Critical Error

by Murray Mcdonald

  Sam stamped on Alex’s right hand, crushing the bones, rendering it useless. He kicked the gun from the man’s hand before walking into the kitchen and seeing his worst nightmare. The lifeless bodies of his wife and son sat awkwardly under the window. Sam turned and walked back to the last of the four men. Tears streamed down his face as the memories of his wife and son flashed through his mind.

  A kick to the ribs brought the man round.

  “Who sent you?”

  “You know who sent us!” replied Alex who already knew he was dead.

  “Who gave the order?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Sam stamped on Alex’s hand, grinding it further into the floor.

  “Who?”

  “I don…”

  Sam raised the gun and shot Alex’s kneecap clean off. Alex passed out almost instantly from the intense pain but was kicked back to consciousness.

  “Who?”

  “I really don’t know,” struggled Alex through gritted teeth, the pain unbearable.

  “Well you’re absolutely fuck all use to me!” spat Sam as he shot the other kneecap.

  Sam walked outside and taking a shovel, he began to dig, ignoring the screams from Alex. Within twenty minutes, he hit metal. Ten minutes later, he had retrieved a trunk that he had hoped he would never see again. Pulling the trunk from the hole, he loaded three of the bodies into the now empty hole and covered them with earth, carefully replacing the turf on top. Comfortable the hole wouldn’t be found, he walked back to the shingle beach and retrieved Goldie and carried her back to the cabin, placing her carefully at his wife and son’s sides.

  Kissing them all goodbye, Sam stood up and walked out of the kitchen. He doused the cabin in petrol and with a heavy heart and vengeance in his mind, he set fire to his family and home. The final screams of Alex reverberated around the small island as the cabin burned to the ground.

  Sam Baker was back and all hell was about to break loose.

  Chapter 10

  Washington D.C.

  Hart Senate Building

  “Mr Chairman?”

  The Senior Senator for Montana and current Chairman of the Senate Appropriations Committee for Defense turned in the corridor and was met by the sight of an exceedingly attractive young woman dressed from head to toe in Armani. He knew it was Armani because his wife refused to wear anything else. The tall and athletic blonde was drawing more than a few admiring glances from the Senator’s aides.

  “Yes, Miss?”

  “Special Agent Clark, Amy Clark.”

  “How can I help, Agent Clark?”

  Special Agent Clark took the Chairman by the elbow and led him conspiratorially away from his three aides. Looking around to check no one was listening, she turned back to the Chairman. As she did so, the Chairman noticed a small coiled cable running to her ear.

  “Mr Chairman, we’ve received a direct threat to your life,” she said calmly.

  “By we, you mean?”

  “Sorry, Secret Service.”

  The Chairman smiled knowingly. “I’m getting three death threats a week at the moment. What’s so special about this one that it caught the SS’s attention?”

  “I’m not aware of the detail, Sir. I’ve just been instructed to place you under Secret Service protection because of a plausible threat to your life.”

  “I’ve always been told that the people we should worry about are those who don’t issue threats.”

  “Not entirely true, Sir.”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Clark, but the last thing I need just now is the Secret Service surrounding me at every turn. Anyway, people will think it’s a gimmick and I’m over inflating my importance before the nominations are concluded. I’m sorry but I’ll have to decline the offer.”

  Clark turned around and looked down the corridor where another equally well dressed young man stood at the elevator, accompanied by two uniformed officers of the US Capitol Police Force and shook her head slightly. Receiving a shrug of the shoulders from the man, she turned back to the Chairman who had watched the interaction with interest.

  “Now if there’s nothing else, Agent Clark, I really need to get back to work,” he said, checking his watch. “The Secretary of Defense is currently twiddling his thumbs waiting to give his evidence to my committee.”

  As the Chairman tried to move away, Agent Clark grabbed his arm firmly. The Chairman was a powerful man, both politically and physically, standing over six foot tall and despite being in his sixth decade, he was not a man people tackled lightly.

  The Chairman looked at the hand on his arm, before raising his eyes to meet Agent Clark’s.

  “I’m sorry, Sir, but the threat is real and we’ve been ordered to protect you, whether you like it or not,” said Agent Clark nervously.

  “By whom?” boomed the Chairman, having lost patience.

  “The Director.”

  “Well you phone that little shit and tell him I refused. And if he’s got a problem with that, tell him to grow some balls and come and see me himself, instead of sending me his little bit of fluff. Now if you don’t mind, please remove your hand.”

  Amy Clark had, since a very young age, dreamt of joining the United States Secret Service. She had dreamt many times of what would have happened had she been at Kennedy’s side on that fateful afternoon and on each occasion, she had sacrificed herself for her president. Her looks, however, more befitting of the front pages of a glossy magazine, had always worked against her. People automatically assumed her promotions or postings were earned by looks rather than merit.

  However, no-one had ever thrown the assertion at her so blatantly. The vision of a naked, overweight and thoroughly repugnant Director turned her stomach. Clark removed her hand from the Chairman’s shoulder and slapped him firmly across the face. As her hand made contact, the realization of her actions hit home, as did the noise waves reverberating down the corridor, carrying her career with them.

  Everyone in the busy corridor turned to look at the slapped face of the potential presidential candidate from Montana. The agent previously covering the elevator was already running to protect the Chairman from the woman who, rather bizarrely, had been sent to protect him. The Chairman looked at Agent Clark in stunned silence, his face stinging from the open handed slap and his mouth hanging open in complete and total surprise.

  “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” stammered Clark, her eyes filling with tears.

  The Chairman quickly came to his senses and looked around at the sea of stunned faces, all waiting to see his reaction.

  “Excuse me, excuse me!” could be heard from the small crowd as the Secret Service agent and two police officers struggled through the crowd that had formed. Without thinking, the Chairman grabbed Clark’s limp arm and ushered her into a small office, closing the door firmly behind them.

  “I don’t know what came over me. I mean, I can’t believe I hit you. Don’t worry, I’ll resign immediately,” said Clark pulling herself together.

  A banging at the door announced the arrival of her colleague.

  “Mr Chairman, Sir? Are you OK?”

  The Chairman opened the door slightly. “Fine, thank you. Now if you could just clear the on-lookers, that would be greatly appreciated,” he said before shutting the door again and turning back to a very embarrassed Special Agent Clark.

  Rubbing his cheek, he paused before he spoke.

  “Feisty little thing, aren’t you? OK, you’ve got my attention. Why should I take this threat more seriously?”

  Clark was stunned. She had fully expected a tirade from the Chairman, not a weakening of his position.

  “But I hit you?” she struggled.

  “You’re not the first and won’t be the last. Now, stop giving me the run-around and tell me why the Secret Service has its knickers in a twist over this threat.”

  “But lots of people witnessed me hit you? The press will be all over this. I’ll have to resign.”

  “You’ll do no such thing. I
’ll tell them I fully deserved it, that it was a lover’s tiff. One photo of you in the press and the suggestion I was or am your lover will do wonders for my approval ratings.”

  “But…”

  “No buts, it’s fine. The fluff comment was out of order and more a reaction to that detestable director than to you. I apologize. Now cut the crap and tell me why they’re worried.”

  “The threat came by phone, not by letter and the caller left his name and told us he had had enough of the bloody Senator from Montana. He said it was time somebody did something about the liberal piece of shit before he destroyed our great nation. He claimed to be on his way and was willing to do whatever it took to rid the country of the scumbag.”

  “Nothing unusual in that, is there?”

  “It’s not so much what he said, it’s the name he used.”

  “What?”

  “Yuri Andriev.”

  The Chairman’s face went white with horror.

  “You know him?” asked Clark, surprised.

  “Yes. Very well. Who sent you here?”

  “What?”

  “Who sent you here?”

  “I told you, the Director.”

  “Did he personally select you?” he asked firmly.

  “No, he selected my colleague Special Agent Travis who was at the elevator.”

  The Chairman looked around the office. “The uniformed officers with your colleague, did you bring them with you?”

  Clark considered the question. “No, they met us here. They were informed of the threat and joined us in the foyer. Why?”

  The Chairman looked deep into Clark’s eyes. “Can I trust you?”

  “Of course, my job is to protect you,” replied Clark, mystified as to where the Chairman was going with his questions.

  “OK, from what you’ve said, my life is at risk but it’s not from Yuri Andriev.”

  “But I’ve not told you who he is yet…”

  “I told you, I know who he is.”

  “So you know he’s the man who killed your brother?”

  A bang on the door interrupted the conversation and was followed by “Sir, are you OK?”

  “Fine thanks,” replied the Chairman.

  “That’s Travis,” said Clark referring to the voice from behind the door.

  “Special Agent Clark, your sworn duty is to protect your protectee, correct?” asked the Chairman.

  “Of course.”

  “And I am that protectee, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I believe the greatest threats to my life are the men on the other side of this door. You have to get me out of here and to a safe location asap.”

  Clark looked at him like he had completely lost his mind.

  “Those men are sworn to protect you. Don’t be ridiculous! As I said, the man who’s making threats now was the man who killed your brother three years ago. He’s a Russian assas…”

  “Agent Clark,” interrupted the Chairman. “You’ve not met my brother. There’s not a man on this earth who could kill him single-handedly. Yuri Andriev is the man who tried to kill my brother. My brother’s not dead. He just couldn’t continue working. If my brother contacted you it’s because somebody tried to kill him. That, I can assure you, is a very stupid thing to do. The men who know he’s alive would not attempt that for no reason. If they tried to kill him, they want to kill me.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Trust me, when you meet him, you’ll understand. You don’t mess with my brother, nor anyone he cares about. Now are you going to get me out of here or am I leaving on my own?”

  Chapter 11

  Sam hit the end button and threw the cell phone he had found in the speedboat into the waters of the bay and pushed the throttle forward. He didn’t look back as the last three years of his life burned fiercely behind him. Visions of his family flashed through his mind as he raced away from his past and into his history. Sam Baker had been killed for a reason and some people were going to wish he had never been reborn.

  Sam knew that his own life was irrelevant. Going to the trouble of trying to kill him could mean only one thing. His brother, the illustrious Senator from Montana and according to the polls, the soon-to-be President of the United States, had unsettled some very powerful people. Although seven years younger than his famous brother, Sam had always had to watch his brother’s back. Charles Baker was a talker. He fought his battles with wit and rhetoric, much to the infuriation of previous opponents who, having been humiliated, had often turned to violence. And that was when Sam stepped in, he was the fighter.

  As he neared the North Haven harbor, Sam slowed the speedboat and turned towards a small jetty that lay before the entrance to the harbor and pulled up alongside. The contents of the metal trunk had been emptied and most of it repacked into a large waterproof holdall. The rest was being worn. Sam checked that nobody was watching before slipping over the side and into the cold waters of the Atlantic Ocean. It had been years since he had donned his wetsuit and was most surprised to find it still fitted. His runs to work had done the trick and kept the mid-life spread at bay. As he slowly descended into the dark waters, he flicked his legs and the huge flippers went to work propelling him through the water with ease. The old technique hadn’t been lost and in no time, Sam found himself below the harbor wall and wondering how he was going to cover the distance between the water and the car park without being seen.

  His plan was to take the assassins’ car and make it look like the four men who had hired the speedboat had simply put it back in the wrong jetty and returned to the mainland in their car. The deaths and fire at his house would look like a murder suicide and the assassin would be laid to rest alongside his family. Something Sam would sort out in due course. For now, he had other priorities.

  Sam slipped off his SCUBA tank and let it drop to the ocean floor and pulled himself up and onto an empty fishing boat tethered to the harbor. He needed a diversion. Sam carefully unhooked the boat and with the boat free from its restraints, he powered the engine and thrust the throttles forward, slipping back into the water as the propellers began to turn.

  As the boat slipped out of its mooring and powered out of the harbor, chaos ensued. All eyes were suddenly focused on the runaway fishing vessel as it careened towards the outer wall of the harbor. The plan had worked perfectly. Having swum to the far end of the harbor away from the action, Sam Baker slipped out of the water and, dragging his holdall, he ran across to the car park and entered the assassins’ car. The Chrysler, much to his relief, had blacked out windows and any other ferry passengers would not be able to tell that the car was three people lighter than it should have been. With only ten minutes until departure, Sam turned the key and accelerated out of the car park just as the small fishing trawler crashed into the outer wall of the harbor. Nobody would later recall the car leaving nor would they be able to confirm who was in it.

  With no requirement to buy a ticket for the return journey, Sam drove onto the ferry with only two minutes to spare. Killing the engine, he sat back and with the doors locked, he closed his eyes. Sleep was going to be precious and thanks to his previous training, was something he could do at will and under any circumstance. Ninety minutes later and for the first time in three years, Sam Baker was back on mainland USA. And he was a man on a mission. Search, rescue and destroy. Find his brother, get him to a safe location and then systematically eliminate the enemy. This time, it was personal.

  Chapter 12

  Senator Baker walked across to the window and looked out across Constitution Avenue to the United States Supreme Court. He was one of the most powerful men in the country, in the heart of the seat of government and had never felt so vulnerable in all his life. He was surrounded by thousands of law enforcement officers sworn to protect him but didn’t know who he could trust. Even trusting the young agent in front of him was a calculated risk and he knew would elicit more than a little flak from Sam, should he live to see him. The thought of
Sam flashing through his mind prompted him into action.

  “Agent Clark, we need to get going.”

  “How? The door and corridor are covered by three men who you think have been sent to kill you!”

  “Exactly, so how are we going to get out of here?”

  Clark surveyed the small room. The only other exit was the window and it was a two floor drop to the ground below which ruled it out. She turned back to the door, it was their only exit.

  “I don’t know.”

  The door was banged again. “Agent Clark, I have to ask you to step out of the room!”

  “Agent Travis, everything’s fine, just give us a minute,” shouted Senator Baker, quietly locking the door as he spoke.

  “Sir, I’m sorry but I must ask you to come out immediately. I believe your life is at risk,” added Travis rattling the door as he tried to open it.

  “Agent Clark has informed me of that. Just give us a minute!” shouted back the Senator angrily.

  “Sir, please unlock the door, it’s imperative that I speak with you privately,” replied Travis in a more even tone.

  “I’ll bet,” said the Senator under his breath, before shouting again. “Agent Travis, will you please just give me a minute! I’m in a locked office with one of your agents and you’re guarding the door. I’m perfectly safe at the moment.”

  “That’s the problem, Sir. I’m not sure that you are.”

  Senator Baker’s head spun from the door to Clark, his eyes wide with horror. The realization that he had been suckered in by believing the beautiful woman couldn’t be the baddy. The door began to give as the Secret Service agents crashed into it.

  Agent Clark had already drawn her weapon and had leveled it at the Senator as he turned to face her.

  “Oh fuck!” he said as she pulled the trigger.