by Matt Rogers
‘You worked your way up to senator.’
‘I’m not good at it. I’ll be out in the next election. I don’t know how I managed. I present a good package, but I just wilt when shit hits the fan.’
‘So you finally took a bribe?’ King said, starting to piece it together. ‘The mother of all bribes? Because you went your whole life being a pushover?’
‘Pretty much. I’m not involved.’
‘You are involved. No matter how much you like to say you aren’t.’
‘Please don’t kill me. I don’t know as much as you think I do.’
‘I want you to tell me what you do know.’
‘Okay. Fischer approached me. He had the confidence. He had the charm. He made it all so easy. He offered me an obscene amount of money if I’d tell him certain sensitive details about the U.S. government’s black operations programs that only I had knowledge of. So I told him. And then he said he had something coming up that he didn’t want to be disturbed about, so he asked how much effort it would take to put Black Force’s top solo operatives on other continents for a few short days. I told him I could do it. I felt useful for once. And it turned out I was pretty damn good at it. I was doing something with my life, you know … look, I’m not trying to justify it. I did a horrible thing. I used my relationship with Lars to feed him bad intel. I used everything I’d been told from a multitude of different governments. British journalists in Mali, you name it. I spun it into Americans at risk. All of it. So now all of you are away, and there’s no threat of some human prodigy interfering with what he’s got planned.’
‘You bought this place with what he paid you?’
Allen nodded. ‘I made up a cover story about how I came into money, but it was all from Fischer’s shell corps. He funnelled it to me without anyone knowing. He’s a goddamn financial wizard. Knows his way around offshore bank accounts.’
‘Where’d he get the money?’
Allen raised an eyebrow. ‘You don’t know?’
‘I don’t keep up with current affairs. Enlighten me.’
‘Stanley Fischer’s famous. He’s as Republican as you can get, and he has the backstory to boot. He took three companies public that he built from the ground up, one after the other. Real rags to riches story. He’s worth over a hundred million. Now he’s turned to politics. Claims he’s only going to take a dollar salary if he’s elected governor. He has big goals for the position.’
‘Maybe too big. How’s an unspecified attack going to help him win an election?’
‘You’ll have to ask him.’
‘Where is he?’
‘In Ohio. Obviously.’
‘You have his address?’
‘Of course.’
‘If you feed me the wrong address, I’ll never stop hunting you. You know what I did to your security. It won’t be hard to track you down.’
Allen shrugged, dejected, defeated. ‘If I don’t help you as much as I can, then Fischer will succeed and you’ll crucify me. Even if you don’t kill me, it’ll all go public. I’d rather you ended my life than everyone I know finding out what I did. Is that good enough to know I wouldn’t lie to you?’
‘It’ll do. Did he even hint at what the attack might be?’
Allen shook his head. ‘He didn’t trust me. He just used me. He knew I felt useless and he took advantage of it. I saw that from the moment I went through with his requests. But … who can I turn to? Who could I approach?’
‘You could have come forward with the information you knew.’
‘I’d already deceived the most important division in the U.S. military. My head was on the chopping block. And like I said, I’m weak. I just want to … bury my head in the sand. God…’
King grimaced. Part of him felt sorry for Arnold Allen. Another part wanted to put a bullet between the man’s eyes right here, right now. Because if Stanley Fischer had to remove the most dangerous active operatives from the United States to mitigate any threat of interference, then he was involved in some serious shit.
And Allen knew that.
Wilful ignorance wouldn’t cut it.
‘Is there anything you’re leaving out?’ King said. ‘Because I think you have your head on your shoulders. I think you know you’ve made a huge mistake, but you were too chicken shit to try and crawl out of the hole you dug for yourself. So if there’s anything you might think I need to know, tell me right now. Do it for your own conscience. I’m the one guy who can stop this from happening.’
Allen shook his head. ‘I swear, King. I don’t know anything else. And I know what I’ve done. I’ll never be able to describe how sorry I am.’
‘How do you know my name?’
‘You’re renowned in the community. There aren’t many of us who know who you are. But to those who do … you’re a phenom.’
‘Then you’d better hope I can prevent this from happening. Before it’s too late.’
‘Go now. Fischer will be at home. Do what you did to me. He’ll break, like I did.’
‘If you’re lying about any of this…’
‘What reason do I have to lie?’
‘Maybe you want me out of the house. Maybe you’re scared.’
‘I want you out of the house — don’t get me wrong. But I also don’t want people to die because of my own weakness.’
‘Then you might be able to find some kind of redemption, after all.’
‘Please stop him. He’s relentless. He knew exactly how to push my buttons.’
The victim complex grated on King’s nerves, so he stood up, planted a hand on top of Allen’s head, and like a mother scolding her child, said, ‘Sit here, shut the fuck up, and think about what you’ve done. I wouldn’t call the police. I wouldn’t call anyone. Not until this is all wrapped up. Someone from Black Force will visit you. Until then … try to think about how you’re going to approach the rest of your life. Because from my vantage point, you’re well and truly fucked. There’s no way this isn’t coming to light. Not after you made such a stupid decision to buy a place like this. What will your friends and family think if you’re blamed for a fatal attack on home soil? How will they treat you?’
Leaving Arnold Allen a horrified, broken shell of his former self, King left the giant mansion as silently as he’d entered it. The realisations would be dawning on the senator, lurching his mind in a dozen different directions at once. King put himself in the feeble man’s shoes. A lifetime of getting thrust around by anyone who ordered it, he probably relished the chance to subtly influence a major event and get paid to do so. But now his worst nightmare had come to life. People had investigated his deception. They hadn’t chalked it up to a simple intelligence error. They’d prodded and poked. And it had all come to light.
In the courtyard outside, one of the suit-clad security guards had made it to his feet. The other two were seated on the gravel underneath the pre-dawn sky, their eyes glazed over, dealing with a pair of concussions. The sole man with his wits about him saw King exit the building and made a half-hearted attempt to get in his way, puffing his chest up even though he could barely keep his legs underneath him.
King didn’t even bother pulling out his weapon.
He drilled a vicious elbow horizontally across the man’s face, flattening him to the gravel with such effortlessness that it almost seemed rehearsed. He wouldn’t kill these men, but everything else was on the table. With the guy laid flat out on his back, King turned to the dazed pair still conscious, both unarmed, confused as to what had unfolded.
‘You’re protecting the scum of the earth,’ he said. ‘Reconsider your career choices.’
Then he left.
21
He headed north-west for Ohio, operating on autopilot due to sheer fatigue, the tiredness starting to hit him as he exited Allen’s gated community and returned to the dreary monotonous bore of long-distance vehicular travel. The Hyundai almost put him to sleep several times, but he didn’t dare stop. If he ran off the road because of tiredn
ess, that would only result in a single fatality.
His own.
If he didn’t stop whatever the hell Stanley Fischer had planned, he imagined there would be far more than one death involved.
He had to admit it was impressive vigilance on the governor’s part. Apparently threatened by the upcoming election, he was so adamant to succeed with this plot that he’d deliberately flushed Black Force’s best operatives out of the country under the guise of accurate orders. If King was in the man’s shoes, he never would have thought of taking such drastic measures.
But maybe word was spreading of an unknown, unofficial division. Perhaps some of the solo warriors who blazed trails of destruction across the globe were steadily becoming the stuff of legend. Rumours inevitably spread. Certain informed parties wanted to know more.
And Arnold Allen had obliged.
He was a liability. King didn’t have the sociopathic tendencies to gun the man down on the spot, but he would need to be dealt with. Whether that involved arrest and a closed trial or something darker, he would leave it to Black Force’s internal workings to sort the issue out. That wasn’t his job.
His job was to prevent catastrophes.
And duty called.
As the deep orange rays of sunlight dawned over the horizon, bringing on a new day, King slapped himself in the face to keep himself awake and dialled Lars from the same disposable phone he’d picked up on the way out of Dulles.
‘It’s bad,’ he said. ‘It’s really bad.’
‘Shit.’
‘Allen was paid off by the governor of Ohio to feed you bogus information. There’s something happening in the state. Today. He’s trying to influence the upcoming election.’
‘You’re kidding.’
‘Wish I was.’
‘Well, whatever happens, we know it’s him. We’ve got him.’
‘I’d rather it didn’t happen, Lars.’
‘What did you do with Allen?’ Lars said, trepidation in his voice.
‘Nothing,’ King said. ‘Relax. He’s in shock. I left him in the house.’
‘Did you hurt him?’
‘Couple of bruises. Nothing like what I thought I’d have to do.’
‘That’s rather unlike you.’
‘He’s the pawn. As much as I wanted to punish him, he’s not the brains behind this. Stanley Fischer manhandled him, just like how everyone’s manhandled him his entire career.’
‘He’s the goddamn senator of New York with a spare mansion in Virginia. I’m sure he’s doing alright.’
‘A mansion funded by Fischer.’
‘I thought…’
‘All bullshit. What did he feed the media?’
‘Said he’d been squirrelling his military pension into cryptocurrencies and other high-risk investments and hit it big. Made millions. Wouldn’t shut up about how he wanted to do good with the money, though.’
‘Then he bought himself a compound in Virginia. How noble of him.’
‘Well, if it was blood money, then there’s your explanation. I just can’t wrap my head around the fact that it’s Fischer.’
‘You know him.’
‘I know of him. He’s as hard-nosed as it gets, but…’
‘Allen said the same thing.’
‘He’s a good guy. At least, I thought he was.’
‘I’m en route to his place. Allen gave me the address.’
‘You think you’ll make it before he leaves for work?’
‘He won’t be at work today. Whatever he’s co-ordinating, it’ll take all of his attention. He can’t keep quiet about it in the governor’s office. He’ll be at home. Trust me.’
‘What are you going to do to him?’ Lars said.
‘Exactly what I did to Arnold Allen. Only I’ll come in ten times as hard. Because now I know what he’s up to. Allen was a mystery.’
‘You won’t hold back?’
‘Not a chance. This is bad, Lars. He sent me halfway across the globe to Northern Mali, for Christ’s sakes. What do you think he’s trying to take that many precautions for?’
‘Bombing. School shooting. You name it. Anything can be twisted to favour his policies with certain false motivations.’
It hit King all at once. ‘Oh, God, that’s what he’s going for.’
‘Politicians.’
‘Fucking politicians.’
‘Now you know why I was so adamant about Black Force being separate. Our funds come straight from the Treasury. Unseen, unheard, unknown. We can stay far away from that web of madness.’
‘You let it affect you,’ King said. ‘Whether you want to admit it or not. You did a favour for a friend, and you were blind to the consequences.’
‘I know. I’m sorry.’
‘I’m an hour away from Fischer’s place.’
‘He’ll have security. He won’t be as incompetent as Allen.’
‘I hope he does.’
‘Give ‘em hell.’
‘When do I not?’
‘Report back as soon as you can. I’ll do whatever I can to place all of Ohio on high alert. That’s the best I can do for now.’
‘I appreciate it.’
‘Come back in one piece.’
‘I was just fighting extremists in Mali. I can handle a governor.’
‘I know.’
‘And I’m angry.’
‘I fear for him.’
‘You shouldn’t. Doesn’t matter what happens to him.’
‘You don’t get angry often.’
‘Yeah, well, now I am. This is some bullshit. Do I have full permission to raise hell?’
‘Do whatever the hell you want. Ball’s in your court. I fucked up by sending you to Mali when my own subconscious doubted it. I can admit when I’m wrong. But you know the drill.’
‘I’m a vigilante citizen,’ King said, repeating what had been drilled into his head more times than he could count. ‘Anything I do is my own responsibility. If I’m apprehended on an operation no-one will come to my rescue. I’ll be chalked up as a paranoid civilian who took matters into my own hands. I’ll rot in jail.’
‘Precisely. And Fischer will keep doing what he’s doing.’
‘Now I’m angrier.’
‘Good luck, brother.’
King hung up, squashed the Hyundai’s accelerator to the floor of the footwell, and felt the tiny hatchback surge underneath him. The passing fields flashed by on either side. He overtook a lorry, and continued at the same pace.
He had ground to cover.
22
This time, there was no need to lay low.
King knew exactly what the stakes were, and exactly what he needed to do. Stanley Fischer lived in a modern extravaganza of a mansion, in direct contrast to Arnold Allen’s old-school tastes. King had pulled up a satellite photo of the governor’s house on the drive, marvelling at the smooth edges and dark grey colour palette. It looked like something out of a futuristic movie, complete with floor-to-ceiling tinted windows running around all three storeys. Like Allen’s place, Fischer owned a giant swathe of land, and he’d slapped his compound right in the middle of the lawns.
That way, he could see enemies approaching from a distance.
Thankfully, King couldn’t give a shit about trying to sneak up on the compound. For good measure, he unscrewed the thick suppressor off the barrel of the Glock 17, opting for intimidation over stealth. There were relevant times for each approach. This time, he needed a show of force.
He barrelled through the front gates, destroying half the Hyundai in the process. The hood groaned and twisted, metal screeching against metal, and the seatbelt jerked so violently against his collar bone that for a startling moment he thought he’d snapped it clean in two. But the pain subsided, replaced by a dull migraine fingering at his temples.
A headache had never stopped Jason King mid-rampage.
Throughout the collision he kept pressure on the accelerator, and the feeble hatchback groaned in protest as it bent a gap in th
e two rusting iron gates. The car effectively demolished, King felt the chassis shudder around him as it squeezed through the crack. He clenched his teeth and kept the Glock 17 at the ready, just in case any hostiles presented themselves.
Right there.
There was a guard booth tucked behind one corner of the perimeter fence, invisible from the outside. King spotted it the moment it came into view and twisted the Hyundai toward it. He wasn’t travelling fast, but he didn’t need to be. They wouldn’t be anticipating a head-on collision.
Sure enough, a wide-eyed guard still dazed in the early hours of the morning stumbled out of the small hut, almost unable to comprehend the small hatchback barrelling toward him.
King hit him in the legs, taking the guy off his feet. His limbs flailed in all directions as he tumbled across the hood, splintering the windshield as he continued rolling. He passed over the roof and King surged off the mark, depositing the guy in a broken heap in the wake of the hatchback’s mad charge.
The guy would survive.
That was enough.
He was sheltering a soon-to-be mass murderer.
He deserved a whole lot worse.
King gunned the Hyundai up the twisting driveway, weaving through acres of neat grass. Frost from the low overnight temperatures still hovered atop each individual blade, making the fields appear glistening. With the rising sun flooding across the horizon, the setting seemed strangely serene, despite the circumstances.
Then the giant concrete mansion appeared and King forgot all about the scenery.
He kept the accelerator pressed to the floor, and by the time he made it to the gravel courtyard in front of the mansion — eerily similar to Allen’s place, besides the obvious architectural differences — the speedometer read fifty miles an hour.
