Having already adjusted the scope for the distance, he placed the crosshairs on the woman’s forehead. Feeling the pulse of his heartbeat, it felt almost as if time slowed. Each beat of his heart pushed blood through his body, and every-so-slightly imparting a wobble in his aim. To compensate, he waited. Waiting for the pause between heartbeats, his aim recovered from the almost imperceptible wobble, and when it felt perfect, he squeezed the trigger. The rifle immediately bucked back against his shoulder.
It took less than two seconds for the bullet to travel through the barrel, over the heads of the crowd, and slam into the mayor.
She dropped as if she were a marionette and someone had cut her strings.
He paused for a second, a feeling of disappointment growing within him as the first cries of uncertainty came up from the crowd. It was supposed to have been a much more gruesome shot.
Glancing at the flags, he frowned and replayed the shot in his mind. He missed his mark, that was obvious. It was supposed to have been a forehead shot. But instead… there must have been a slight downdraft. More than likely, he got her just below the jawline, severing her spine.
He began rapidly disassembling his weapon, placing it back into its custom guitar case. Within fifteen seconds, he was done. He blew a kiss to the screaming crowd and raced toward the stairs.
“Looks like I need more practice.”
Connor Sloane’s mouth burned from the mango habanero wings he’d been eating and chuckled as his two former co-workers from the CIA struggled with the heat as well. “I’m glad to see you guys are enjoying it.”
Blonde-haired Christina wiped her mouth and panted for effect. “I can’t believe you talked us into trying these wings from hell. ‘They’re sweet, you’ll like them,’ he says. This is stupid hot. I think you’ve made me hate mango. Why do you eat this?”
With his mouth full, Connor said, “What can I say, I’m not that big into drinking, and this stuff gives me a buzz.”
“I agree with Chris,” John interjected. “I know since you got that transfer, we don’t see much of you anymore, but if this is on the agenda next time, I’ll have to pass.”
It was a Friday night, and this time Connor had picked the spot for their monthly meetup. It was his regular hangout and had everything he ever wanted in a place: wings, the football game, and a happy hour which tended to bring in a fair number of single women. They’d taken a corner table and were mostly left alone to people watch, suffer from the spicy wings, and catch up with each other’s lives.
Connor wiped his mouth with a napkin, his lips tingling from the spice. “How’s Pennington these days? Have things gotten better or is he still the same old pain in the ass?” It took everything he had not to burst out laughing as the two of them turned and gave him identical glares.
With an annoyed expression, Christina swiped a few stray hairs from her cheek and then finger-combed her thick hair so it was away from her face. “Leopards don’t change their spots, so I don’t even need to answer to that question.”
“I’m just glad I got transferred out from under that guy’s thumb.” Connor said, feeling both relieved for himself, and somewhat sorry for them.
“Speaking of that,” John remarked. “You’ve been on the new job, what … three months? How’s the SIO stuff working out for you?”
“Why? You looking to transfer as well?”
“Nah, I just didn’t figure you for the type. You were so gung-ho, and now you’re pushing papers?”
“John!” Christina smacked him on the shoulder and frowned. “You’re being rude.”
“What?” John looked back and forth between Christina and Connor, looking genuinely puzzled. “Tell me I’m wrong.” He hitched his thumb toward Connor and turned to her. “He was always gung-ho, get there early, leave late, kick ass, shred the names. Typical Special Forces type.” He turned to Connor and said, “You know me, I have no filter—”
“I know.” Connor nodded and smiled. “That’s why you and I get along. I always know where I stand with you. John, the whole Support Integration Officer thing is underrated. I’m still in certification mode, but I’ll be doing lots of traveling, which I like, and who knows, maybe working some diplomatic angles. It’s a change of pace.”
Connor felt guilty lying to his friends about his new job. The whole transfer from one area of the CIA to another, a job classification which is known for heavy amounts of travel, it was all part of his cover story. Nobody could know about where he really worked, even his closest friends with top security clearances could never know.
Chris raised her hand and a young waitress glided over to the table. “Karen, can we get the check?”
“You can get whatever you want,” the waitress said with a wink and ran off.
Connor had been watching the back and forth between the two women since they’d arrived and was amused by it all. The waitress was clearly flirting with Christina, and either she was totally oblivious or she was determined to ignore it. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face when he said, “It looks like Karen has taken a real shine to you. You’re what, twenty-five? She’s probably legal, why don’t you go for it?”
Christina waved dismissively and muttered “asshole” under her breath.
When the waitress returned with the check, Christina took it and focused on the bill, ignoring the friendly smile attached to the waitress.
The teenage server nervously twirled a strand of her auburn hair as she hovered near Christina, who was really beginning to look uncomfortable.
Connor turned to the waitress and bluntly said, “Karen, give us some space.”
With an embarrassed expression, the girl dashed away to another table.
John tossed a twenty toward Christina but she immediately slid it back to him. “You paid last time, it’s my turn.”
“Okay,” John said as he got up. “I have to get going, the wife’s nursing and trapped at home. I’m supposed to be out getting diapers and other crap before the stores close or she’ll kill me.”
“Hey, congrats on the kid. I keep forgetting you joined the ranks of the reproducers.” Connor shook hands with the new father.
John shook his head and said, “Well, if I recall, you’re two years older than me, so you’re overdue.”
“I think step one is get a girlfriend, and so far, that hasn’t been in the cards.”
“That’s because you’re a curmudgeon and won’t let me set you up,” Christina cast a frown in his direction.
John leaned over and whispered loud enough so only they could hear. “All I know is with that cutie waitress of ours, don’t bother trying to make any moves on her. She’s too young for you anyway, and…” He grinned at Christina. “I think she’s batting for the other side.”
Connor laughed as his friend walked away, leaving Christina with an ever-deepening frown.
“Just call me when you’re ready,” the waitress waved from another table as she finished taking their order.
Chris leaned across the table and whispered fiercely, “Do me a favor and just go with whatever I do, okay?”
“O-okay,” Connor said with more than a little hesitation in his voice.
With Chris leading the way, they both got up from the table, the cash for the meal was inserted in the check holder the waitress had provided. She snaked her arm around his and hissed, “Just go with it.”
As they walked toward the waitress, Connor pressed his lips together into a thin line to prevent his smile from becoming too obvious. The look of disappointment on Karen’s face was priceless as Christina held onto him, like a girlfriend might, and handed the girl the bill.
“Keep the change,” she said as she led Connor through the restaurant, past the bar, and into the parking lot where she finally let go of him.
He began chuckling and said, “You know, you could have told her you’re straight.”
As they walked to their cars, Chris canted her head at an angle and with a half-smile said, “What makes you think I a
m?”
“Sorry…” Connor felt heat rising up his neck and into his face as he realized he’d never heard her talk about a boyfriend, just girls that he’d assumed were friends. “I guess I have no clue.”
“Well, I am straight, but I reserve the right to change my mind at any—”
“La la la,” he made a show of sticking his fingers in his ears and said, “I don’t need to hear this.”
It was a late summer evening in Virginia, and some of the lights were out in the parking lot, so it took some time for Connor’s eyes to adjust. There was a nice breeze that carried the scent of pine and he could tell they were near water. It was something about the smell and feel of the air. The shore of the Potomac was probably only a mile or so away.
They walked through the crowded parking lot, and since they’d arrived at the restaurant at the same time, they’d parked next to each other. Upon reaching their cars, Christina turned to face him and leaned against the back of her car.
“Something on your mind?”
Chris unzipped her purse, began fumbling for her keys, and said in a low voice, “You know, at work we’re getting a lot of chatter that’s giving me some serious déjà vu from when you were still in our section.” She paused, and held a troubled expression. “I probably shouldn’t be mentioning this.”
With his interest piqued, Connor leaned against the side of his car and crossed his arms. “Well, if you want to share, that’s on you, I’m not asking. But it won’t go any further if you want to get something off your chest.”
She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “There’s are a lot of strange chatter coming out of Nigeria.”
“Didn’t I see on the news something about threats of a civil war going on over there?”
“Nothing about that. Now, realize, it’s only chatter. We haven’t put things together yet, but it has got something do with nukes.”
Connor groaned. “God, I hope not.”
“Me too.” Christina finally grabbed the keys from her purse, gave Connor a quick hug and said, “Thanks for the assist back in the restaurant.”
Before Connor could say anything, she walked to her driver’s side door, opened it and hopped into her car. He tossed her a wave as she backed out of her parking spot, rolled down her passenger’s side window, and said, “Take care of yourself, and I’ll see you next month.”
As he watched her car leave the parking lot, Connor thought about what she’d said. Nukes. It couldn’t be. Not again. Only a handful of months ago he’d been involved in a mission for the place he worked at now that had involved defusing a nuke. It was during that time t he’d been “transferred” from his analyst position to his current cover, but in reality he was working for a place called the Outfit.
With a prickly sensation running up his neck, he was on alert. He’d always trusted his Spidey senses, and he was convinced that tingle was an indicator of something. He panned his gaze across the parking lot and caught a silhouette of a man standing at the entrance to the restaurant.
The man was wearing a black suit, sporting a pair of shades, even though it was dark out, and he was looking across the parking lot, directly at him.
He could tell who he was before the man began walking toward him. It was Thompson, the guy who’d recruited him into the Outfit.
The guy had had his number from the moment they met. If he’d wanted to talk, he could’ve called. There was only one reason he’d have come searching for him tonight.
A threat to national security.
Addendum
Broken Arrow:
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In Patriot, our main character learns of a nuclear device that has gone missing. This situation is often referred to in military jargon as a Broken Arrow. And the incident that the book is based on is surprisingly enough, very real.
Believe it or not, there are at least several dozen nuclear weapons that have been lost and not reclaimed—and that’s a conservative estimate, as most countries are loath to admit their real numbers.
For example, on October 3, 1986, the Russians lost a Yankee I-class submarine in eighteen thousand feet of water at the bottom of the Hatteras Abyssal Plain. It was reported that thirty-four nuclear weapons were lost in the incident.
Patriot is based on an actual Broken Arrow incident. On December 5th, 1965, the aircraft carrier USS Ticonderoga departed the US Naval Base Subic Bay out of the Philippines and on its mission a US Navy Douglas A-4E Skyhawk attack jet was being rolled out for exercises, loaded with a nuclear payload. Somehow, the attack jet fell over the side of the ship with the pilot and the payload never to be seen again.
The jet was carrying a B43 nuclear payload, with an estimated explosive yield of one megaton. It is believed that the plane with all onboard immediately sunk to the ocean floor, 16000 feet below.
About the Author
I am an Army brat, a polyglot, and the first person in my family born in the United States. This heavily influenced my youth by instilling in me a love of reading and a burning curiosity about the world and all of the things within it. As an adult, my love of travel and adventure has driven me to explore many exotic locations, and these places sometimes creep into the stories I write.
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I hope you’ve found this story entertaining.
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- Mike Rothman
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For occasional news on my latest work, join my mailing list at: https://mailinglist.michaelarothman.com/new-reader
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You can find my blog at: www.michaelarothman.com
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And on Twitter: @MichaelARothman
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