by James Hunt
“I’d offer you some, but I know you gave the drink up a long time ago.” Runehart set the bottle down and took a sip. “Didn’t like yourself when you drank, Mack?”
Mack craned his neck back to the front door, where the Secret Service agents had left, then back to Runehart. “It’s unusual for a senator to have more than one agent at his disposal.” He looked down to the bloodstains. “And it doesn’t seem they’ve been doing a good job.”
Runehart moved around, more relaxed and animated than when he was in front of the cameras. The twitch at the corner of his mouth and dilated pupils suggested he was excited. The only question was why.
“You have a very tough road ahead of you, Mack.” Runehart leaned up against the corner of the mantel on the fireplace, swirling the cup of liquor. “I could make it easier for you if you wanted me to.” He took a sip.
“I don’t think we share the same definition of tough,” Mack said.
“Mack, Mack, Mack, Mack.” Runehart shook his head and shortened the space between them to less than a foot. It was the first time Mack had ever gotten a good look at the man up close. Sure, the camera zoomed in on him during interviews, but this was different. Those television interviews were calculated, rehearsed. But now, here in his home, alone, Runehart had taken off the mask he was forced to wear nearly every single day of his life.
“You don’t have to do this to yourself,” Runehart said. “You’re a smart man!”
Runehart groped Mack’s shoulder, massaging it to the point of pain, pinching the nerves underneath the heavy pads of fat and muscle. He let go then circled Mack like a shark, occasionally sipping from his drink.
“I’m going to get everything I want,” Runehart said. “Whether you realize that or not has no significance to me, but I’m sure it does to the people you care about.”
“The people I care about are the same reason why you won’t win,” Mack said, his eyes locked on the liquor cased in the heavy crystal vase. If he could get close, he had a chance.
“Do you know the problem I have with all of this, Mack?” Runehart took a step back, blocking the path to the drink station. “It’s that people know it’s nothing more than a show. They absolutely understand that everything they see on television, read in the news, it’s all aimed to get them to think a certain way. And even when they know the truth, even when they understand how fucked up the whole thing is, they ignore it!”
“And you’ve put on quite the show,” Mack said. “Haven’t you, Senator?”
Runehart giggled, the noise echoing into the glass as he finished his drink. “It’s just getting started.” He returned to the chair, slouching lazily, and crossed his legs. “You should have a front-row seat, Mack. From everything I’ve read about you in Mallory’s files, you seem quite the showman yourself. Not everyone can fool the CIA and the rest of the world for as long as you did. The GSF is a testament of your acumen for espionage, to remain behind the curtain when there are so many opportunities to pull it back.” He curled his left hand into a fist and shook it back and forth in the air. “You could have had the world, Mack. It was right there for you to take.” Runehart dropped his hand, his fingers now limp. “But instead you chose a more noble route. A more boring cause.”
“If what you think I do is boring, then you haven’t had much experience with my team,” Mack said.
“Of course.” Another sporting smile. “Your precious Sarah Hill.” He leaned forward, elbows on his legs, and scratched his chest, his nails peeling away some of the dried blood on the shirt, and it crumbled to the floor. “You think she can stop me.” He turned around. “And if it were just me, you would probably be right. He extended his index finger, wagging it in the way a teacher or parent would. “Now, that was something your friend Grimes understood.” He spun around quickly, flashing a toothy grin. “But it’s something I understood even better.”
Runehart set the glass down and spread his arms open wide. “Mack, you have an opportunity here to witness what will be the dawning of a new age. And I’m telling you right now that I want you to be a part of it. Losing you to a jail cell or the hangman’s noose would be a waste of good talent. We can usher in a new era of world order and security. We can be the great Oz behind the curtain, and every citizen of the Emerald City will bow to our will.”
A bit of foam had formed at the corner of Runehart’s mouth, and the wild savagery in his eyes was void of any bits of reason or effort to conceal who he was. In that moment, what Mack saw was a pure form of evil.
“You’re going to lose, Senator.” Mack didn’t turn his gaze away, keeping his eyes locked on Runehart the entire time. “Because the same people I worked with are going to hunt you down. We will always beat people like you.”
Runehart stepped back, shaking his head, disappointed. “I have to say I wanted a different outcome, but your decision is one that I expected.” He reached for the smoking jacket, sliding his arms into the sleeves slowly. “And I have to say I’m impressed you didn’t ask about the shirt.” He closed the jacket, returning to a more reserved look that a senator from Wisconsin represented. He laughed and it was the full spirited chuckle that had surfaced so many reciprocating smiles from his constituents, and it was like their previous chat had never happened. “Let me show you out, Mack.”
The two walked to the door, and the two agents were already standing by, the car door to the sedan open and the engine running. Runehart placed a hand on Mack’s shoulder. “Good luck at the hearing, Mack. You’re going to need it.”
Mack made it two steps out the door before Runehart called out.
“Oh, and Mack.”
Mack turned and Runehart flicked something through the air, which Mack caught in the meaty flesh of his palm.
“Grimes took the smart way out,” Runehart said. “It’s something that you might want to think about. Enjoy the souvenir. I pulled it out myself.”
Mack was quickly stuffed back into the vehicle, and the doors were closed. He kept the piece of metal gripped in his palm the entire ride back to Langley, where the Secret Service members returned him into the custody of the CIA.
By the time Mack arrived back in his cell, which wasn’t much bigger than the holding cells at the GSF, the small piece of metal had grown incredibly hot. He opened his right hand and stared down at the bullet that had been in Runehart’s bowl near the front door.
There wasn’t any doubt that the bullet was the same one Grimes had used to kill himself in the woods of western Virginia not far from here. He’d killed himself before the very agency that he’d worked for, then betrayed, could do it for him.
The fact that Runehart had given Mack the bullet told him two things. One: that Runehart was still afraid of Mack and his agents. Whenever someone resorted to intimidation, it was because they feared retribution. And two: the fact that Runehart had the bullet in his possession meant that Runehart had eyes everywhere. Even in the CIA.
The van was cramped. And it didn’t help that none of them had showered in over a day, and Sarah was still dripping in blood from the Chinese that had paid them a visit at the safe house.
“I look like something out of a zombie apocalypse,” Sarah said, looking down at her pants and shirt. She’d removed the holster from her shoulders, and she glanced over to the Colts in the corner. “How long do you think I’d last?”
Bryce and Grace were busy in the “computer corner” of the van, finishing up the plans for their break-in at Langley to steal Black Box. “I don’t know,” Bryce said, his tone exasperated. “You’d probably last a long time.”
“Grace?” Sarah asked.
She gave a more thoughtful response, taking the time to pause from her work at the laptop, and pressed a still-manicured finger to her lips. “I think it would be harder on you because of your skillset. You would be in a lawless world, and you would lose your sense of humanity after killing tens of thousands of zombies. You wouldn’t look at the living the same anymore. You need human connection, Sarah. And in
a world full of zombies, that’s hard to find.”
“Wow,” Sarah said. “That was deep.” She leaned back, contemplating what Grace had said. “I would have just said three years.”
“All right,” Bryce said, the speakers on his laptop giving a few beeps. “With Mallory’s intel, I think we have a chance.” He swiveled on the small crate he sat on and adjusted the screen on his laptop back to where the three of them could see. “So, it’s not impossible, but—” He stopped, craning his head around to where Sarah’s head was positioned right over his shoulder. He sniffed then recoiled. “Good god, Sarah, you reek.”
“Yeah, well, you don’t smell like roses either.” Though when Sarah to lifted her armpit and took a whiff of what was underneath, she grimaced.
“It’s like something died under there,” Bryce said, breathing through his mouth.
“You died under somewhere,” Sarah said sheepishly as Bryce brought up the schematics to the building.
“That’s enough, you two,” Grace said, her voice having a Mack-like sternness. “Bryce, what do we have?”
“It looks like all of the classified objects marked as above Top Secret are stored in a small warehouse, just south of the main building. From the security detail Mallory provided, there won’t be any window where security is light, but we can sneak you in through the gaps as long as you move quickly.”
Sarah nudged Grace’s arm and bounced her eyebrows up and down a few times. “Nothing like a little quickie in the afternoon, am I right?”
Grace blushed, and Bryce rolled his eyes.
“Anyway,” Bryce said, “I should be able to stir up enough static to throw the guards off, but because Mallory wasn’t able to give us the exact location of Black Box, once you’re inside, finding it will be like looking for a needle in a haystack.”
“You’ll want to look for a manifest,” Grace said. “They’ll have something like that inside. If you can find that, you’ll be in good shape.”
“What about Mack, Becca, and the girls?” Sarah asked, pointing to the screen. “When do we get them out?”
Both Bryce and Grace exchanged a glance. “By the time you get Black Box, the alarms will be triggered, and once that happens, you won’t be able to pull them out.”
“Then why can’t I get them out first?” Sarah asked.
“Because then Black Box will be locked down,” Bryce answered.
“I’m not leaving them in that facility.” Sarah moved to the rear of the van and crossed her arms in defiance. “Find a way to make it happen.”
“Sarah, there isn’t any time!” Bryce nearly flipped the laptop over but restrained himself. “Once Runehart requests that device, he’ll have any and all evidence that could help Mack and clear the GSF’s name! Once it’s gone, we don’t have any leverage!”
“So we just let Mallory and the rest of the CIA keep Mack and my family hostage?” Sarah shook her head. “I’m not leaving them behind, Bryce. My brother is dead because of me, and I will not have the deaths of my niece and nephew on my conscience!” Sarah punched the side of the van, denting the metal.
It was the unknown that put her on edge. Sarah had promised her family that they’d never experience this type of thing again. And now they were sitting locked in some room with people they didn’t know, unsure if they could ever go home again.
“I promised them I would protect them, Bryce,” Sarah said. “I promised.”
“I know you did,” Bryce said. “But they’re better off with Mallory.”
“We are still being hunted by intelligence agencies and their assassins from around the world,” Grace said.
“They’re safe for now, but what happens when Runehart goes public or if Mallory decides to save his own skin?” Sarah reached for the holster with her Colts and slung it back over her shoulders. “They’re better off with us. No matter what you say.” She reached for the door, but Grace grabbed her arm.
“There is another option,” Grace said.
“There is?” Sarah and Bryce asked at the same time.
Grace nodded and then grabbed Bryce’s laptop. “When I was watching you go through the security features, I noticed a maintenance crew scheduled to check Langley’s utilities once a month. This month’s check happens to be today.”
“What about the alarms?” Bryce asked.
“We wouldn’t have to worry about the alarms,” Grace answered.
“Why not?” Sarah asked.
Grace turned to Bryce. “Because while Sarah is at the warehouse, you’d be inside the main building.”
“I’d do what now?” Bryce asked.
“I could run surveillance from the van.” Grace looked down at the laptop. “I’ve watched you do it hundreds of times. You guys hit Langley at the same time, get out, and I’ll drive the getaway van.” She smiled, almost as if the plan would go off without a hitch.
Sarah liked the hutzpah.
“You think you can handle it?” Bryce asked.
“Of course she can,” Sarah answered. “She’s dated your skinny ass for two years. This should be a walk in the park.”
Grace nodded. “I’ll be able to handle it.”
“Well,” Sarah said, cracking her knuckles. “Let’s get this party started.”
7
Bryce took a breath as he sat in the driver’s seat of the parked “maintenance” van that was his ticket into Langley just up the road. He white-knuckled the steering wheel, trying to fight the steel-winged butterflies tearing through his stomach.
“Hey, you’re going to be fine,” Grace said from the back of the van. “You’ve watched Sarah do these types of things for the past eight years. You’ve got this.”
“Yeah,” Sarah said, coming in over the radio. “If you find yourself in a bad spot, just ask yourself, ‘What would Sarah do?’”
“That’s not very comforting.” Bryce closed his eyes, drawing in another breath to help steady his nerves.
“If we’re going to do this,” Grace said. “Then we need to do it now.”
“Right,” Bryce said.
With a shaking hand, Bryce started the van and shifted into drive. Around his neck was a thin piece of fiber optic cord, and when he pressed the button on the front, a digital display appeared around his head and transformed him into an entirely different person and mimicked Bryce’s facial expressions and speech patterns.
It was a device he’d cooked up with R&D last year, but the program only concealed him from the neck up. He wore gloves, a long-sleeve shirt, pants, and boots to hide the rest of his body. And, for this mission, Bryce had transformed himself from GSF agent to Barry Codwell, server maintenance tech for Virginia Hills Utility, which they’d also digitally etched on the side of the van.
Bryce’s, or rather Barry’s, heart rate spiked when they reached the security booth. He eased on the brakes, coming to a stop as the security guard stepped out. “Morning.” Bryce flashed a toothy smile, holding up the ID badge they’d forged. “Here for the monthly check.”
The guard laughed. “Yeah, I know, Barry. How was the wedding?”
The question caught him off guard. Barry and whoever the hell this guy was seemed to have been friends, or at least close acquaintances. Bryce swallowed hard, glad the guard couldn’t see the sweat on his real face. “It was great.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it.” The guard hung his head a little low. “But you know how this place can get. Hey”—he squinted—“where were you going on your honeymoon again?”
“Hawaii.” Bryce spit the answer out quickly, unsure if that was ever Barry’s intended choice.
“It was?” The guard handed the ID back and shook his head. “I bet that was fun.”
Bryce glanced nervously to the rearview mirror. No traffic to force him forward. If this continued, he knew he’d end up blurting something out that his friend would undoubtedly find very un-Barry-like.
“It was great, but listen,” Bryce said. “I need to get in there and finish up quick today.
I’ve been putting in a lot of overtime because of the wedding, and the new wife doesn’t like it when I have to be longer on the job than necessary, so I’ll catch up with you later.”
The guard took a step back and threw his hands up, gesturing to the ring on his own finger. “Say no more, my friend. We’ll grab a beer this weekend.”
“Sounds good.” The gate opened, and Bryce drove through, fighting the urge to vomit over the front of his Virginia Hills Utility uniform.
“Good job, baby,” Grace said.
“Yeah,” Sarah added, “way to not suck, Bryce.”
Once parked, Bryce grabbed what gear he would need to sneak through the building and past the security checkpoints and took one last long breath before stepping out of the vehicle. “I don’t know how you deal with the stress, Sarah. I think I understand you a little bit better now.”
“It’s not an easy job,” Sarah said knowingly. “But, after this, I’ll tell you my post-mission secret to a long and healthy career in the field of espionage work. Here’s a hint...” She lowered her voice to an obnoxiously loud whisper. “It’s whiskey.”
“That explains a lot,” Bryce said. He shut the van door and headed for the front steps of Langley’s entrance, his heart rate jacked so high that he thought he could break into cardiac arrest at any minute. “Grace, remember, if either one of us goes down, you get the hell out of here, understand?”
“Everything is going to be fine,” Grace answered.
“Just tell me you understand the protocol,” Bryce reiterated.
“I understand,” Grace said.
“Me too,” Sarah said. “But I need the two of you to do me a favor. No dirty talk. I’d like to keep down what little breakfast I managed to eat.”
“I think that would be more of a disclaimer for you, Sarah,” Bryce said.
“I’ll keep the penis jokes to a minimum. Which reminds me, what did the Jewish doc—”
