I, Weapon

by Vaughn Heppner

  Twilight faded into night as he drove, and his headlights washed across the highway. He gripped the steering wheel, making the turns, watching for his spot as the dark trees now looked like a wall on either side of the road. Twelve minutes later, he pulled off to the side so his tires crunched across gavel. It was half a mile before his entrance and 9:42 PM.

  He left the car keys in the ignition, opened the passenger-side door and hauled out his backpack, putting it on the gravel so people in passing cars couldn’t see it. The backpack was full of the Bass Pro Shop items and the SIG.

  Bannon had chosen the spot with care, a curve in the road hiding him from traffic. He waited until he couldn’t hear any oncoming cars. Such a situation wouldn’t last long. He slung the pack onto his right shoulder and hurried into the brush as twigs and old leaves crackled underfoot.

  He had nineteen miles to hike through rough terrain and with few trails. He wasn’t worried. He’d get there, and no one would spot him. The trouble would begin once he reached the Justice’s house.

  He didn’t know how many bodyguards Blake possessed or the type and sophistication of the security system. He’d have to play that by ear and study the place through his binoculars.

  Cinching the straps so the pack fit snugly, Bannon marched through the forest.

  -19-

  Parked along the side of the road of 17-Mile Drive was a tan van. Inside, Karl and Susan studied screens and monitors.

  “He’s really doing it,” Susan said. “He’s going for the Justice.”

  “Why does that make you nervous?” Karl asked.

  “Who’s nervous?”

  “By the sound of your voice you are.”

  “Suddenly you’re a voice analyst?” Susan asked.

  “Remember in Mexico you told me to relax. Now I’m telling you the same thing. Max is in position, we have video from the Justice’s security system and the tracking nodule lets us know exactly where Bannon is every second. This is a perfect setup.”

  “You’re wrong,” Susan said. “We’re taking out a Supreme Court Justice.”

  “Bannon is doing that.”

  “You know what I mean. The scrutiny after this will be like nothing we’ve ever seen. What if the Controller decides we know too much?”

  “ATS isn’t the mob or Los Zetas,” Karl said. “We’re government employees.”

  “Right,” Susan said. “And government employees are always helping eliminate members of the Supreme Court.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “That a moment might come when we have to provide ourselves with insurance.”

  “Against the Controller?” Karl asked.

  “And against Parker,” Susan said.

  “What does she have to do with this?”

  “She is his daughter. I’m just saying.”

  Karl eyed her. “No. You’re hiding something. What is it?”

  “Nothing. I’m just trying to look ahead. This is big and we have to cover ourselves.”

  Karl drummed thick fingers on a console. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “Didn’t having the CIA cashier you teach you anything?” Susan asked.

  “You made your point. Now, what are you suggesting?”

  “I’ll know when the moment appears,” she said. “I just want to know if you’re with me.”

  “I want to keep living, too. I’m with you. But the safest course for us is to do our job without leaving any loose ends.”

  “Meaning that Bannon must die,” Susan said.

  “Yes,” Karl said, “that’s exactly what I mean.”

  ***

  Bannon walked overnight and waited until midmorning to move camouflaged behind some viburnum shrubs. He focused his binoculars, watching Supreme Court Justice Arthur Blake. The man mowed his own front yard with a push-mower.

  That seemed strange for a powerful old man to be doing manual labor. Fortunately, Bannon had read an online brief about Blake in the Santa Cruz Library. It had mentioned the lawn mowing, saying that Blake felt it helped him keep connected to the common people who relied on him doing his job impartially. Bannon had sneered at such hypocrisy while reading that.

  The white-haired man wore a garish Hawaiian shirt carefully tucked into tan shorts and he clumped around in outlandishly white tennis shoes. He had veiny, old man’s legs and a large potbelly. Probably his black robes hid the belly back in DC. People would notice his white, wavy hair then and his grandfatherly image that portrayed wisdom and moderation.

  It’s all a lie.

  The sound of the Briggs & Stratton engine floated up to Bannon. It brought a frown to his lips. There was something on the edge of his memory…

  I used to mow lawns. But he couldn’t remember when. It must have been as a kid. Yeah. That made the most sense. Likely, in high school, he had earned extra money mowing people’s lawns. One thing he knew, in his day he had made far straighter lines than Justice Blake did down there.

  With the Bushnell binoculars, he continued to study Blake, to study the house, the outer grounds and a bodyguard, a dark-haired man with a leopard-like stride.

  That man is dangerous.

  Mrs. Blake came outside. It was two hours after the Justice had put away his mower. She was tall, statuesque, with dyed blonde hair that fell to her shoulders.

  Then a girl came outside with a tray. It had five glasses on it filled with a green liquid and a lime slice over each glass’s rim. The girl—the woman—had blonde hair, a trim figure and looked to be twenty-three, twenty-four, in that range. She wore a white tennis outfit and had the mother’s eyes and Blake’s chin.

  It’s his daughter.

  The old scoundrel accepted a glass, so did the mother, the bodyguard and then another bodyguard appeared. No. That man took the last two glasses off the tray and he hugged and kissed the daughter on the lips. Was that her boyfriend or husband? Whoever it was, the man looked fit.

  Bannon scowled behind the viburnum shrub. So Blake had a daughter and a son-in-law. What difference did that make?

  None.

  Bannon continued to study, gathering information and deciding on his approach.

  ***

  Karl stood in a billiards room. He was in another house higher up on the hill above Justice Blake’s property. A pair of electric binoculars rested on a wooden stand. The window in the room faced Blake’s house and was at the opposite point of the compass as Bannon. Karl had a satellite phone pressed against his right ear.

  “Is he ready?” the Controller asked, his voice sounding robotic due to the scrambler.

  Karl glanced up at the ceiling with its row of lights. Out of habit, he modulated his tone, making sure to sound deferential. It was difficult. The Controller had always given him full authority while in the field. Now, suddenly, the old man seemed to be micromanaging. That was always a recipe for disaster.

  “Sir,” Karl told the Controller, “Our subject is primed and armed.”

  “Where is he now?”

  Karl breathed through his nostrils. “He is in position, sir.”

  “You’ve pinpointed him?”

  “I have him on the scanner.”

  “You must get him on camera, on video.”

  “I understand,” Karl said.

  “The political fallout from this will be massive,” the Controller said. “We must have proof our subject committed the atrocity. It can never come back to haunt us. If it does, you will have to fall on your sword to protect the rest of us.”

  So Susan was right. Karl could hardly believe it. The threat thrust an icicle of fear down his spine. They played for incredibly high stakes.

  “Blake will retire tonight,” Karl said.

  “There’s been a change in Blake’s plans,” the Controller said. “The Justice wants to leave in the morning, heading back to DC.”

  “From what we’ve seen, Bannon will attack tonight.”

  “Are you ready for success?”

  “We’ve been ready for some time, sir,�
� Karl said, hinting to the old man that he would need an entire team to “fall on the sword” if this went wrong.

  The Controller grew silent before saying, “You will keep me fully apprised of any and all actions.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  With a click, the Controller hung up.

  Weighing the satellite phone in his hand, Karl set it down beside the binoculars. He picked up the binoculars and aimed them at Blake’s house. The old vulture was staying in tonight, but he was supposed to leave tomorrow morning. Would Bannon attack tonight?

  Karl’s palms became sweaty. He hated waiting and he hated the complexity of the plan. Too many things could go wrong. He grimaced. That’s why I have the best cleanup team around, and that’s why Parker is on call.

  Karl scanned the tree line with the binoculars.

  In the dense maze of growth, Bannon was studying Justice Blake.

  -20-

  At 2:32 AM, Bannon started for the house. He moved quietly through the undergrowth, having scouted the area earlier. A half-moon crawled across the night sky. Crickets chirped noisily, except when owls or bats winged overhead.

  The Justice had a single bodyguard and a camera surveillance system to thwart him. Bannon wore camouflage gear, had a knife, a silenced gun and plenty of duct tape.

  He only had a single qualm and it concerned the lawn mowing. Justice Blake liked to mow his own yard. It didn’t fit with the image of a venal judge accepting bribes. Now Bannon…if he owned a home, he would also mow his own lawn. He would keep flowers and trees, carefully pruning everything. As Bannon moved like a shadow through the forest, he kept thinking about a time he sat on a Zero-Turn Mower. It was part of him and yet seemed distant like an old dream.

  When did I ever mow lawns?

  Bannon halted, trying to remember. In the moonlight, he examined his wedding ring. After executing the Justice, he would visit his wife’s grave. Yet…he didn’t know where she lay.

  That was odd, wasn’t it? Yes, it was odd. He should know where his wife—

  Don’t worry about that now. Focus. Get it done.

  Bannon moved to the edge of the trees. Before him, the two-story house loomed in the soft glow of several lawn lights. A blue garage stood on the other side of the house.

  He was here to kill a United States Supreme Court Justice. Bannon sneered. He didn’t care about Blake’s rank. Yeah, the nine justices had rank and power. In 2000, in Bush v. Gore, the nine robed men and women had decided 5-4 who would rule the United States. The court said that the Florida Supreme Court’s method of recounting ballots was a violation of the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment. From the Mount Olympus of the Supreme Courtroom, the nine had handed down the binding decision.

  Bannon shook his head. How did he know all these court cases? He suspected Parker had put the knowledge there, and that made him wonder why.

  Bannon waited crouching in the shadows of a miniature tree until he saw movement by the house. The bodyguard ambled around a corner. A slight glow on the man’s face showed that he stared at a cell phone or some similar device. That was foolish, as it would rob him of night vision. The guard wore a jacket. Was he patrolling, or would he go back in?

  It didn’t matter. The man was out here and it gave Bannon an opportunity. If he’d had a scope and rifle he’d have taken the man out on the spot. Now Bannon used bushes, trees and the lay of the land to creep closer toward the house. He kept the bodyguard in sight at all times.

  ***

  “I have Bannon on visual,” Susan said, “on camera five.”

  Karl snorted and he sat up from where he’d dozed on a chair in the surveillance room. He tightened his tie as he stood, and he grabbed his suit jacket, putting it on as he hurried to her. Max or one of the members of his team had hacked into the Justice’s security system. That did two things: it sent the images here and it made sure the Justice’s alarms remained silent.

  A computer screen now showed Bannon crawling across a yard. They used enhanced imaging to see this, something the Justice wouldn’t have.

  “Camera five?” Karl asked.

  “It’s on the south side,” Susan said. “I’m giving you a close-up.”

  Karl put a hand on her shoulder and leaned closer to the screen, to Bannon crawling across the yard. “Can you get me an image of his face?”

  “Not yet.”

  “He’s moving toward the house. He’s going in.”

  “It certainly looks like it,” Susan said.

  “Alert Max and tell Scorpion he’s going to get his chance. But neither of them is to move until I give the word.”

  Nodding, Susan switched on her throat microphone as she spoke softly.

  Karl released her shoulder. It was happening. They were really doing it. He couldn’t believe it.

  ***

  Bannon waited around the corner as the bodyguard spoke to his girlfriend.

  The bodyguard was big, like all of his kind. He wore a dark jacket and he’d zipped it up almost to the throat. That was a mistake. Bannon had barely made out the bulge that showed the gun in its shoulder harness. It would take the man time to unzip his coat and grab the gun. The guard had short hair, a thick neck and had moved before like a man who owned the Earth, a former college football tackle, maybe in his late thirties.

  “Good-bye, darling,” the bodyguard said. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” As he said that, his voice sounded farther away, maybe because he turned elsewhere.

  Bannon peered around the corner. That’s exactly what happened. The man stared at his cell phone and then put it in his jacket pocket. Bannon moved, coming around the corner. He had a sap in his hand, a small leather bulge filled with sand.

  “What the hell?” the bodyguard said. He must have sensed something wrong. He began to turn.

  Bannon struck hard against the left temple. The man’s eyelids fluttered and he collapsed. Bannon caught him, gently laying him down. Working fast, having plastic ties and a gag, he secured the bodyguard in moments.

  ***

  Karl whistled in admiration as he watched split-screens, seeing the action from cameras three and five.

  “He’s like greased death,” Karl said.

  “I can’t believe it’s the same man I’ve been watching at Celebrate Recovery,” Susan said.

  “He isn’t the same man. They just happen to share the same body. This is the killer.”

  Susan glanced sidelong at Karl before she went back to monitoring the situation.

  “This is perfect,” Karl gloated, “simply priceless. With copy from the Justice’s security system—” He laughed softly. “This is a piece of tactical genius.”

  ***

  Bannon scanned back and forth. He listened for sounds that would tell him someone in the house had heard this.

  Thinking of the Justice, Bannon was up and moving. He put away the sap and took out his SIG.

  ***

  “Freeze that!” Karl said.

  Susan touched a key and an image leaped from the split-screen and froze, showing a still of Bannon’s features.

  “Look at his face,” Karl said, almost in awe.

  “I don’t think I want to,” Susan said.

  “What’s wrong? This is a perfect shot, giving us his identity.”

  “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just...I’ve never seen someone so cold and focused.”

  “It’s perfect,” Karl said. “We’re achieving perfection this night.”

  ***

  Bannon decided that the bodyguard had done him a favor. The man had come outside, and to exit this type of security system one had to first disable the door and shut off that zone. Bannon knew he could head inside this way. He proceeded to do so, boldly stepping through the door and entering the house. It was dark, with carpets and hulking furniture.

  ***

  “Seems like a foolish security system that doesn’t monitor the inside,” Karl said.

  “The Justice is big on personal liberty. Maybe having cameras ins
ide the house feels too much like Big Brother watching.”

  “Whatever. In any case, now we wait. We need shots of Bannon leaving the premises. So keep alert. We don’t know when that’s going to happen.”

  Susan nodded, her fingers hovering over the keypad.

  -21-

  Bannon proceeded from room to room on the first floor and found that it was empty. He went slowly up the stairs. The third and eleventh step creaked, but no one appeared the wiser.

  First, take care of the daughter and her husband. Then you’ll be free to take your time with Blake.

  Bannon brushed a hand across his brow and he found that his skin was hot and sweaty. He seemed feverish and he swallowed in a dry throat. How could he know his beliefs about Blake were true? The tattoos and the encrusted steel box showed him he’d been free before and recaptured. Had they given him more or different memories? Who was he really? They told him he had been in prison, but was it the truth?

  With a click, a light appeared under a bedroom door. “I’m thirsty, honey,” a woman said behind the door. “I’ll be right back.”

  It must be the daughter, as she had sounded young. She must be speaking to her husband.

  The bedroom door opened, and from his location at the head of the stairs, Bannon bounded like a jungle beast. He used his sap and struck the daughter, gauging the blow carefully. She crashed backward, thumping onto a wooden floor.

  “Janice!” a man shouted.

  Bannon stepped over the trim body on the floor and moved toward the double bed. The husband sat up and Bannon watched him suck down air for another bellow. Bannon used the sap again with precision. Somewhere he had been taught how hard to hit someone to knock them senseless without killing them. The husband went down.

  Justice Blake shouted a question from his bedroom—at least Bannon assumed it was from the other bedroom. It meant he had no time to duct-tape these two, but would have to trust they’d stay unconscious long enough. He strode out of the bedroom and he hurried to the other door as the old man shouted again.

  A second later, a light appeared under the door. There was the sound of a shell being chambered into a shotgun.