by John Grit
“I certainly do understand that. I’m telling you he’s alive.”
Riley’s stare hadn’t warmed a bit. “I have your word on that?”
“You do indeed. Trey Kraust is alive as far as I know.”
Riley blew a lung full of air from his chest, as if relieved. “Thank God. Now, do you have some kind of a guess why he decided to disappear?”
“Not a clue.”
Riley calmly walked around his desk and sat on its front edge. The expression on his face suddenly changed to that of a determined predator on the hunt. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the revolver. Pointing it at Dulling’s chest, he hissed, “I don’t believe you. Now show me that ceramic knife you always carry in your belt.”
Dulling’s eyes rounded. “You don’t think I would harm you? Without you I’m done. And without my support and silence, so are you. How could I escape? We’re in the White House, for God’s sake!”
“The knife.” Riley punctuated his words by cocking the hammer back.
“Don’t you see? You’re my ticket. I have no reason to harm you.” Dulling frantically felt his belt. A sudden realization came over him. “I don’t have it with me. This morning I decided to wear a different belt. You can put that away.”
Riley hesitated only a second. Once cornered, he could be as vicious as any animal, and now he considered himself cornered with no way to back out. All of his troubles had begun with Dulling. It was time to end Dulling’s extortion. If not for Dulling, his major problem would be dealing with the scandal of an affair and a lovechild by his mistress, and that would have blown over by now. Oh God, how he wished he had told Dulling to go to hell that day. Mita would still be alive and the scandal might not even have cost him the presidency. The American public had been so tolerant of such things in recent years. Even if his wife left him, he might have had his second term, anyway. Many Congressmen’s political careers had survived worse. One president was even accused of rape. He had started this and it was too late to not follow it through. Snatching up a letter opener on his desk, he tossed it in Dulling’s lap. “Pick it up!”
Incredulous, Dulling said, “So that’s it. You’re not afraid of me; you’ve decided to take me out.” He laughed nervously. “You don’t have the balls. Right here in the Oval Office? You’re joking.”
Riley’s eyes narrowed, revealing pure, murderous hate. “I loved Mita. It wasn’t just a fling. I regret letting you talk me into… Every day, a thousand times a day, I wish I could go back to that moment and tell you to go to hell and to pack your shit, because you’re fired!”
“Poor thing. So you’ve had to live with the guilt of doing what was needed to succeed in life. Join the club, prick. Suck it up, and we’ll pretend the last few minutes didn’t happen.”
Riley seemed to not hear him. “You’ve had me by the short hairs since. I might as well have lost the election anyway.” He looked at Dulling directly for the first time in over half a minute. “What do you think you’re going to do with all that money you’ve squeezed from the filth you do business with? What’s the point of wealth if you have to live in a world like the one you’ve built around you?”
Dulling scowled. “Why, you gutless hypocrite. You could have told me no. Don’t put all that fake guilt on me. I didn’t build this world; I just live in it and deal with weak assholes like you.”
Riley nodded almost imperceptivity. “Yes, it was my weakness, my lust for another term. You said we had all of these resources, an army of trained killers, so why not make use of them.” He seemed close to puking. “And I fell for that bullshit. God damn us both! How dare we aim the full power of the U.S. Government at a twenty-year-old girl! Who the hell did we think we were? We had no right to abuse our positions and to use those who serve the American people at the risk of their lives for our own selfish purposes.” Spittle flew from his mouth. “So, yes, I’m guilty as charged, and may very well burn in hell for it. But right now, it’s your turn to pay. My time comes every second of every day. You see, I’m not quite the psychopath you are: I actually feel.”
Dulling laughed. “Your weakness? More like your lust for a young piece of ass. You with a twenty-year-old. A forty-seven-year-old with a receding hairline. Why didn’t you just screw your own daughter? She’s older.”
Riley’s face turned white. “You’re going to be dead for a long time. Is that the best you can do?” He aimed for Dulling’s heart. “I’m giving you a chance to fight back, James. Take it. Pick up the letter opener and we’ll finish this right now, one way or the other. I’m giving you more of a chance than you gave Mita. More than I gave her.” A tear rolled down his face from his left eye. “She was just a beautiful young girl who had no idea what kind of sewage pit she was swimming in when she met me. Now pick up the letter opener!”
Panic-stricken, Dulling shook his head. “No! You’ll kill me.”
Riley spit his words through his teeth. “I’m going to kill you anyway. You talked me into allowing Mita’s murder, and you’ve had me on a string since. Whatever happens to me, your part of it ends now.” He motioned with the revolver. “Pick it up.” He moved closer in an attempt to bait Dulling into fighting back.
It worked.
Dulling snatched up the letter opener and lunged. He managed to drive the blade into Riley’s chest before the revolver spoke six times. Dulling slid off Riley and to the carpeted floor, his face the picture of shocked surprise. To Riley, it seemed he had realized with his last thought that he had been tricked. Good! You son of a bitch! You played me, and now I have my revenge for all the hell you’ve wreaked.
The pain was intense, but Riley barely paid it heed. His receptionist’s screams from outside sounded miles away. He dropped the revolver and staggered toward the door just as a Secret Service agent burst in, looking over the sights of his pistol. He instantly ascertained the situation and spoke into a mike on his lapel. “The president has been stabbed! Get a medical team to the Oval Office now!”
Riley sat on the floor and lay on his back, the letter opener still half-buried in his upper chest, on the left side, far from any vital organs. He almost smiled as he passed out.
~~~
Raylan emerged from a small town general store with a newspaper under his arm and a bag of groceries in each hand. He shoved a bag in Carla’s lap. “You will not believe it! Jesus Christ!” He handed her the paper and carried the other bag with him to the driver’s side. Getting behind the wheel, he looked over at Carla. “Can you believe that?”
Her eyes were glued to the paper, as she read on in amazement. “Riley stabbed by Dulling and Dulling shot by Riley in the Oval Office? This whole crazy thing just gets curiouser and curiouser. It’s a freaking madhouse in DC.”
Raylan had the van heading down the road. Best to not linger where someone might recognize them from a picture in the papers. It had been a while since such photos were printed, in the local papers at least. Their names had not even been mentioned by reporters in weeks. They both knew, though, that behind the scenes an army of people were hunting them.
Carla continued to read. “It seems there might be a house cleaning at the company. Riley’s even talking about appointing an honest man to replace Dulling.”
“An honest man? Who might that be?”
“When I find one, I’ll let you know,” she quipped. “Some retired general. Army. Name is Carl Perez. A three-star.”
“Never heard of him. So I’m not honest?”
“You’re like any other man, only more so.”
“That bad?”
“You’re more of the good, less of the bad.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
She folded the paper up and laid it on her lap. “They say the prez is going to live. Dulling wasn’t so lucky.”
“Yeah, I read that much.”
She struggled to hold back laughter. “It’s the weirdest thing to learn the president has killed an asshole I’ve wanted to kill for years.”
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Raylan smiled broadly. “Aw, don’t be like that. He was our boss.”
They both had a fit, laughing the next half mile.
Chapter 12
Just outside of Washington, DC.
Trey Kraust, his wife, and Linder sat on a couch in the living room of a safe house provided by members of the Special Forces Association and watched the national news on TV. It had been hour after hour of reporting on the president’s condition and speculation on why the CIA Director would try to kill him. All of the scandals were miraculously transferred onto Dulling and away from the president, who was being sold as a hero. Only one accusation remained, as yet to be proven, that reporters refused to distance Riley from: his involvement in the murder of his mistress and unborn lovechild. Did he give Dulling his nod? Or did Dulling act on his own? If Dulling acted on his own, why would he be so concerned with saving Riley’s bid for a second term? Republican and Tea Party Congressmen were interviewed and insisted Riley could not possibly have been totally in the dark and not know of Dulling’s use of the CIA as a murder for hire organization. Either Riley was totally incompetent to the point of dereliction of his duties as president, or he was as guilty as Dulling. The chance there was any kind of a middle ground was slim. Even left-wing reporters and pundits were forced to admit Riley had many questions to answer before he was out of the impeachment woods. Everyone from right to left agreed, though, it was wonderful news that Riley’s wound was not life-threatening and he would be back in the White House soon.
Trey hung on every word. “I don’t believe it! Riley is a master politician. This stunt just may get him off. All he has to do is deny he gave Dulling the go-ahead to kill his mistress and there’s no proof he ever did.” His worried eyes turned to his wife, Abigail, who sat next to him, her hand in his. “Except maybe me. The thing is, Riley had a little too much to drink one night at the White House and confided in me that Mita’s murder was eating at him. We all knew about the affair, all the Secret Service people knew and most of the White House staff. Probably even his wife knew. There was, of course, suspicion when the woman was killed and the autopsy report said she was pregnant, but that was kept down to a whisper. He said he blamed himself for not firing Dulling. I asked him what Dulling had to do with it and he broke down and said something about how he could have stopped Dulling but didn’t and Mita’s death was his fault. Several times since then, I’ve come out and accused Dulling of having the woman killed, and both Riley and Dulling acted as if it were true. I mean neither one of them denied it. Dulling did warn me to keep my mouth shut. I guess Riley assumed he had said more than he had that night when he was drunk and didn’t know I was half guessing.”
Linder sat on the other end of the couch. “That wasn’t very smart. No wonder Dulling wanted you dead. The president too.”
Abigail glared at her husband. “He’s right. That was just stupid. You don’t play with these people. They have the power to ruin your life. Look at us now. Hiding like we were the criminals, and now our children are in danger.”
“I’m sorry,” Trey said. “But I wasn’t playing with them. The fact is I was sick of what I was seeing, the corruption was rampant. The thought that they had a woman and unborn baby murdered just to save Riley’s second term was more than I could tolerate.”
Trey and Abigail exchanged unspoken words, holding each other.
Linder waited ten seconds and cleared his throat. “Good thing you disappeared when you did. The shit has hit the fan in the White House. Someone was desperate, either Riley or Dulling, or both. Something sure as hell brought the Oval Office stabbing and shooting incident on.”
Trey looked inward as he thought. “The president must think Dulling had me killed and my body disposed of. Maybe he summoned Dulling to the White House to fire him, and Dulling went nuts.”
“Well, he damn sure tried to have you killed,” Abigail said.
“But he didn’t succeed,” Trey said, trying to reassure her. “The thing I’m getting at is Riley has been warning Dulling to keep a low profile for months. Other than hunting down those two spooks, he was supposed to play it by the book until things blew over. When I disappeared, Riley must have thought he had me killed and the reporters would get wind of it sooner or later and add to his troubles.” He turned in the seat to face the others more squarely. “Dulling had held the murder of Riley’s mistress over his head since it happened. Hell, Dulling has been the real president for a long time.”
“Guess he finally got enough of being jerked around,” Linder commented.
Trey nodded. “That’s what I think happened. I doubt Dulling attacked Riley in the Oval Office. He was nuts but not stupid. It was staged. Riley probably stabbed himself. Notice it wasn’t near any vital organs.”
“Paper says Dulling’s fingerprints were all over the letter opener.” Linder stood. “I better take a look around. Dulling’s orders to kill you will still stand until his number two or replacement says otherwise.”
Trey glanced at his wife to check her reaction to Linder’s words. “But Riley will probably straighten up now that Dulling’s not calling the shots. Riley wasn’t involved so much in Dulling’s dealings with international underworld syndicates. His one main sin was his mistress.”
“You may be right,” Linder said. “Riley will lay low for now, just to wait out the hearings and reporters’ investigations, if for no other reason. But Riley is crooked.”
Trey agreed. “As crooked as a snake in heat.”
~~~
The distant whining buzz of chainsaws and poorly maintained heavy tree-harvesting tractors woke Raylan at dawn. His Glock lay next to him as he waited until his mind worked out the sounds and determined there was no danger. Sitting up and yawning, he looked at Carla and saw that she was awake too. “They’re getting closer, much closer than they were yesterday. We need to move on, find another campsite.”
She reached her arms over her head and stretched. “Yeah. Might as well leave now and eat breakfast later.”
“My thoughts too,” Raylan said.
They got dressed and packed a few things in boxes in preparation to get off the mountain and find one that wasn’t so crowded. They also needed to find a warm house or cabin to survive the cold Idaho winter in. Certainly, the van wasn’t going to do the job for them. In less than ten minutes, Raylan had them heading down a rugged logging road.
Carla enjoyed the beautiful mountain scenery, looking out her window, more relaxed than she had been in weeks. “Those trout you caught yesterday were the best fish I’ve ever had.”
“Glad you enjoyed them.” Raylan slowed to traverse a narrow section of trail on the edge of a drop-off. After he had them on safer terrain, he said, “I added several thousand words to my next release to reporters.”
She froze for a second. “They’ll trace it back to the post office you mail it from. The Postal Service has equipment for that.”
“I know.”
“So you think it’s time to move on?”
“It will be once we send the next packet to reporters.” Raylan’s eyes flashed to her. “We can hold off on mailing it until we’re ready to hit the road again.”
She said, “Okay,” and left it at that.
Raylan stopped in the logging trail and trained his full attention on her. “You like it here, huh? So do I, but the winters here are brutal.”
She grew solemn and their eyes locked. “It’s time to move on. I figure we might as well hide in a warm place this winter as hide here and freeze.” Rubbing her forehead while she spoke, she added, “These last few weeks have been so relaxing, I nearly forgot we’re being hunted by the U.S. Government and don’t have long to live.”
Raylan reached for her hand. “A defeatist attitude’s not healthy, you know. Besides, we’ve had other governments after us many times.”
“I guess I wish this vacation, honeymoon, or whatever we’ve enjoyed here would last forever. Unfortunately, that’s not to be.”
Raylan’s
whimsical voice added to the sadness in his eyes. “Only this mountain and the memories of us together here will last forever.”
Surprised, she squeezed his hand. “That sounds almost poetical or something. Maybe the mountain spirits of a long-dead Indian tribe have inspired you.”
He snorted, and drove on.
She moved closer to his end of the seat. “Sorry. Sometimes you surprise me, and I don’t know what to say. Like the other night when you said what you said.”
He gripped the wheel tighter than necessary and kept his eyes on the road. “What I don’t understand is why you keep complaining how I never opened up to you, but when I do just a little, you come back with a sharp jab.”
She put her hand over her mouth for a second and blinked tears. “Because I’m afraid we’re going to see each other die, yet I want to be as close to you as possible in the time we have left. It’s crazy, but I’m afraid of the very thing I want most. I’m sorry. I will try not to do that again.”
Raylan noticed the trail had been torn up by heavy equipment and slowed so he could avoid deep ruts, staying to the right of the trail and hoping they made it to the main logging road without getting stuck. “Don’t be upset about it. It just shows we’re human after all, despite all the company’s training and our careers as professional killers. Like you not being able to pull the trigger on that little boy; it just shows you’re human and make mistakes. In the eyes of the company, it was a mistake that caused you to take a bullet and almost die. To a heartless bureaucratic system, being human is a fault. I don’t judge you that way. Just understand that you’re the only one in the world who can hurt me and do it with nothing more than words.”
She hugged his neck and pressed her forehead to his cheek, her face wet. “I’m sorry, sorry for a lot of things.”
He stopped the van. “Take it easy. We’re in the same boat. Both of us are a little screwed up by what we’ve been through.” His body stiffened. “We have company. Looks like loggers.”
