Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 97275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Even knowing he was joking around set my guts on fire. I wanted to punch him in the face, and give him a hug at the same time. James knew me better than anybody, even Payton. We grew up as best friends. We lost our virginity on the same night. We went to boot camp and Ranger school together. We’ve killed together. We’ve done everything together. Now that knowledge of each other was about to be put to the test; at least on James part.
We were sitting in an abandoned building’s parking lot on the South side of town directly across from Detective Dick Wilson’s house. James drove me in his truck since I was sure I wasn’t going to be leaving here in a cop car or an ambulance.
Sam and the others were working behind the scenes trying to connect the dots. Now that we’d received the information we’d been looking for, it would only be a matter of time before the house of cards that O’Hare carefully stacked crumbled.
“She’s going to kill me. And you. And all of us.” James muttered.
I yanked open the door to the truck and started my trek across the street. I knew Dick’s place as well as I could under the circumstances. I knew it wouldn’t be but ten minutes before the cops would be there to stop the altercation. I just hoped I was able to get everything I needed out of him in such a short time.
I ignored the doorbell and went right for forced entry. That would get me where I wanted to be faster. Taking the heel of my booted foot, I raised it up to just under the door knob, and kicked the door in. The force of my kick sent the door banging in hard and planting the doorknob into the plaster behind it.
Dick jumped up off the couch, and reached for his forty caliber Glock that was in an ankle holster on his right leg.
“Don’t move.” I demanded as I raised my forty-five and aiming it at his chest.
He froze, and slowly lifted himself up until his hands hovered in the air at head level. “Turn around and put your hands on your head.” I demanded.
He complied reluctantly, and I handcuffed his hands together. “Turn back around.”
He did as I said and I instructed him to sit down at the kitchen chair closest to him. Once he complied, I moved to stand directly in front of him. “So how’d you do it?”
He glanced around the room, and then to my eyes, and quickly away again. “How did I do what?”
Sighing in aggravation, I made quick work of duct taping his hands and arms to the chair. I stared at him, not blinking, until he started to squirm in his seat. “Dick, I’m not here to play games. I know you were expecting me eventually, so I know the silent alarm has already been tripped. I’ve planned for it. Trust me. Now tell me what I need to know.”
He licked his lips nervously, still not saying anything, and I smiled. “So this is how you want it to go?”
He sucked his lips between his teeth; my guess was because he didn’t want to die. Most likely O’Hare had threatened him if he said anything. The good thing was that I only needed O’Hare to think I was out of the picture. I only needed her to think that I was tucked in jail, blissfully unaware of the danger that lurked at my door while I was away.
The good thing was that I did know. I knew everything now. My slow brain finally caught up. None of this was really about me. She just needed a scapegoat. Someone to take the fall for the mission failure that happened in Iraq. She need her fall guy to get her own ass out of hot water with the damn terrorist she’d hooked up with when her own government had turned its back on her.
When I had arrived in Iraq, I’d disrupted a mission that was nine months in the making. She was about to be let go from the CIA, and she was pissed. So pissed that she decided the best thing to do was to go to the one organization that would take her in without question. An organization that would help her get revenge on the country she loved, the country that had betrayed her in her own mind.
“I don’t really need you to talk. It would be nice if you did, though. You’re going to die. O’Hare won’t let you live when she thinks that I got all the information out of you. She doesn’t need to know that we had an anonymous tip come in; she doesn’t need to know that you kept your oath.” I said giving him a manic smile.
I wanted him to think all was lost. I wanted him to think that I would spare his life if he gave me something in return. It wouldn’t help, but I would make him think it would. So, I started walking towards him. Reaching into his shirt pocket, I extracted his cell phone and started it recording.
“Now tell me, Dick. What did you do to get rehired after you were fired so publicly?” I taunted.
Going behind his back, I ripped the white shirt he was wearing at the neck until most of his back was bared to me. Then I walked to his front and pulled out my pocketknife.
“I just sharpened her this morning. This won’t hurt a bit.” I said and then walked behind him.
I snickered to myself when he started babbling for me not to hurt him. “Its okay, Dick. These first ones will only be superficial. I’m hoping that you decide to talk.”
Closing the knife, I put it back into my pocket silently and withdrew a paint pen. One that would leave a wet and cold feeling if drawn upon the skin. For even greater effect, if you held it down long enough, paint would start seeping out of the edges of the tip and run down, eluding to the feeling of “blood.” I’d seen this on a TV show when I was younger, and when I interrogated my first suspect, I’d used this idea, and it worked brilliantly.