“I wonder if she ever knew who her victim was?” Looking at the name on the dossier, even she can’t help from getting a tinge of emotion. “So cold. So very cold.”
Katrina had discovered she had a talent, and a taste, for murder. Elayna wondered if she herself could drift so far from humanity as to do what Katrina had done.
“Kabul is murky. The home office began to see your potential, and it scared the shit out of them.”
The thought gives her pause. “A threat to Kurtsin himself? That’s it, they controlled you with Sasha, and the alcohol. So that’s why they didn’t kill you. Instead they sent you both here, out of the way, poor thing.”
“What a waste, but I’ll fix that too, you’ll see sweetie.” she smiles.
Both Kate and Elayna looked up to the sky at the same time, drawn by the growing roar of military jets swooping down over the trees. Seeing the formation, Kate knows where they are going. They follow the A-10 Thunderbolts across the sky, low and slow in the missing man formation, honoring a fallen warrior. Both women realize that as soldiers they will never receive such an honor. Their kind never do.
As Kate watches the aircraft pass overhead, once again she gets that feeling that someone is watching her. Oddly enough, this time she doesn’t feel threatened, and it makes her wonder why.
Chapter 7
Woodlawn Cemetery
The service for Sergeant James Washington, 3rd Battalion, 10th Mountain Division of United States Army, draws to the end. It has been a celebration of a man’s life, a tribute to a fallen hero, and a heartbreaking goodbye to a father and son. Reverend Wall stands over Bone’s casket and begins the 23rd Psalm.
“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…”
Ellen leans on her sister, and the boys lean on her in the chairs lining the grave atop green AstroTurf. She thinks she’d be cried out by now, but it isn’t the case.
“He maketh me lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me besides still waters…”
Wall recites dramatically with soothing, compassionate assurance. He rests his Bible on the flag covering Bone’s casket, delivering the passage as if the mourners are hearing it for the first time. Bone is hearing it for the last.
McDowd stands behind the officer in charge of the honor guard. He looks at Edwards, and although they both wear sunglasses, they know they’re making eye contact, mindful that the shadow of death is upon them all.
“Speaking of my enemies,” Edwards discreetly steals a glance at his watch. “Day’s wasting.”
“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord, forever.”
“Amen.” the assembled say.
Wall nods to the honor guard, and they set to work.
“Detail! Present arms!” the captain barks. The firing party snaps into position, the clacking of their weapons starting and stopping in unison.
“Ready! Aim! Fire!”
The gunshots jolt everyone. Ellen nearly jumps out of her seat. All those in uniform stand at attention, saluting as the fire team repeats the volleys twice more.
The last shots echoes off the nearby suburban homes and into silence before the bugler begins “Taps.” Nearly to the second, the flight of A-10’s arrive, and as they reach the gravesite, one breaks off and into a steep climb, its big twin engines thrusting it into the heavens while the soldiers fold the flag.
Once finished, the sergeant in charge presents the flag to the captain. After inspecting and adjusting the fold, he turns and stiffly walks over to Ellen and the boys. Bending over to her, he offers her the flag, but her sad smile stops him.
“Please, young man, not to me. To the boys.” Ellen asks, remembering her friend.
Kate’s suggestion.
The officer holds the star spangled banner out to Boo and Russ. “Gentlemen, this flag is presented on behalf of a grateful nation and the United States Army as a token of appreciation of your loved one’s honorable and faithful service.”
Tears stream down their cheeks as they take the flag, the symbol of the country for which their father, in some way, had died protecting. The officer steps back and smartly salutes.
Reverend Wall offers the final prayer. “Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in sure and certain hope of the resurrection of eternal life, through Christ our Lord, Amen.”
Closing his good book, and closing his eyes, he asks one last favor from his fallen friend. “Rest well, James.”
Edwards remembers an old saying that used to freak the shit out of him, the one that says survivors of a nuclear war will envy the dead. He likes it even less now.
As the gathered begin to disperse, the gravediggers wait patiently at a respectable distance until only Edwards and McDowd remain.
“Go ahead, guys,” McDowd shouts over to them.
“Thanks for getting me back here with him,” he says to Edwards.
The winch begins lowering Bone into his hole and as they watch the grim labor, both dwell upon their own eventual departures.
Edwards is first to snap out of it. “Well, back to work, son. Let’s see if we can turn this around.” Edwards says, turning his cell phone back on as he walks off.
McDowd gives Bone one last look before following Edwards. “See ya, buddy.”
Something makes him pause; a presence. He spots a flash of yellow off in the distance. He doesn’t see who it was, but he knows somehow it’s Kate.
Chapter 8
Elkton, MD
Hamdi did not rise to his place in the Council of Guardians on the merits of his pious nature alone, though it didn’t hurt. Like any good chess player, it is his ability to look into the future and anticipate the moves of not only his foes, but also his friends, that have made him successful. That is why he has sent Ish to care for his brother-in-law.
There are no good places for Ish to watch the house for any extended period of time without being noticed. Instead he has to take his chances by watching where the country road meets the state highway, the only way in and out and the route they’ll have to take to get to the interstate. The parking lot of a diner gives him a lucky perch. It’s busy enough to not be noticed.
Around 11:30am, a pair of black SUVs emerge from the road. He cannot see past the tinted glass, so he has no idea if Moody is inside. He does, however, feel quite confident that the little coward has betrayed the cause. He has no choice but to follow. He will know if he’s made the right decision when they get to I-95. When they head north to Philadelphia, he smiles. He likes Pennsylvania, especially their lax gun laws, thinking of his new Remington .306 in the trunk.
Chapter 9
Willow Grove Diner
Elayna and the guys sit in a window booth overlooking the runway of the Naval Air Station. The dinner rush has their waitress running, so she doesn’t care that they’ve camped out at the table. Hutnikov thumbs through a men’s magazine and Elayna works on her laptop. Kreichek points to an article in the local paper for Hutnikov to see. He reads the headline, “Deadly chase leads to Russian spy ring…they killed that poor woman.”
“She fucked up.” Elayna announces without looking up.
The two men look at each other, stunned at her disregard.
“Ten people were arrested, our people, and an entire operation blown. Doesn’t that even faze you?” Kreichek asks in amazement.
“No. Those idiots hadn’t produced anything worthwhile in years. I checked. This operation is far more important than the garbage they were sending back,” she explains. “If even one of these people gets away, or falls into their hands, the threat to the Rodina will be devastating.”
“Better them than us,” Hutnikov concludes.
That makes her smile. “I knew you’re smarter than you look.”
He gives her the finger.
“One cold bitch,” Kreichek smiles. “So now what?”
“There are motels nearby. They probably hav
e video grabs of us by now, so be evasive. You and I will check into one as a happy couple,” she tells Kreichek, who looks at Hutnikov with raised eyebrows. “And you will check into a different one down the street. They will be looking for three together. Not a couple at one and a single at another.”
Hutnikov looks hurt. “Why do I have to be the odd man out?”
“Because you’re a man, you’re odd, so you’re out.”
“And tomorrow?” Kreichek asks.
“We wait until dark and then move. First, the mechanics, then the bike man, the woman and the gardener. The weapons must be in his possession, most likely on his property.”
“Yes, we figured that as well, but how do we find them?” Kreichek says.
She takes from her bag what looks like a smart phone. “This is a gamma radiation detector. It doesn’t have much range, but once we’re in the area we’ll find them.”
“That’s all we need to find our payday…” Kreichek thinks as he stares at the device. “Once we have that, who needs her?”
Chapter 10
Willow Grove Naval Air Station
“Dave? Bob. We’re just getting off the highway.”
“Wow! That was fast! What’d you’d bring us?”
“Hopefully a way out of this.”
“That would be nice,” Edwards tells him.
“Mr. Barabi has agreed to help us identify the man he met, but he’s still a little foggy about exactly where that was. He tossed his directions, so we’ll have to find the place.”
“So when?”
“First thing. I don’t want to show up empty-handed. I want a full tactical team on this. These people are military, after all.”
“I’m sure Haddad will be happy to oblige,” Edwards says sarcastically.
“Yeah, well, we’ll talk about that. We can’t afford another fumble. Our info on this is solid. We’re stopping at a diner, you want us to get you something?”
“Got a pen?”
“Go ahead,” Bob says as the driver finds a spot in the crowded lot. The second truck isn’t so lucky. Bob’s driver gets the other SUV’s order and tells them to go on ahead.
With the list, Bob hops out of the truck and Moody tries to do the same.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Bob says.
“I have to take a piss,” Moody explains.
At first Bob hesitates, but then relents. “Stay with him,” he tells the driver.
Edwards’ lengthy list of delicacies include: fries with gravy, a pizza burger, aka “the red death,” apple pie with cheddar, corned beef hash and eggs and a tuna melt. Bob considers a Reuben while holding the diner’s front door open for a knockout brunette leaving the place. She gives him a dark smile in thanks.
Ordering a coffee at the counter, he takes in the classic American scene. Blue-haired seniors catching a bite before Bingo, second-shift workers in name-tagged uniforms, a spattering of cammos from the base, shirts, ties, and women in business suits bought from Macy’s. The waitresses are straight out of central casting: rock candy, sweet but hard. Not a stitch of Armani or Prada to be found anywhere.
Bob is a little envious of his fellow diners; they have no clue of what is going on. Ignorance is in fact bliss.
“More coffee, sweetie?” the waitress asks.
“Sure, thanks.”
His spot at the counter gives him a little entertainment, listening to girls chitchat and gripe about their customers.
“Finally got rid of those campers, huh?” one says to another.
“Yeah, those three didn’t leave much, damn foreigners.”
Bob smiles and shakes his head. His mind plays back the smile of the woman he had held the door open coming in.
Moody and the driver return from the john, and Bob gestures for him to take a seat at the counter and wait.
Chapter 11
Instead of a spot, Ish finds an opportunity, eyeing the large glass windows of the diner, and a parking lot across the busy four-lane street. From here, he can see everything going on inside the diner. Adrenaline jolts through his veins when he recognizes the old CIA agent sitting at the counter and Moody right next to him. He now knows what he must do, what Allah has created him for. He moves quickly to get the rifle from the trunk of the car, grateful for the darkness. No one will see him.
The gun is not properly sighted, but the distance is not that great. He chambers the first round before looking through the scope. He knows that he will only get off two or three shots at best. Now he finds his first target through the scope.
He smiles. “Sitting duck, they say…”
But whom does he take first?
Chapter 12
“You ordered me cheese fries?” Freaks angrily says to Edwards.
In response, Edwards holds out his hands in an expression of innocence. “An innocent mistake. My bad. You don’t have to cry over it.”
Freaks pulls on his jacket, scowling at Edwards. “I said cheese fries, not fries with gravy!”
“Jesus! Don’t have a cow, brother! Just call him and tell ’em to change the order.” Edwards didn’t alter the order by accident. He prefers gravy. It is a prickly point that goes way back between the two men. It started as a debate, but escalated into an argument, and once nearly to blows when Edwards suggested that a preference to cheese fries is indicative of a lower IQ, despite Freaks having two master’s degrees.
“Fuck that. It’s two minutes down the road,” he shouts. “Besides, it stinks in here!” he adds, storming out.
McDowd grabs his coat too. “Hold on, Freaks, I’ll keep you company.”
Chapter 13
The waitress behind the counter places the bags of food in front of Bob. “Here ya go, sweetie, don’t get a tummy ache.”
“Uh-oh, that doesn’t sound good,” Bob replies.
“Oh, it’s good, just greasy.”
The crash of breaking glass, not an uncommon sound in a diner, makes Bob turn around. An instant later, hearing a wet-sounding thud, he turns back to see a small red hole in the waitress’s forehead, and blood sprayed all over the wall behind her, before she collapses to the floor. A woman screams.
The second shot brings down the whole front window. Bob drops for cover, pulling Moody with him, wondering where the second shot went. When he looks at Moody next to him on the floor, he knows. The round got him right in the eye.
Bob’s driver crouches over him, screaming into the radio for help. Guns drawn, they look for targets. As Bob begins to move, he slips on the expanding pool of Moody’s blood. He checks for a pulse that is no longer there.
Ish tosses the rifle into the back seat, jumps in, and tears out of the parking lot. He missed the CIA devil but did get the traitorous pig. Now all he has to do is get clear. By the time the police respond, he’ll be long gone, and thanks to the darkness and the distance from the target, it is unlikely anyone would have seen enough to provide a description. He’ll be out of the country in hours.
Hearing what’s happening over the radio, Freaks punches it. He has his Crown Vic going so fast, he almost blows by the diner. He slams on the brakes, nearly throwing McDowd through the windshield and t-boning a car coming out of the lot across the street. Like a deer trapped in headlights, they see its driver look right at him. Freaks never forgets a face, and recognizes this one in an instant.
Kabul. The man in the window across the alleyway the night Bone was killed and his shit eating smile.
“Mother fucker…”
He punches the pedal again, throwing McDowd back into the seat. “What the fuck are you doing?” McDowd shouts, stumped why they’re leaving the shooting scene behind.
“That’s the fucker who shot your pal Bone.”
Ish pulls out, not terribly concerned but watching the stopped car recede in his mirror. He glances away ahead, beginning to relax, but when he looks again, he sees the car coming on fast with its flashing lights. He
too hits the gas of his rented Dodge Charger, weaving wildly between traffic on the busy street, hoping that sheer speed will scare off whoever is chasing him. He passes seventy. There is little margin of error now as he barrels through intersections without regard. He misses a mom in a mini-van packed with kids by a foot. No horn. No warning for the janitor crossing the street. The impact hurls him nearly fifteen feet into an oncoming truck.
That makes Ish smile, hoping that their pathetic empathy will make them give up the chase.
McDowd wants to help, but all he can do is give the play by play over the radio of the carnage left behind. Sideswiped drivers emerge from their cars, only to be scared shitless by Freaks’ lights and siren screaming by the broken glass and twisted metal littering the intersections.
“Freaks! Dude!” McDowd warns.
“This fuck isn’t getting away,” he says.
“I know.”
Looking back, Ish frowns seeing the flashing lights emerge from the pockets of chaos he’s created. Time to try something else.
He jerks the wheel left, crossing into oncoming traffic, and then flies down the exit ramp to the turnpike. He shoots past the tollbooth doing eighty, and starts heading east in the westbound lanes.
The traffic is surprisingly light, with good reason. Cones block two of the three lanes. They’re speeding the wrong way into a construction zone. Ish pushes his car past one hundred.
“Now I will expose you to be the cowards you are.”
They have the empty lanes to themselves for a couple of miles, until they round a bend and see the yellow flashing lights of work vehicles ahead. Instead of backing off, Freaks puts the pedal to the metal.
They gain quickly on the car; the Crown Victoria’s P-70 interceptor engine presses them into their seats. McDowd shoots Freaks a worried look, but he just smiles back.
“Watch this…” Freaks hits the high beams and rams the car, but it is not the classic pick maneuver.