by Alex Ander
The President stood and rested his hands on his hips, studying the papers on the table. “All right, but we’re going to need a hell of a lot more than this,” the President wagged a finger at the papers, “if we’re going to go after a man of Hastings’ power.”
“I’ve already begun the process of getting search warrants for The Tucker Group and Senator Hastings.” Jameson gathered the papers and put them in the manila folder.
The President cautioned the FBI Director. “None of this reaches Hastings until we are one hundred and ten percent sure he’s guilty. He’s smart, really smart.”
“I understand, sir.” Jameson stood. “But if Hastings is involved, he’ll know something is up shortly after we raid The Tucker Group.”
“Then we’ll have to be prepared to move fast, Phillip.”
Jameson nodded and left the Oval Office.
Chapter 24: Peephole
7:13 p.m.
Special Agent Cruz peered through the peephole in the front door, watching the truck back away. When it was out of sight, she turned around and leaned against the door. She closed her eyes and let her head fall backward against the wood panel. She tried to reconcile her feelings for Hardy and her duties as a government agent. It had been a long time since she had felt this way for any man. If he continued on his current path, he would be a fugitive from justice, if he weren’t killed first. She entertained the idea of going after him and trying to talk him out of it one more time. Her mind on Hardy, she sighed when the house phone rang. She did not want to talk to anyone right now. Pushing her body away from the door, she shuffled into the kitchen. The phone rang again. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” She picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Cruz, its Jameson. Why haven’t you been answering your cell? I’ve been calling you for hours. Is everything all right?”
She checked her pockets for her mobile, but came up empty. She must have lost it somewhere at Ludlum’s house. She relayed the events to Jameson, and he told her about his meeting with the President.
Chapter 25: The Cabin
Robert Tucker had rented a simple, yet gorgeous, rustic cabin, surrounded by woods and nestled in the Appalachian Mountains, overlooking a beautiful lake. It was a steep ‘A’ frame chalet, built into the side of the hill. Stone columns ran across the back of the cabin, supporting the deck outside the master bedroom on the second level. Wooden stairs led from the deck to the ground. From there, a dirt path wound its way to the water’s edge.
The main level was a large, open space. The kitchen area was against the wall opposite the huge bay window facing the water. Halfway between the bay window and the kitchen area, against the wall, was a stone fireplace, complete with built-in cavities for firewood, kindling and tools. Finishing off the look was a black bearskin rug on the floor. The entire cabin was finished in knotty pine, except for the floor, which was made of a dark-stained oak.
Bare-chested and dressed in a pair of sweat pants, Tucker sat in an Adirondack-style chair on the deck outside the master bedroom. He was in his mid-forties and had a very athletic physique. His dark hair and goatee gave him the look of a younger man. He took a couple of puffs on his cigar and gazed at the lake. The sun had almost set on the other side. The surface of the lake glimmered, as the last few rays from the sun spilled across it. Tucker tipped his glass back and finished off his drink. A sultry voice called to him from the master bedroom.
“Come back inside, Robert,” said the woman. “I’m lonely.”
Tucker smiled and rose from the chair. I know what she’s lonely for. This is going to be an exhausting weekend. As Tucker walked inside the cabin and closed the sliding glass door, he had no idea he was being watched.
Chapter 26: Caged Rat
Down by the lakeshore, hidden among the trees, Hardy decided to wait another twenty minutes after Tucker had closed the sliding glass door. He had been at the cabin for some time and had walked around the entire property. Tucker had two guards posted in front of the cabin and two more in the back. He had not seen anyone else moving around inside, except for Tucker and a woman.
When the sun went down, all available light went with it. A half-moon overhead allowed Hardy to see a few feet ahead of him. He turned on his PVS7 Night Vision Goggles, made by ATN Corporation, and the area in front of him was cast in a green hue. He crept up the path, until he got to the edge of the tree line. He was able to see the entire back yard. He squatted and waited for the guard to his right to start his return trip to the side of the cabin. When he did so, Hardy moved along the tree line and took a position near where the guard would stop when he came back. A few minutes later, the guard came toward Hardy, unaware of Hardy’s presence. The guard did a final sweep of the area and turned to walk away. Hardy sneaked forward a few steps and struck the base of the guard’s skull with the butt of his MP5 rifle. The guard’s body went limp. Hardy caught him and guided his fall to the ground before dragging him into the woods. He secured the man’s hands and feet and stuffed a piece of cloth into his mouth before covering him with tree branches.
Coming back to the edge of the yard, Hardy waited and watched. The guard on the opposite side of the cabin came around the corner. After a few seconds, he turned around and disappeared from sight. Hardy ran in a low squat across the deck attached to the main level of the cabin, stopping at the far corner. Facing the cabin, he cocked his head to see around the corner of the cabin. The guard was making his way back. Hardy wrapped an arm around the man’s neck and choked him, until he went limp in Hardy’s arms. Dragging the unconscious guard out of sight, he laid him near the cabin. He bound the man’s hands and feet with zip ties and stuffed his mouth full of Hardy’s Washington Redskins t-shirt, which he had shredded. Now that the guards were not a factor, he could move to the upper level.
At the top of the stairs, Hardy watched the sliding glass door through which Tucker had disappeared. The way seemed clear. Hardy ascended the last few steps, pressed his body against the building and sidestepped to the edge of the sliding glass door. The room was casting a soft glow from a low wattage light bulb. He removed his NVG’s and stowed them. He did not want to risk a look inside. There was enough moonlight that if anyone was looking in his direction, he would have been spotted. He waited a few moments more. Hearing two somewhat muffled moans coming from the room, he saw his chance to gain access to the room, while the occupants were otherwise engaged.
Hardy pushed the handle on the door and it moved. Tucker had not locked it. Why would he? He thinks he’s alone on the mountain. Hardy readied his MP5 and slipped into the room.
The woman in the bed with Tucker let out a low squeal and pulled the covers around her naked body. Tucker sat against the headboard, taken by surprise.
“What the hell is this? Who are you?” Not getting a reply, Tucker threw back the covers to get out of the bed.
Hardy leapt forward and leveled the rifle at Tucker. “Stay where you are.”
Tucker froze in place, one leg in the bed and the other hanging over the edge.
Hardy’s eyes dropped and he saw more than he wanted to see. He motioned toward the man. “Please feel free to use the blanket.” He picked up the woman’s lacy negligee with the sound suppressor attached to his MP5 and tossed it toward her. The twenty-year-old, if that, scrambled for the robe.
“Your secretary said you were away with family for the weekend.” Hardy looked at the woman, donning the negligee. “Something tells me this isn’t your wife. And, I certainly hope she isn’t your daughter.” He looked at the woman. “You should leave now, miss.”
The woman turned toward Tucker with a look of disgust on her face. “You’re married and you have a kid?” She got to her knees, wound up her right hand and delivered a slap to Tucker’s face that even Hardy felt. “You’re a sick bastard.” She slinked out of the bed and left the room. Tucker was rubbing his cheek, looking at the door the woman had exited, when Hardy pressed the trigger of his rifle and sent a couple rounds into the headboard near Tucker’s right ear. The
man flinched and covered his head.
“Do I have your attention now, Mr. Tucker?”
Tucker asked a question of his own. “What’s this all about?”
Hardy shook his head. “That’s not how this is going to work. I will ask the questions and you will give me the answers. Is that clear?”
Tucker’s eyes shifted to the open door leading to the deck.
“Your men have been neutralized. It’s just you and me.”
Tucker was a caged rat. A man of his power was not accustomed to being in such a compromising position. Hardy could see Tucker’s mind working overtime, trying to come up with a way out of this situation. “Did you bomb that tavern last night and kill my men?”
Now, the wheels in Tucker’s mind were really spinning. His eyes got wide and his mouth opened. “Hardy,” he said. “Sergeant Aaron Hardy. So, that’s what this is all about? Why would I do that? You work for me. Why would I want to kill you or my men?”
“Your men? We work for the United States Marine Corps, not The Tucker Group. Why would you say that we work for you?”
Tucker did not respond. His mind had begun to spin a lie. Hardy was under the impression he was serving his country. Tucker stammered, as he chose his words. “Well…I know your commanding officer…Colonel Ludlum. It was only a figure of speech, I guess. I meant nothing by it.”
“Ludlum is dead.”
Tucker was silent.
“He shot himself…after he told me about your operation. It’s over, Tucker.”
Tucker glared at the man dressed in black.
Hardy fired two more rounds. The bullets penetrated the headboard next to Tucker’s left ear.
He nearly bounded out of the bed before cursing at Hardy. “Ludlum always was a weak link. I should have gotten rid of him a long time ago. But you, Hardy, you’re the real deal. No one else could have figured out what was going on.” Tucker stroked his chin. “I have a job for you. I want you take over for Ludlum. I’ll find you more men. What do you say? I’ll double what I was paying Ludlum.”
Hardy wanted to empty his MP5 into the man’s chest, reload and repeat. He relaxed his trigger finger. “Why? Why did you have all those good men killed?”
“What about my offer?”
Hardy shook his head. “Forget it, Tucker. The FBI is involved. It’s only a matter of time before you fry for what you’ve done.” There was more cursing from Tucker. “Why did you kill my men?”
Tucker shrugged. “Loose ends, I guess. They were loose ends. Those men, and you, were just pawns on a chess board, puppets whose strings were being pulled by—”
Hardy shot back, “Those were American soldiers, serving their country.”
“Don’t give me that. You jarheads are all the same. You’ll murder anyone who stands in opposition to you and then wrap yourself up in the American flag. Besides, I didn’t give the order to have them killed. If it were up to me, they’d still be alive and working for me.” He held up his hand and rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. “You boys made me a…lot…of…money.”
“Who was it, then? Who ordered them to be killed? Was it Hastings?”
Tucker nodded. “He got soft. He was afraid everything we had done would be exposed and he’d go down in flames.”
“You make me sick.” Hardy raised his rifle and centered Tucker’s chest in the weapon’s rear peep sight. The time had come. His right forefinger applied steady pressure to the trigger before stopping in mid stroke. Hardy wanted justice for his men. They deserved it. But, was this the way to administer that justice? Was this the way to honor his men? Hardy questioned his motives. Am I thinking of them or me? Was he trying to alleviate his guilt for the things he had done the past three years? He thought about what Special Agent Cruz had said to him. If he shot Tucker, Hardy would forever be a wanted man. Interrupting his thoughts, Tucker shouted at him.
“Well, get it over with you rotten son of a—”
Chapter 27: Muzzle Flash
Hardy’s peripheral vision caught sight of the muzzle of a pistol above the top step of the staircase leading to the main level. One of Tucker’s men had gone undetected and was coming up the steps. Hardy spun away from the weapon before he saw the muzzle flash. Hitting the floor at the foot of the bed, he felt a burning sensation in his left shoulder. He twisted his body and crawled to the corner of the bed. The guard’s head appeared above the floor. Hardy stuck his rifle between the bottom of the bedframe and the floor. His right forefinger, curled around the rifle’s trigger, twitched three times. Three bullet holes opened on the guard’s head and neck, felling him. The body slid down a step and came to a halt.
Hardy jumped to his feet and swung the rifle toward Tucker, but he was gone. The only other way out was through the sliding glass door. Hardy ran outside and raced down the steps leading to the dirt path, swapping out the magazines of his MP5. Landing on the third step from the bottom, he leapt and was on the run as soon as his boots hit the dirt. He reached for his NVG’s, but his hand came up empty. He was sure he stowed them before entering the cabin. He must have lost them when he dropped to the floor. He activated the Surefire flashlight attached to his rifle. He would have to find Tucker the old-fashioned way.
The burning sensation in Hardy’s shoulder intensified. He swiped his right hand across the area. Rubbing his fingers together, he felt a sticky wetness—blood. He could not feel an entry wound, so the bullet must have cut his skin.
Hardy moved down the path, swinging the rifle from left to right and back again. When he reached the bottom, he lit up the shoreline with the flashlight. Tucker was nowhere to be found. There was no way he had made it this far. Hardy wheeled around and went back the way he had come. Tucker might have gone around to the front of the cabin. Hardy advanced a few feet. Feeling a presence behind him, he stopped. Before he could address the threat with the rifle, a heavy object struck him in the back of the head. Stars danced in his vision, but they were not the ones from the night sky. His legs buckled and he collapsed, falling to his knees before landing face first on a bed of fallen tree needles. The scent of pine filled his nostrils. He never lost consciousness, but a full minute passed before he regained his senses and got to his knees. He heard a voice behind him.
“That’s far enough.” It was Tucker.
Hardy cranked his head around to see the man pointing Hardy’s MP5 at his head. He was at a disadvantage, disarmed and in an execution-style position.
“Stay right where you are. This will be over soon.”
With his back to his adversary, Hardy’s torso was rotated slightly to the left. Tucker could not see Hardy’s right hand. Hardy eased the hand closer to his body and the knife he had on his vest. He could see Tucker aligning the sights of the rifle with Hardy’s face. Hardy wrapped his fingers around the handle of the knife, flexing the muscles in his right arm. Before he could act, bright lights shone on the two of them. The men appeared to be two actors in a play.
“FBI—Drop the weapon! Drop the weapon! Drop it now!” shouted the members of the FBI SWAT team, positioned in front of Hardy, ten meters up the path. In the light beams, Hardy saw Tucker’s eyes. He was not going to drop the rifle. The FBI’s rules of engagement were most likely ‘fire only if fired upon.’ Hardy could not let Tucker start the shooting, especially while he was staring down the muzzle of the MP5.
Hardy ripped the knife from his vest, pivoted to the right and threw the knife at Tucker. As soon as the tip of the blade entered the man’s right pectoral muscle, he fired the rifle, sending rounds into the ground where Hardy had been kneeling.
With Tucker fulfilling his part of the rules of engagement, the SWAT team carried out their part, returning fire and perforating the man’s body with nine-millimeter bullets. He took three steps backward and fell on his back. The rifle in his hands sounded once more. After that, the only noise heard was the pounding of combat boots on the hardened earth. With their rifles trained on Tucker, the SWAT team moved forward, bypassing Hardy. They had ord
ers not to touch him. One operative kicked the rifle away from Tucker, while a second removed the pistol from the waistband of Tucker’s sweat pants. A third SWAT team member rolled the body over and handcuffed him. Even though the man was probably dead, the action was necessary to ensure the safety of the team.
Sitting in the brush and leaning against a tree, Hardy watched the action. His peripheral vision caught sight of a fourth member of the team. This one had a slender frame and moved differently. Before the person had knelt in front of him, Hardy sensed the person was a woman, sensed it was Cruz.
Special Agent Cruz carried a rifle and had the same clothes on from earlier, exchanging her blazer for a bulletproof vest with the letters FBI on it. The beam of her flashlight lit up the blood on his shirt. “Hardy, are you hurt?” Slinging the rifle behind her, she examined the wound.
Hardy glanced at his shoulder. “I’m all right. The bullet only sliced me.” Bringing his attention back to her, he added, “What are you doing here, Cruz? I thought you said you never wanted to see me again.”
Cruz called out to the nearest SWAT member and motioned for him. “No, I said I hoped we never met again.” After taking the SWAT member’s medical pack, she flashed her eyes toward Hardy and grinned. “I never said I didn’t want to see you again.” She dressed the wound, and applied a bandage, while telling him what took place after he had taken her home.
Director Jameson had secured search warrants for both The Tucker Group and Senator Hastings’ office. After the SWAT team had raided The Tucker Group and gathered enough evidence against Hastings, the second SWAT team moved in and arrested Hastings at his home.
“Were you there to take him down?”
Cruz shook her head. “I couldn’t be in two places at once. I had to be here to pull your butt out of the fire.” She smiled and winked at him.
Hardy laughed. It was good to know she had a sense of humor. He had not seen that side of her. He was glad she was there. She had saved his life.
