by S L Shelton
Glenn wrenched his arm to the side trying to free himself.
“It’s just you and me now, tough guy,” Wolf said, crushing down on his wrist, eliciting a howl of anger and agony from Glenn. There was something satisfying about the response.
“Remember this?” Wolf asked, nodding toward Glenn’s wrist as hairline fractures began to form in the ulna and carpal bones.
In desperation, Glenn released Wolf’s leg and reached up, going for an eye gouge.
Good for you, Glenn! Wolf thought. Ignore the pain and go for the win.
Wolf peeled the bigger man’s fingers away, cracking them backward at the joints as he subdued the arm, producing a louder more primal scream from Glenn.
Wolf lowered his face close to Glenn’s and smiled at him.
“Your ground game sucks, Gold,” Wolf whispered.
Glenn arced his head forward in an attempted headbutt. Wolf reacted faster, dipping his head down meeting Glenn’s nose with his own forehead. Glenn’s nose erupted in blood. But had Glenn been coherent enough to notice, he would have seen a temporary “melting” of Wolf’s facial muscles, his eye, cheek, and mouth drooping like a stroke victim—the head butt had shifted the bullet in Scott’s head a fraction of a millimeter creating a temporary neural path disruption.
Wolf quickly rerouted the affected region’s impulses, and muscle control returned to his face.
Damn you, Scott. Why did you have to dive in front of that bullet?
Wolf began his interrogation as Harbinger had on him—showing how much it hurts first, then asking the questions. He grasped Glenn’s thumb and began to twist it, slowly, letting the pain build to the point he couldn’t stand it. When Glenn’s face showed he had reached his pain threshold, he snapped it backward.
Glenn screamed.
Wolf let off the pressure enough for Glenn to compose himself before lowering his face to within inches, then he smiled, cool, calm, mechanical. “Where’s Ned Richards?”
Glenn spat saliva and blood onto Wolf’s face.
Wolf let it drip off him and back onto Glenn’s face before twisting the thumb more, never losing the smile on his face, never getting angry.
“Fuck you!” Glenn screeched
Wolf pulled Glenn’s broken wrist and locked it in the fold of his leg before grasping his face, placing his thumbs on either side of Glenn’s jawbone. As he applied pressure, he could feel the hinge of bone begin to give way.
Glenn screamed louder and flailed his pinned arms against the backs of Wolf’s leg, no doubt causing him more discomfort considering the breaks in his wrist and fingers.
“—out edder,” Glenn cried, desperately.
Wolf released his grip a bit.
Glenn was crying, weeping almost childlike.
“Mount Weather,” he said when he had enough movement in his jaw to speak again. “He’s in the Emergency Command and Control Center at Mount Weather.”
Wolf knew he was telling the truth. Though he could see it in the micro traces through Glenn’s pained expression, Wolf “felt” the truth in his words as well—something not even Scott was attuned to.
“Good boy,” he said, then gave him a light slap on the face as he rose from Glenn’s chest. He pushed himself backward across the ground until he was next to Glenn’s dead bodyguard.
Hawkins and Nick were very close now. They would reach the clearing in a matter of seconds.
Wolf reached down and touched the other guard’s neck with his fingertips—no pulse. “A friend of yours?” Wolf asked, patting the dead man on the back.
Glenn looked backward and saw his revolver but turned back to Wolf.
Wolf smiled at him, nodding toward the gun. “You think you’re fast enough?”
It was a trick question. Wolf was twice the distance from the revolver as Glenn, and in his desperate situation, that’s probably all that mattered to him. With impressive speed, the bigger man lunged backward for the pistol. Wolf reached under the dead man and ripped free the knife embedded in his throat.
As Glenn turned, his fingers locked around the butt of the little .38 snub nose, Wolf let slip the blade, sending it slicing through the air. It landed with a crunch sinking into Glenn’s neck, dropping the big man with a thud.
Nick and Hawkins arrived just then, Hawkins kneeling next to Wolf, weapon drawn. Nick ran to Glenn, and after kicking the gun from his flailing hand, grabbed Glenn’s collar.
“Damn it! Did you find out where Richards is?” Nick asked, turning to Wolf.
“Mount Weather Emergency Command Bunker,” Wolf said quietly, finally taking the opportunity to catch his breath and lower his heart rate.
Nick turned, panting heavily, back to Glenn and smiled as the life bled from him. “Too bad. I was looking forward to killing you slowly.”
Glenn, paralyzed by the knife strike, only gurgled in desperation.
Nick leaned forward and whispered, “Enjoy hell—you treasonous piece of shit.” He dropped Glenn to the ground and let him choke on his own blood.
Once the former Baynebridge man had ceased moving, Nick offered Wolf a hand up. “I’ll never say a word if you don’t.”
Wolf lifted his eyebrows before walking away. “About what?”
“John would’ve wanted to interrogate him,” Nick said, following.
Wolf shrugged “All we needed to know was Richards’s location. Now we know it.”
Hawkins looked up from the other dead security man. “Do we need anything from the bodies?”
Wolf looked back and shook his head. “Their phones are fried. So, unless they have important paper on them, leave ‘em. The coyotes will find them soon enough.”
Nick stopped, hands on his hips, breathing raggedly. “Hold up. You mean we killed these four assholes just for Richards’s location?”
“It had to look like revenge.” Wolf jogged away toward the vehicles.
Nick turned and looked at the two bodies. “Well, you certainly did a good job of that,” he said. “Four DHS employees and contractors, chased down, murdered, and left to rot?”
“Jesus, Nick. Catch your breath,” Wolf said. “I’ll meet you back at the road. We need to sanitize the truck before it’s discovered.”
Nick let Wolf go in silence and doubled over, sucking wind.
Hawkins jogged past him, patting Nick on the shoulder as he went. “Let me know when you find your testicles, princess.”
A short, breathy laugh burst from Nick and he stumbled to a jog.
“My phone’s dead,” Hawkins said, breathing hard as he caught up with Wolf and fumbled to put the phone back in his pocket. “How ‘bout you?”
“The EMP fried the phones…we were too close.”
Nick crashed through the brush behind them and came alongside Hawkins with a sideways look. “Too close, huh? If only someone had said something.”
Hawkins was about to reply but Wolf sped back up, drawing their attention to him. “We have backups in the COM chest. Keep up.”
“Do you want to tell John the bad news—or me?” Nick gasped his words between breaths.
“Bad news?”
“Yeah. Mount Weather. There’s no way in hell—”
“Don’t have a stroke trying to talk and run,” Wolf said. “Mount Weather is doable. We have the INTEL we came for.”
Nick reached out and grabbed Wolf’s sleeve, stopping him cold, though it was obvious he just wanted the rest. “The emergency command bunker at Weather is hardened. And if Richards is there, then it’s also packed with additional security. We were better off not knowing.” Nick sucked in a ragged breath and bent over. “At least we had hope before.”
Wolf shook his head and started jogging again. “You worry too much. I already know how I’m getting in.”
Nick looked up sharply, a confused crease bending his pointed features. “Wait…what?!”
“Come on…let’s get back to the truck.”
When they arrived at the road, Wolf was relieved that the vehicles hadn’t yet be
en discovered.
“I’ll try to get it running,” Hawkins said walking to the driver’s side.
Wolf went to the rear of the SUV and took an undamaged phone from the COM chest as Nick arrived, breathless. “Can you pull the pinch coil off the other vehicle?” Wolf asked, handing him a multi-tool from the chest.
“Yeah, sure,” Nick said with mild annoyance.
Wolf watched Nick walk away and hit “dial” once he was out of sight.
John answered on the third ring. “Fairfax Specialty Plumbing.”
“The tape on my water heater caught fire,” Wolf said, giving the pass-phrase for going secure.
The secure call app chimed. “What happened? Where the hell are you?”
“Relax, Momma. We’re fine. I took the kids on a field trip.”
“Is Spartan with you?” John asked.
“Yeah, but he’s a little out of breath.”
“What the hell is going on?!”
John wasn’t even remotely trying to hide his anger. Wolf smiled as he watched Nick crawl under the Homeland SUV. “We found Glenn Gold.”
Like a switch had been flipped, John’s tone shifted. “Holy shit… You got him?”
“Yeah.”
“How? Where are you?”
“I’ll brief you on everything when we get back.”
“I’ll have the SEALs set up a CONEX box for interrogation.”
“Don’t bother. He expired,” Wolf replied as he tossed his dead phone in the COM chest and relatched it. “But Richards is at Mount Weather.”
There was a momentary silence and Wolf smiled knowing he had derailed John’s reflexive tirade over killing Glenn Gold by offering up Richards’s location.
“You’re sure?”
Wolf glanced up at Hawkins messing about under the hood. “I’m sure. He didn’t give it up easy.”
“And there was no way to make it a live capture?”
“None,” he lied. He could almost see John’s clenched jaw on the other end.
“How are you…? Operationally.”
“We’re working on getting the SUV started. If we can, we’ll take it back to the ditch site and switch vehicles,” Wolf replied sitting in the open hatchway. “If not, we’ll torch everything and hoof it out.”
“Everyone is okay, then?” John asked.
“Spartan’s a little winded but other than that…”
“How many guns were traveling with Gold?”
“Three plus his own.”
John whistled. “They’re beefing up their security.”
“Can you blame them? We put a real dent in their operation.”
“How did you get that close to him?”
“We’ll talk about it when I get back,” Wolf said just as Hawkins started the truck. It sounded rough but it would get them out. “Gotta go. Goat got the truck running.”
“Monkey Wrench…how did Gold die?”
Wolf could hear the venom in John’s voice and a rush in his words. He was no doubt anxious to hear the details about the death of the man who had beaten him and left him for dead at Langley.
“Poorly, alone, and with a knife in his neck,” Wolf said, knowing exactly what would make John happy. “His eyes were wide open the whole time.”
“I’ll see you when you get back.”
“Later.”
Nick jogged over with the lunch box sized EMP coil device. “Is this thing reusable?” he asked.
Wolf shook his head as he got in the back seat. “No. But we can’t leave it to be traced. It’s not exactly a Home Depot retail item.”
Hawkins moved to get in on the driver’s side but Nick grabbed him by the shoulder. “Passenger side. I’m driving.”
Hawkins grudgingly went around, tossing two white phosphorous grenades through the back window of the Homeland Security vehicle as he went. Nick put the SUV in drive and pulled away after Hawkins had climbed in, watching the burning vehicle smoke in the rearview.
Wolf closed his eyes. As the rough hum of the engine vibrated, he went to work rerouting neural pathways around the newly inflamed tissue surrounding the bullet in Scott’s head.
Several moments of silence passed when Hawkins leaned over and whispered to Nick, “How did he catch up with both of those guys and kill them before we got there?”
Nick chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t bother whispering…he hears everything.”
Hawkins looked at Wolf and smiled awkwardly when he saw him grinning. “It’s the clean-living, sailor…clean-living.”
Nick looked up in the rearview mirror. “And don’t bother asking…no one ever gets a straight answer.”
Wolf smiled more broadly, letting one cheek rise higher than the other in a roguish expression Scott used often. “It’s a secret,” he said, leaning over against the door. “I could tell you but then I’d have to kill you.”
Hawkins laughed and sat back in his seat.
“Good job getting the truck running again, by the way…thanks,” Wolf said, using Scott’s practiced charm to solidify relationships.
Hawkins grinned, nodding.
“And don’t let Spartan give you any shit about driving too close…he once bought a shipment of shoulder-fired missiles that a giant almost used to blow up the Secretary of State and the Director of NCS.”
Nick looked up in the rearview and glared at Wolf.
Wolf smiled and closed his eyes again, folding his arms across his chest as if tucking himself in to sleep. “I had to clean up that mess, too.”
“You had help.”
“Did I? With this bullet in my head, I’ve been forgetting shit recently.”
“Asshole,” Nick muttered.
Hawkins laughed again.
“I’m kidding, Nick,” Wolf said, quietly. “You’re very important. A rare and special butterfly.”
Nick scoffed through a chuckle. “You’re lucky I can’t kick your ass anymore.”
“Could you ever? This damned head wound…I must’ve forgot that part, too.”
**
4:35 p.m.—Capitol Rotunda, Washington D.C.
GEORGE HARP, newly elected Chairman and Chief Executive Officer of Combine, strode the quiet cavernous gallery of the US Capitol with Congressman Robert Trembly, Chairman of the Homeland Security Committee. Behind them by several steps, allowing only the appearance of privacy, was a humorless-looking man in a black suit, slowly sweeping his sharp gaze around the enormous space; a Jagger—an enhanced asset, property of the Defense Intelligence Agency.
“There won’t be any action until we have enough of our people in place,” Harp said guiding the conversation into a secluded alcove. “But that’s happening at better than predicted pace.”
“Too quickly,” Congressman Trembly said, looking over his shoulder at the Jagger who followed them. “The press might not have picked up on it yet, but there are quiet conversations going on already in the Senate and House cloakrooms. You are killing too many too fast.”
Harp smiled and shook his head. “The press…the respectable press, will not pick up on it. We already manage those outlets.”
Trembly looked at Harp with suspicion. “All it takes is one.”
“No, it will take considerably more than one, and they have to survive the allegation,” Harp said. “Conspiracy theories are not newsworthy stories except for the fringe, and the fringe is dismissed by everyone except at election time.” He looked around the polished halls and gestured grandly. “Absent facts, evidence or editorial support, these ‘accidents’ and ‘deaths of natural causes’ will simply be reported as they are now—‘a sad time in our nation’s history’.”
Trembly’s shoulders fell. “Ten,” he said. “Ten members dead in little more than a month.”
“Statistically aberrant, yes, but not outside of the world of possibility,” Harp said, his frustration rising.
“And the big ones are yet to come.”
Harp took a deep breath and held it for a beat, doing his best to maintain calm while
in the Capitol. Were they not in public, Harp would’ve had the Jagger shake some sense into the man. “Congressman, if you’re having second thoughts about this, say the word and we will exclude you from further involvement.”
Trembly’s eyes grew wide. It was too late for that. It would be suicide to stop now. “No…no. That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then leave this to us,” Harp said sharply, drawing a few glances in their direction. He lowered his voice and leaned closer. “The new covert communications surveillance bill will come up for a vote, and you will be hailed for it when it nets our first conspirators.”
Trembly nodded.
Harp smiled thinly. “When it happens, you’ll be able to peel back the skin on our story giving the conspiracy theorists their bragging rights and clearing the path forward for us to make our changes.”
Trembly nodded, slowly at first and then with more enthusiasm. “You’re right, of course,” he said, looking over his shoulder at the Jagger again. “I’m just worried about appearances.”
“You have nothing to worry about,” Harp replied, patting Trembly’s shoulder. “When this is done, the conspiracy will be revealed by you, making you a hero to a grateful nation.”
Trembly smiled. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to appear hesitant. It’s in a leader’s nature to worry.”
Harp didn’t bother arguing the ridiculousness of that statement. He just reached out and shook hands with Trembly. “Quite right,” Harp said as the Jagger’s phone rang. “Now, please, relax in the knowledge that this is all being taken care of.”
“I will…and thank you again,” Trembly said as the Jagger cleared his throat.
Harp nodded at the Jagger before saying his good-bye to Trembly. Once the Congressman had walked out of earshot, Harp took the phone.
“It’s Braun, sir,” the Jagger said.
Harp nodded. “Braun…tell me you have good news for me.”
“I do, sir. The list is getting thinner as we speak,” Braun replied. “As soon as we have replacements in place, we can start working on the higher profile targets and expose the coup d’etat.”
