting beast of doubt closing in on him.
Doubt was the one emotional response that could unravel a man in his position. He’d seen it happen so many times before, even using it to his advantage. He couldn’t risk exposing himself before the debate. If that happened, then there was the potential for the American people to turn against him. And despite how much he loathed the illusion the citizens of this country still controlled it, now was not the time to pull back the curtain.
The intercom buzzed. “Congressman Hunter on the line for you, sir.”
“Put him through.”
Jones kept the phone on speaker, and when Cindy put the call through, the crackling sound of static and wind sounded on the other line.
“Daniel?” Jones asked.
“What do you want, Jones?”
Jones rose from his chair. He placed both hands on the desk to brace himself and leaned over the speaker to make sure Daniel could hear him properly over whatever noise was in the background.
“Are you alone?” Jones asked.
“Not really.”
“Can you find a quieter place? This is important.”
“Jones, whatever it is you’re trying to sell, I’m not buying. Take whatever steps you think you need to, but know that if you go near my family, there won’t be a rock or hole in the ground that you can hide in to keep me from finding you.”
The call went dead, and the loud background noise disappeared with it. Jones fell back into his chair, his hands rubbing his throat. He felt hot. His laptop sat closed on the corner of his desk, and he grabbed it. He powered it on, opened a file, then started composing an email.
Jones dragged one of the files labeled “Hunter” and attached it to the email. The subject was always the same: “CLICK HERE FOR PRIZE!”
The body of the email was disguised as nothing more than spam. The email address Jones used was run off of some hacker server halfway around the world. It was used by individuals who had harmful or illegal intentions. He’d only used it a handful of times before, but Terry preferred this method of transaction.
Once the file finished encrypting itself, Jones moved the mouse over the send button, but he hesitated. His right index finger was raised to click the button. Jones moved the mouse away from send and moved it back toward the subject line.
He started typing, changing the message he’d written earlier to something different. Once he was done, he clicked send, and off it went. Daniel was too much of a loose end. Jones couldn’t risk it. He slammed the lid of the laptop down and removed it from the pile of papers he had been working on before the call. He picked up where he’d left off, but his eyes kept looking back over to the computer.
It wasn’t regret that Jones felt. It wasn’t any feeling of attachment that he had developed toward Daniel. It was simply the acknowledgement of a decision. One that he couldn’t take back now. The wheels were in motion. Jones just hoped that it would happen soon.
***
Terry reclined the driver’s seat, his cowboy hat was tilted over his forehead, blocking out the afternoon sun beating down through the windshield. Despite the shade, the beads of sweat continued to collect around his neck.
A ping sounded from his laptop, letting him know the email had arrived. He removed his hat and immediately opened the attached file. Terry scrolled through, examining the information Jones had sent him.
Jones didn’t disappoint. The files were extensive, but most of the offenses were minor, nothing headline worthy, until he came to the very last page. What he found there wasn’t just enough to end the congressman’s career but to land him in jail for the rest of his life. He had what he needed.
Then, just before Terry closed out the email, he noticed the subject line in bold, capital letters. He had to reread it a few times just to make sure he was looking at it correctly. Each subject line that he and Jones corresponded with had a different meaning. Depending on the job, it could read “YOU’RE A WINNER!”, which signaled that the individual in the attached file would need to be roughed up. Or it could say “JUST ONE CLICK AWAY FROM YOUR PRIZE!”, which meant that the item in the description attached needed to be recovered.
But what Terry saw in this subject line baffled him a bit. He realized that Jones had acted a little weird when Terry brought up Hunter’s name, but that was because Terry thought he knew the guy well. What this subject line represented wasn’t something you would do to a friend but to someone you wanted gone.
Terry didn’t question it. A job was a job, and it would pay triple the bounty on Brooke and Eric. He knew Jones would pony up the dough once the deed was done. He shut the laptop and stuffed it into the seat cover behind his driver’s seat.
Chapter 12
The seagulls hovering around the ship squawked as Captain Howard walked along the flight deck with the rest of the crew. All eyes were on the ground, searching for any foreign debris that could damage the jets during takeoff. With the force and speed with which the jets accelerated during takeoff, even the smallest object could cause problems.
Once the inspection of the runway was over, Captain Howard made his way back over to the flag bridge. As he made his way up the steps, he looked south to what was left of the Mexican warships. It’d been quiet since their attack, and Captain Ford had debriefed him earlier in the day about a possible treaty that was being worked on.
Howard felt that something was off. Yes, they’d managed to beat the Mexican navy back to the coast of the Baja Peninsula, but their army still had inroads in Arizona and New Mexico. And if Gallo was bold enough to attack the Texas border like he had, Howard had a hard time believing he would give up just like that.
The attack on Texas wasn’t a strategic one, it was a battle of passion. Texas represented something to Gallo, and until he got it, Howard knew the fight was far from over.
“Officer on deck!” Pint announced.
“At ease, gentlemen,” Howard replied. “Any new movement out there?”
“No, sir. We haven’t picked anything up on our radar, and our scouts have confirmed that most of the Mexican warships are still stationed in their ports on the peninsula.”
“Good. Where are we with our repairs?”
“Sir, before we go over that, I was hoping I could speak with you privately.”
“Of course. We can use my quarters.”
The captain’s office was large by aircraft carrier standards but still small compared to a normal room. Howard took a seat, but Pint remained standing.
“You can sit down, Master Chief,” Howard said.
“Thank you, sir.”
“What’s on your mind?”
“Sir, once our communications were operational again, the first call I made was to my wife.”
“Is everything all right?”
“Yes, sir. It’s nothing like that. She’s fine. But I was curious about what’s happening back home.
“Congress declared war. There’s bound to be a few news articles about it.”
“It’s not just that, sir. There seems to be growing support for the Southwest. People are talking. There’s a debate happening tomorrow about what’s been going on.”
“What’s your point?”
“I guess I’m just trying to make sense of it, sir. Everything that those politicians have done brought this war on us. Each time there is a viable solution available to fix our problems, they shoot it down. That’s what we’ve been fighting to protect? That’s what our nation has come to?”
