by Edwin Dasso
Jack frowned, a sinking and too-common feeling of dread washing over him. “Where?”
“Do you know Alexandria very well?”
“No.”
“Well, there’s a little park, Windmill Hill Park, there—down by the waterfront.”
“Never heard of it.”
“Well, Google it then, dammit! I’ll be waiting by a little footbridge by the volleyball court. I’ll wear a bright green scarf around my neck.”
“When?”
“Six p.m. Day after tomorrow.”
“I’ll see if I can get a flight. No promises.”
“Suit yourself.”
“One other thing, Horton.”
“What’s that, Dr. Bass?”
“This better not be a setup. That would really piss me off.”
“You really are a suspicious type, aren’t you?”
“Only when I’m dealing with schmucks. Last time Schanlon asked to meet me in person, I almost got killed, so, yeah, I’m suspicious. Until you prove otherwise to me, I consider you in cahoots with him on this whole scheme.”
“I understand…I don’t blame you.”
“I don’t give a shit if you understand or not!” Jack yelled then took a deep breath and calmed himself. Though he had taken the supracentyl antidote back on Senator Cinch’s plane and was being treated by an addictionologist, he still found himself to be easily irritated. “I’ll meet you—if you’re alone and there are no cars or ‘assistants’ in sight.”
“I’m okay with that.”
“And I’ll be packing. Any shit starts, you get the first bullet. Got it?”
“I don’t think there’s any need for radical action like that—”
“Not open for debate. Yes or no on the meet?”
Horton sighed loudly. “Okay…I guess.”
“Maybe I’ll see you in a couple of days then. Good-bye.”
Jack disconnected then immediately called Hank as he ran into his den and flipped on the TV, hurriedly tuning to CNN. Sure enough, a big, red banner scrolled across the screen: “Breaking News—Senator Warren Cinch assassinated!”
“Well, well, well, Mr. Horton, it’s almost as if you knew about it before it hit the news. Why would that be?” Jack mumbled.
“Jack! What’s up!” Hank answered breathlessly.
“Think the girls would be okay by themselves the day after tomorrow?”
There was silence for several seconds. “I’m sure they will—but I’m afraid to ask why you want to know.”
“I’m going to need your help with something.”
“Okay…shoot.”
“Ironic you should put it that way. Let me tell you what I have in mind. You can figure out all of the tactical details.”
Chapter 64
Evening, Two Days Later
Jack stepped next to a man on the small footbridge and stopped.
“Not so close, you idiot—we’re supposed to be doing this discretely,” the man mumbled gruffly.
“I guess I don’t have to ask if you are Horton.”
“Yes, it’s me. Follow me over to that bench by the volleyball court…and make sure you sit on the other end from me!”
Jack glanced at the bench a short distance away then smiled wanly and snorted. “Ah. Got it. Covert and all that shit, eh?” he said sarcastically.
Jack sat at the far end of the bench from Horton, resting an arm on top of the backrest. He quickly surveyed the surrounding area of the small park then turned toward Horton. Jack locked gazes with him then turned his gaze down to his own waist. He pulled his coat open to show the butt of the Colt .45 tucked in his waistband. Horton’s eyes opened wide.
“Remember what I said about any game-playing,” Jack muttered flatly.
Horton nodded. “Y-yes…I remember.” He turned his gaze from the gun to Jack’s eyes. “You’re certainly not like any doctor I’ve ever met, Bass.”
“So I’ve been told before. I don’t really like what certain…scenarios have required of me in my life, but…” Jack pulled his coat closed. “You said you wanted to talk. Start.”
“I can help you shut down Schanlon and his cronies.”
“What cronies?”
Horton rolled his eyes. “Don’t be coy, Dr. Bass; you know exactly who I’m referring to—the people organizing the pharmaceutical narcotics ring you’ve been fighting with.” Horton squinted, his gaze darting nervously into the distance.
“What the hell? Pharmaceutical narcotics ring? Fighting with?” Jack asked incredulously. “Shit, I thought I was just trying to shut Schanlon’s supracentyl study down. What’s all this other stuff you’re talking about?”
Horton sighed loudly. “With all due respect, Bass, you are naïve as hell. Schanlon may be the ring-leader behind this, but it’s much bigger than just him. There are foreign interests. He’s made quite a pitch about the money to be made. He’s got a lot of greedy people interested…even here in D.C.”
Jack guffawed. “You say that as if it’s uncommon to find greedy people in this city.”
“You really are quite cynical, aren’t you?”
“It’s a learned behavior—learned from dealing with people like Schanlon.” Jack arched an eyebrow as he scrutinized Horton. “Anyway, tell me again why you’re offering to help me. I read about you—you come from a big pharma background. Made shitloads of money at those companies…and had a reputation for being pretty ruthless. I’m really quite confused about why you’d be interested in helping me,” Jack said.
Horton shot a quick glance at Jack’s chest then averted his gaze to the surrounding park. “All true…but this is different. Carvin’s gone too far this time. And as head of the VA, I’ve become more directly aware of the results.” He again glanced fleetingly at Jack’s chest. “The bad results.”
Jack huffed. “Bad results? You mean all the people dying?”
Horton nodded slowly. “Yes…them.”
Jack glanced down at his chest then looked up at Horton. “You keep looking at my chest, Mr. Horton—do I have something on my coat?”
“No, no…just thinking.”
Jack tapped a finger on his chest. “You can stop looking for a red dot—there won’t be one.”
Horton’s gaze shot to Jack.
“So, I have nothing to worry about,” Jack continued.
Jack pointed at Horton’s chest. “You, however, should be very worried.”
Horton turned his eyes down to his chest. “Shit!” He began sliding rapidly back-and-forth across the bench, but the small point of light stayed on his chest. Jack clapped him on the shoulder and smiled wryly.
“You can relax. He won’t shoot unless I give him a signal…or he thinks I’m in imminent danger.”
Horton recoiled, his mouth hanging open as he looked wide-eyed at Jack.
“Just chill! Let’s continue our conversation. This time, however, I’ll be leading the discussion. And I wouldn’t try running away…my friend is very good.”
Horton’s gaze repeatedly darted down to Jack’s chest then off into distance.
“Oh. You must be wondering what happened to your friend…and why I don’t have a big hole in my chest.” Jack pulled his cellphone from his pocket and opened a text with an attached picture. “Since you trolls love to send me pictures and videos of what you’ve done, I’m going to share back.” Jack held the phone out to Horton. “Go ahead—take a look.”
Horton warily reached out and took the phone, his eyes closing as he gazed at the picture of a man bound with zip ties and lying on a floor next to a sniper rifle. He groaned and handed the phone back to Jack.
“As you can see, my friend is better than your friend. He found your guy in the attic of that empty townhome over there.” Jack pointed across the park. “Now you know why I’ve become, as you said, so cynical.”
Horton nodded.
Jack replaced the phone in his pocket then glared at Horton. “Are there any of you dirtbags involved in this who aren’t scum of the Earth?”<
br />
Horton hung his head but looked up and glanced fleetingly at Jack then shrugged.
“Yeah…I didn’t think so.” He jabbed Horton in the shoulder with a finger. “Now, I’m going to talk, and you’re going to listen.”
A half-hour later, Jack folded up the small piece of paper with a list of names on it and replaced it into his jacket pocket.
“So, now you’ve seen your name on the list I got from Cinch. I already knew you were involved…and I figured this whole meet was just another setup.”
Horton nodded.
“But I figured there had to be more—that Cinch wasn’t going to give me all of the names.” Jack shrugged quickly. “He seemed afraid when I pushed him…asked if there were more.” Jack grunted. “Considering what happened to him a few days ago, I understand why. But, thanks to you, I’m pretty sure I’ve got a complete list now,” he said sarcastically.
Horton nodded sullenly and looked down at his chest again, where the red dot still shown dimly. “What happens to me now?”
“Not up to me.” He pulled his phone from his pocket. “I’ve recorded everything you’ve told me and will turn the information over to the authorities along with everything else I’ve gathered…when the time is right. I’d say I’m compiling a pretty good pile of evidence…enough to get the authorities thinking about opening an investigation.”
Jack stood and started to walk away.
“By the way, we’re going to send the cops an anonymous tip about where they can find your sniper buddy. He should have an interesting time explaining to them what he was doing.” He stopped and turned back to Horton. “I wish I could say it’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Horton—but it’d be a lie. And my momma taught me not to lie. I think you and your cronies are a blight on the world—”
Jack felt the pressure wave of the supersonic round as it whizzed past his ear a millisecond before he saw Horton’s head explode in a pink mist. Jack was pelted by bits of skull as he dove to the ground. He scrabbled under the park bench, unsure where the round had come from. Horton’s body pitched forward to the ground in front of the bench, blocking Jack’s view in that direction. Jack heard the slap of a bullet as it hit Horton’s body, shoving it closer to Jack. Jack ducked lower and fumbled in his pocket for his phone as his gaze darted over the surrounding buildings. He hit Hank’s phone number.
“Hank! Can you see what’s happening?”
Another bullet tore through a wooden slat on the back of the bench, sending splinters exploding onto Jack’s head. Jack ducked so low his head hit the ground.
“I see you and Horton on the ground—what the hell’s up?”
“Somebody took out Horton! Maybe it was meant for me, though, because they are still taking potshots at me! We never thought about them having a backup. Can you find this guy—get him off me?”
“Stay down! Don’t even raise your head an inch to look around. I’m on it.” Hank disconnected.
Jack hugged the ground for a couple of minutes, wondering if the next round was going to be the one that ended his life. A fleeting memory of feeling a sledgehammer blow to his chest as he kneeled over Hank back at the veteran slave camp flew through his mind. That was the gunshot that had left him clinically dead. Another bullet slammed into the earth nearby, spraying up dirt and gravel. His heart pounded against the ground. He didn’t think he’d be lucky enough to survive something like that again.
“I really gotta find a safer career—this doctor stuff is gonna get me killed yet,” he grumbled. He pressed his head against the grass under the bench. A few seconds later, breaking glass sounded in the distance. Jack waited several more moments, but no further rounds struck anywhere near him. His phone rang, and he jumped.
“You all right?” Hank asked hurriedly.
“Yeah…other than some messy shorts. Did you find them?”
“I spotted him in a building on the far side of the park. I put a round through the window he was firing through. I doubt I hit him, but at least I scared him off.”
“Can I get up?”
“Yeah. I think you should be safe…but you need to get the hell outta there now! I’ll pick you up at the exfiltration spot.”
Jack jumped up and sprinted out of the park, sneaking a quick look over his shoulder at Horton’s body crumpled on the ground by the bench.
“That conniving fuck, Schanlon! He just can’t be trusted,” he growled as he ran. “I’ve given him his last chance.”
Chapter 65
Next Day
Jack picked at the label on his soda as he looked between Wes and Hank, who were sitting around the table with him.
“I’m sorry I got you guys sucked into this,” he mumbled. “Hell, I’m sorry I ever got myself involved.” He sighed loudly. “Why can’t I ever just let a sleeping dog lie?”
Hank put a hand on Jack’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “Because you’re Jack Bass…and it wasn’t a sleeping dog. It was another pack of wild dogs, preying on the innocent.” He gave Jack’s shoulder a soft nudge. “So, cut yourself some slack.”
Jack smiled feebly at Hank. “Thanks, Hank, but I really underestimated this one. I had no idea how wide this net was cast.”
“What do you mean?” Wes asked.
“I mean, I figured I’d bring my concerns about the supracentyl study to the attention of elected and appointed officials who are charged with protecting the citizens of this country. Then they’d do the right thing—not be the fucking ringleaders of the whole scheme!” He locked eyes with Hank and Wes respectively. “You guys think we should just back off on this one?”
“I’m not sure,” Wes replied despondently. “Based on my discussions with old buddies at the DEA and FBI, I’m afraid their hands are being tied by this administration. I’m not sure they’ll be able to help.” He growled softly. “This is exactly why the White House is supposed to keep their nose out of federal law enforcement—it can’t be politicized, or we degenerate into anarchy.”
“So, we just throw our hands up and walk away?” Hank asked incredulously. “That’s not really our history…and I don’t feel like changing now.”
“I think maybe it’s too late to walk away, Hank,” Wes said. “I think we’re probably considered ongoing risks, no matter what, at this point. And these people are obviously ruthless.”
“Well, then, what do we do? We’re in danger even if we do nothing—so I vote for doing something. Control our own destiny!”
“Well, as you’ve heard me say before, ‘when in doubt, go on the offensive’,” Jack mumbled half-heartedly. “Besides, I don’t want Amanda, Sara and Sasha to have to stay at that isolated location the rest of their lives in order to be safe.”
Hank smiled and sat up in his chair, twisting toward Jack. “What’ve you got in mind?”
Jack sighed and glanced at Hank before turning his eyes down to the tabletop. “I wish I knew, Hank. I wish I knew,” he said forlornly. “We just can’t make the mistake again of underestimating these clowns. That’ll get us all dead.”
Chapter 66
One Week Later
Hank and Jack were afraid of being ambushed if they stayed at their house, so they had taken to staying in a different hotel every night. They were both in a semi-slumber, staring absently at the late-night news on the flat screen TV. Hank suddenly bolted upright in his chair, reaching over to snatch the TV remote off the top of a nightstand.
“Jack! Look who’s on the news!” he said as he turned up the volume.
Jack blinked a few times and raised his head from the pillow. When his gaze fell on the TV, his eyes flew wide open, and he hurriedly slid upright, propping his back against the headboard of the bed.
“What the hell?” Jack muttered.
The news was showing a video clip of Schanlon, a congressman, and a White House Cabinet member getting out of a limo and walking into a building in Russia-annexed Crimea. The caption under the video read, U.S. Business Leaders Visit Possible Pharmaceutical Factory Site
in Crimea. The news anchor stated that the group was planning on being in the country for a couple of weeks for “in-depth discussions.”
Jack snorted. “No doubt looking for ways to churn out more drugs for less money…and with basically no governmental oversight!”
Jack’s phone rang, and he glanced at it. Wes’s name was displayed on the caller ID. Jack snatched it up.
“Wes, you gotta turn on CNN right now!”
“That’s what I was calling to tell you,” Wes replied quickly. “Can you believe this shit?”
“No. Hold on a minute.” Jack rummaged through his briefcase, which was on the floor near the bed, soon extracting a small, folded piece of paper. He unfolded it, read the names of the U.S. entourage on the TV screen, then he traced his finger down the list of names on the paper. “Both of those guys with Schanlon are on the list,” he stated flatly.
“The list we put together from Cinch and Horton?” Wes asked.
“Yep.”
“Sonofabitch! Is there anybody in D.C. who isn’t in on the scheme?” Wes snarled. “Now Russia’s frickin’ involved!”
The news clip showed a couple of well-dressed, older Russian men follow Schanlon’s party into the building. They were surrounded by a number of young, burly men who looked military. There were no names listed below the images of the Russians.
“Wes, you recognize these Russian guys? If they’re dealing with Schanlon, I’m guessing they might have come under the FBI’s scrutiny at some point in the past.”
“I don’t recognize them…but I will certainly get on the horn to some friends and see if they know who these guys are.”
The news clip ended, and Hank turned off the TV. Jack put Wes’s call on speakerphone.
“Anybody want to guess what they’ll be producing in this new factory?” Jack asked sarcastically.
Wes snorted. “I guess if the heat gets turned up in this country, just go find some Russian mafiya clowns to help you out, eh? Schanlon seems to have connections to crooks all over the world!”
“Seems to be the way of the modern business world,” Hank grumbled.
