Secondary Targets

by Sandra Edwards

  Michael Hendricks was one of various identities that I created for myself long before I had the pleasure of meeting your mother and finally having you.

  As I’m sure that you’ve seen by now, in the briefcases filled with revelations, I was one of the co-founders and first active agents of an elusive organization that has never been burdened with a name. All of the particulars…names, dates, places…and anything else you need to know, including full explanations and historical background on my fellow comrades and our group can be found in one of the briefcases. The other contains various identities and access to all the financial support the two of you could ever need to keep you safe, secure, and hidden from anyone who may have inadvertently deemed you a threat based on my actions.

  I acted of my own accord in becoming involved in a task to create this organization, which would carry out missions the United States Military could not—not legally, anyway. I did it for the good of this country. I agreed to be a party to the founding of this organization for our country’s national security and for the general safety of all American citizens. But if I had known how it would play out, Gracie—if I had known that I’d meet your mother and we’d end up having you….

  But I cannot change what’s already been put into effect. And given the opportunity to go back and do it all over again I cannot say that I’d change anything. To never have created the organization would surely have been detrimental to the United States and therefore to all U.S. citizens. We could all drive ourselves crazy with “what-ifs”. But that isn’t going to do anyone any good.

  The bottom line is, they wanted Eric. And they wanted me to recruit him. I tried a feeble attempt at stalling to bide some time. I pretended to prepare the way for his recruitment, when all the while I was merely paving the way for the two of you to escape together. My hopes are that you’ll disappear someplace where none of them, not even the agents I’ve trained myself, can find you.

  Eric, you must not fight them. This is a war you cannot win. You cannot fight something that does not exist. I have provided you enough ammunition so you can make certain they keep their distance. I’ve provided documentation, which you may be able to use as leverage. The knowledge is not meant to be a means for you to wage open war with them. But you must understand, it is given to you so you will know exactly WHO you’re up against. It’s all there. Everyone that can possibly be a threat to you, there’s plenty of documentation on them in one of the briefcases.

  My advice to you is…take my daughter and disappear under the guise of new identities (which I’ve provided for you). You’ll have nothing to fear from any of these identities because no one other than myself, and now the two of you, knows anything about them. The bank accounts are clean. None of them will ever be traced back to me, much less you.

  Eric, I know the task I’m laying at your feet is one you can easily handle. You’re made of the stuff that’s needed to outsmart them all. That’s why they wanted you so badly. I was not willing to attempt a recruiting where you were concerned. First off, if you had refused you would have been accused (and convicted) of some crime or another that would have gotten you serious time in Leavenworth. If you had agreed, you and Grace would have been separated forever. Quite simply, because as a general rule the identity of Eric Wayne would have been erased. Spouses and significant others are not allowed to know the particulars of our organization, not even its existence.

  And I could not do that to you, Gracie. I could not tear Eric away from you in any shape, form, or fashion. Whether it be time in Leavenworth or in service to this country.

  Gracie, just know that I will love you forever. My love for you is my motivation for the things I do now. No matter what happens from here on out…you will live in my heart forever.

  I’m counting on you, Wayne. I’m banking on the fact that I’m not wrong about you. You take care of my daughter, you hear.

  Stay Safe and Never Let Your Guard Down,

  Michael Hendricks

  CHAPTER 39

  New York City, Queens

  Present Day

  UPON occasion, Eric may have considered himself an idiot for letting them get to Grace, but he wasn’t stupid—not by a long shot.

  He could easily guess why the caller had given him a time frame to get to Grace. Simply put, they didn’t want to give him a chance to carefully study the contents of the briefcases thoroughly.

  The caller could safely bet that, with all the confusion and commotion going on, neither Eric nor Marcus had had time to carefully inspect the contents of both briefcases. Otherwise, they would’ve never arrived back at the safe house in time to answer the phone. Then again, maybe they were well aware of exactly when Eric and Marcus had returned to the house.

  To tell the truth, Eric didn’t care what was in the other briefcase. He could take a real good guess that it had something to do with that damned organization. He also knew they wanted it, whatever it was, and he was willing to accommodate them in order to get Grace back safely.

  Eric didn’t care one way or another about the contents of either briefcase. All the money and power that either satchel contained, or could lead to, was not worth risking Grace’s life. The contents of the cases paled in comparison.

  But he was curious about the information the General had gathered on these lunatics. It must be pretty important if they’d gone to all the trouble of wiping the General from existence, and now they were threatening Grace and Cherilyn just for GPs.

  Considering the very strong possibility that Cherilyn was one of their own, Eric understood and shuddered at the ramifications of that little tidbit. Even so, by Cherilyn’s account on the matter, they probably wouldn’t know it if she was. Either that, or they just didn’t care.

  That notion grinded Eric’s nerves into mush.

  He looked at Marcus with an anxious glance. He divided his attention, strategically, between his friend and the road. Marcus had been studying a map of the city, forever it seemed. That too set Eric on edge.

  Eric settled his sights back on the road. He’d do well to stick with driving and let Marcus worry about where to go. It’d be a shame to get into a car wreck now that he was so close to finding Grace.

  At least it felt like they were close. They’d been given a location to bring the briefcases and Eric had to hope he’d be able to trade them for Grace.

  “Our target location is in a warehouse near the Brooklyn Bridge.” Marcus blew out a helpless sigh. “Do you realize how many warehouses there are down there?”

  “I hope it won’t be too hard to find the one they’re talking about,” Eric said, staring into the traffic straight ahead.

  “Oh, something tells me…” Marcus let out a sarcastic chuckle, catching a small glimpse of reality. “They’ll make it real easy on us.”

  He got the significance of the briefcases in his lap. He, like Eric, could guess that one of them contained all of the General’s documentation regarding his organization. Somebody wanted it. They wanted it so badly, they’d gone to the trouble to kidnap Grace and Cherilyn to get it. The General’s people weren’t playing. And neither was Marcus.

  Society had taken Cherilyn from him once before, and he’d be damned if he’d let them do it again. Well, maybe not these people exactly, but who wasn’t the issue. It didn’t matter who. What mattered now was that he got Cherilyn back.

  He’d received a small taste of what it was like to have her back in his life again, and he liked it. It was a good feeling, one he intended to keep.

  This time it was going to be different. This time Marcus was not going to allow her to simply walk away. And above all else, he was not going to let them take her away either.

  Eric’s stress had mounted just the same as Marcus’s over the girls’ disappearance. But Eric’s anxiety over Grace’s plight was mixing with a new frustration. He could easily get lost traveling through the streets along the East River because it all looked the same.

  The Brooklyn Bridge off in the distance had to mea
n they were getting close, didn’t it? His heart raced with anticipation, wrapped in fear. He fought in vain with the notion that he may not be able to live up to the idea of the kind of hero Grace needed.

  Thoughts of being a little too late…seconds in fact…clouded his senses. Nasty images flooded his mind, images of those jackasses killing her anyway, even after he’d given them the briefcases, and then forcing him to stand by and watch helplessly as the life drained from her body. He’d rather die.

  Intense anger flared inside Eric. If they harmed a single hair on her head then they’d better kill him while they were at it. Otherwise, he vowed to make it his personal mission in life to hunt them down, one by one or all in a group. It didn’t matter to him. He wasn’t picky. But he wouldn’t rest until he saw each and every one of them dead.

  Eric had finally embraced reality. His fears didn’t matter. The notion that he wanted to be rid of her—which he’d tried in vain to convince himself of—didn’t matter. She could run all she wanted. Hell, he could run this time, but it wouldn’t change the truth.

  He loved Grace. And the thought of her death terrified him. She was with him now—

  Well, she would be if he got to her in time. And he was pretty sure she’d still be around tomorrow. After that...hell, he wasn’t going to concern himself about the future. He had to make the most of the here and now. As long as they were together today, that’s all that mattered. And no matter what happened tomorrow, they’d always have today.

  “Hey,” Marcus’s tone brimmed with excitement. “Here it is,” he said, pointing toward one of the warehouses. The sign on the side of the building identified it as Bremerson and Tichner.

  Eric’s nerves calmed a bit now that they had finally arrived. He had to find Grace and he had to do it now. No matter what happened tomorrow, he wasn’t about to let it end today.

  He hesitated before opening the car door and glanced at Marcus. “I’ll go in through the front. You come in from the back.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Marcus said, rolling out of the car.

  They cautiously approached the warehouse and both tucked handguns inside the waistbands of their jeans. Good thing Cherilyn had given them an extra. They pulled their shirts out, down, and over the hardware, concealing their weapons.

  Eric carried with him Michael Hendricks’s briefcases and all their contents. He eased opened the front door of the warehouse, and Marcus disappeared around back.

  Caution slowed Eric’s steps as he entered a building that was being used for storage. Everywhere he looked, numerous crates of various sizes had been stacked high upon each other, in places all the way to the ceiling.

  The cold iron of a gun barrel, a six shooter he’d bet, prodded the back of his head. The opportunity to defend himself had passed. Unfortunately. He raised his hands in surrender.

  “Don’t turn around,” his assailant instructed.

  Why did that voice sound familiar? Eric knew it from somewhere. But who was it? Think.

  “Don’t say a word,” the familiar voice said. “Just move forward and slowly.”

  Walter Holloway. Cherry Point’s current commanding general. All this time, it was General Holloway. Damn. Why hadn’t he seen that? Confusion mingled with Eric’s anger over what may be happening to Grace.

  Eric filed through his memories, back to the day of the General’s funeral. Holloway, a Colonel back then, had offered his condolences to Grace. She’d been despondent, overwrought with grief. Had he taken her aloof manner as an indication that she knew?

  Eric moved forward in slow, guarded steps. He had to cooperate for now. He wouldn’t be of much use to Grace dead.

  Marcus slipped inside the building and into a back door view of the massive storage crates stacked high on top of one another. He got the feeling this place might turn into a maze. Could be good. Maybe not. Lots of hiding places, and that’d be okay so long as he and Eric were the ones doing the hiding.

  He retrieved the .9mm handgun, he’d gotten from Cherilyn, from the waistband of his jeans. Readying himself for anything, he left nothing to chance. He’d accept any consequences so long as it saved Cherilyn’s life.

  A shot echoed through the warehouse, and Marcus knew the bullet whizzing through the air was headed straight for him. A millisecond later, immense pain exploded in his upper body.

  He regretted missing the chance to tell Cherilyn goodbye. Confusion cobwebbed his brain and he felt his legs giving out as his mind succumbed to the darkness.

  The echo of gunfire, cold and unfeeling, sliced through Eric. His heart froze and then shriveled. “Who was that?” he demanded to know, yet fearful of the answer.

  “Well, let’s hope it wasn’t your girlfriend.” His companion let out one of those evil laughs that thrived on heartlessness. “Be a shame, after you’ve come all this way.”

  Eric blasted his anxiety over Walter Holloway turning out to be his enemy. “If she’s dead—” he warned. “You’d better kill me too.”

  “Why’s that?” The assailant baited Eric further. “You just can’t live without her?”

  “If she’s dead, and you leave me alive,” Eric’s tone turned vicious. “I will kill you.”

  “Ooh. Touchy.” Holloway taunted Eric as their journey ended at a closed door. “Well, here we are. I’d watch that attitude with Trident, if I were you.” He acted as if he was offering Eric a useful tip.

  “Trident?” Eric let the name wander through his thoughts. Who the hell is Trident? And how many more of you are there?

  “Trident wants the briefcases,” Holloway said, his tone friendlier now. He opened the door and gave Eric a modest push.

  Eric stumbled into an unbelievable sight. Grace in a chair, bound and gagged. She was alive, but that offered Eric little assurance, considering. He couldn’t rest until she was safe.

  Cherilyn, on the other hand, sat behind the desk, her feet propped up in contentment. She was way too comfortable for a kidnap victim.

  Reality sank into his gut.

  This was not the time to panic. This was the time to come up with a new plan. This was the time to kick Cherilyn’s ass. He’d known there was something up with her. He should’ve trusted his instincts.

  Eric took a quick visual review of Grace. She looked scared, but she appeared to be okay, physically.

  A measure relief swept Eric up in hope. If she was alive, there was always hope. Hope for what at this point, he wasn’t sure. But as long as she was breathing, he wasn’t about to give up hope.

  “Good lord.” Cherilyn’s feet slammed to the floor. “It’s about time you got here,” she said, her wicked eyes rolling.

  Sure, there was something about her that he hadn’t liked, but he hadn’t pegged her for being involved. Maybe I’m not so good at this.

  Eric’s mental thrashing ceased once he caught sight of the handgun, a six shooter and bullets, lying on the desk.

  “Cherilyn?” Anxiety fueled his tone. “What’s going on?”

  “I thought it was pretty clear,” she said. “I want those briefcases. Or Gracie here gets it.”

  Marcus. Where the hell was Marcus? “God, Cherilyn, they shot Marcus!” How could she let that happen? She loved Marcus, or at least Eric thought so. Maybe he was wrong. He’d been wrong before.

  “Oh, I know.” Her reaction was heartless and cruel. Definitely not that of a woman in love. At least, not by Eric’s standards. “I really didn’t want it to come to that,” she said, with a grand gesture. “But once you guys got to my house, I knew right away…he’d never turn on you. Not even for me.” Remorse darkened her eyes with regret.

  Perhaps Eric’s initial analysis of her was off. But... “Why?” Eric asked, knowing full-well that Marcus wouldn’t be the only one dying here today.

  “There was no way in hell that I was going to let Michael Hendricks, or his beloved little family, live happily ever after.” Her words snapped with spite. “Why should you all get to live happily ever after? I didn’t.”

&n
bsp; “Why the General?” Eric scavenged through the confusing thoughts muddling his brain. “You didn’t even know him.”

  “Didn’t know him?” Her heated comeback shattered reality as Eric knew it. “Oh, I knew that son-of-a-bitch all right. Michael Hendricks stole my life from me. He recruited me, never giving it a second thought that he’d taken away every possibility of me and Marcus ever reuniting.” The anger Cherilyn had been harboring, possibly for years, bubbled up and boiled over, chafing her tone. “And, if I couldn’t live happily ever after, then neither was he. And subsequently, neither are you.”

  “You’re Trident.” He knew it the moment Holloway had pushed him through the door, but saying it out loud was like realizing it for the first time.

  A day from long ago flashed in Eric’s mind. The day he’d gone to the General’s office, before the man died, and learned about the secret compartment hidden in the desk. The General had been on the phone, arguing with someone named Maddie.

  One of Cherilyn’s alters was named Madelyn, evident by the mail on her countertop back at the safe house. Was it Cherilyn the General had been arguing with that day?

  “Oh, you catch on fast.” Cherilyn chuckled but it died out quickly. Her brow furrowed and she gave him a scrutinizing glare, like she was trying to figure out whether or not he was playing stupid.

  That, my dear, is something you’ll never know. Laughter rippled through his mind. At least he’d one-upped her somehow.

  And now he had to persuade her that she was wrong—for Grace’s sake. “You’re taking what happened to you and Marcus out on the wrong people.”

  “No, I’m not.” Her cool, quick response suggested that his charm had little effect on her. “Your General made it so that Marcus and I could never be together again.” She shrugged and tilted her head. “So I decided one good turn deserves another. It’s only fair that I took from him, what he’s kept from me.”