Authors: Rick Jones
There was no snow globe.
Punch Murdock had lied.
#
Kimball stood in
the shadows
feeling regret like no other. Letting his emotions go the way he did only made
him consider that he hadn’t changed at all, but became a throwback and killed
with the cold fortitude of a machine, making him no different than the men who
lay dead at his feet.
“Nehemiah’s gone.” Leviticus’ confirmation was flat and
spiritless, the voice of grieving.
“And there’s no one left of the Tangos,” said Kimball. “I
bear all responsibility for my actions.”
“It’s not your fault, Kim—”
“It
is
my fault!” he interceded angrily. And then
more calmly as if he caught himself and tried to make amendments of change,
said, “I was wrong. I gave way to emotion even though I knew we needed these
people alive. And
I’m
the one who always teaches
against
losing
control. Everything I base my experiences on is
all
about control and
now we have nothing.” He stepped away and bowed his head in self-admonishment.
Why, he asked,
can’t I do anything right?
#
Punch Murdock stood
in the doorway
with the point of his weapon directed at Shari’s center of body mass. “I can’t
really say that I’m sorry it had to be like this,” he told her. He then stepped
into the room, his eyes on the pistol in her shoulder holster. “You scared a
lot of people, Ms. Cohen. But now it’s all coming to an end.”
She cocked her head in disbelief. “I don’t get it. Why are
you doing this?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
And then it came to her in a sudden rush. “You’re Yahweh,
aren’t you? And you’re trying to start a war by using the pope as a catalyst.”
Murdock’s lips curved into a wry grin, and in her honor his
fingers tipped the brim of his fedora. “I’m impressed,” he said “You are
perceptive. I am the catalyst. But I’m not Yahweh.”
She looked past him, a miniscule glance, but Murdock picked
up on it and shook his head.
“Kimball Hayden?” he asked. “Is that who you’re looking for?
Well, I’m afraid he has his hands quite full at the moment.”
Shari was surprised by his insight.
“Oh, yeah,” Murdock said, moving closer. “I know all about
Kimball Hayden. Why he’s here is beyond me, though—a mystery actually. But I
don’t think his presence is going to matter much since he’s out there and
you’re in here.” He managed the weapon so its aim was directly in line with the
cleft of her breasts and pulled the trigger in rapid succession. The bullets
hit her with such fierce momentum that she was lifted off her feet, over the
bed, and sent to the floor on the other side. It was a perfect strike. Then,
tipping the brim of his fedora one last time, Murdock gave a cocky smile and
said, “Good night, Gracie.”
#
Three loud reports
came from
within the mansion, the gunshots spaced in rapid succession. And all Kimball
could think about was Shari’s welfare. If something happened to her, he knew he
would never forgive himself for allowing her to go inside the house alone. But
in his heart, he knew it was over.
Washington, D.C.
September 28, Just After Midnight
With the odor of cordite rich in the
air, Shari rolled on her side and undid the strap securing her Glock in the
pancake holster.
She pulled the weapon and pointed it in the direction of
Murdock’s approaching footfalls that seemed to fall with the slow and measured
cadence of a man who thought he had all the time in the world. When he rounded
the corner of the bed his mouth gaped in surprise, his hooded eyes informing
her that he had made the critical mistake of thinking he had completed the job,
thinking he had killed her on the first volley of gunfire.
In recompense he tried to raise his weapon to finish the
job, a headshot this time, but Shari squeezed off round after round. Bullets
flew until her clip was empty, the hammer striking an empty chamber in a series
of dry clicks until she realized she had exhausted her ammo.
As she laid there, the air thick with roiling blue smoke,
she could hear the vague sound of something shuffling along the floor, like a
serpent slithering. After she ran her fingers across the three impact points
along her body armor, she struggled to her feet and managed a wavering stance
over a writhing Murdock, his kneecap ruined.
#
Kimball spun toward
the
brownstone. More shots. Ironically the reports rekindled his hope as he raced
up the stairway and into the foyer, these last shots no doubt a response to the
first barrage. He just hoped it was a defensive reaction from Shari.
He entered the den following the odor of cordite and ran
along the hall and into the bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, massaging
the Kevlar vest with her hand, Shari offered Kimball a strained smile. It was
the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.
Murdock, screaming in agony, broke the spell between them.
His long wailing cry pierced the brownstone and the night.
#
Boston, Massachusetts
Team Leader sat
with his back
against the cold brick wall, his mind in deep thought when his satellite phone
vibrated in his pocket. After switching ‘ON,’ he placed the cell to his ear.
“Yes?”
“They’re gone,” said Yahweh, his voice deeply riddled with
agitation. “Omega Team is gone and Judas is in the custody of the FBI. This
whole thing is out of control! Abort the cause. It’s done!”
“I don’t think so. You knew there was the possibility of the
stove in the kitchen getting too hot. Now you’re going to have to deal with
it.”
“I don’t think you understood what I just said. I said the
cause is aborted!”
“And you listen to me. I don’t care what your position is in
this country. You were well aware of the risks and consequences before you
agreed to go along with the movement.”
“That’s because you assured me every contingency was thought
out to the point where any and all matters could be curbed or adjusted to fit
our
needs.”
“And they will be. Your panic is premature, I assure you.”
“My panic—you listen to me, Obadiah, Omega Team is gone and
Judas is a wealth of information to draw from, if he chooses to talk.”
“Then the answer is simple,” he said. “Remove Judas from the
equation. He’s been nothing but a boil anyway.”
“To you everything has an answer. Well there’s no answer to
this!”
“Oh, but there is,” he said. “You have George Pappandopolous
and Mr. Paxton waiting in the shadows as field backups. I suggest you utilize
them since they have the clearance to approach Judas without suspicion.”
Yahweh was silent.
“You have no other choice,” said Team Leader. “The cause
will go on with or without you. It’s up to you to mop up the mess, so I suggest
you keep your wits and command yourself in the manner in which your position
requires.”
“My position requires the cause to succeed. But now that
it’s been compromised, it’s time to abort and cover our tracks.”
“Aborting the mission is not an option,” he insisted. “You
fail to understand that I’m in a win-win situation. If they intend a search and
destroy mission of this post, then the world will know that factions
within
the United States government was behind the taking of the pope, which the White
House will want to keep secret. And since they’ll want to keep this matter
undisclosed to the worldwide public, then we’ll continue with the cause. When I
said there’ll be no discussions, no debates and no negotiations, then there
will be no discussions, no debates and no negotiations. We will follow this to
the end.”
As displeased as Yahweh was, he couldn’t find the courage of
rebuttal.
“Remember, Pappandopolous and Paxton are our last line of
defense. Make sure they don’t fail.” Team Leader hung up the cell phone, looked
at it briefly, then tossed it into the darkness. It was obvious to Team Leader
that Yahweh was no longer a main player in the picture, his mettle dwindling
like a sandcastle in the wind. Nevertheless, the cause would remain stalwart
without his support.
Within a minute the phone was ringing, its faceplate
lighting up.
Casually Team Leader stood and walked to the phone with his
hands clasped behind the small of his back. He tilted his head to one side, as
if in a manner to study, and then with the heel of his boot crushed the phone
into shards of broken circuitry.
As I said: There will be no discussions, no debates and
no negotiations. Your pope is as good as dead.
Once the phone was completely disintegrated, Team Leader
walked away feeling assured that the United States government wouldn’t try to
compromise the cause for fear of media discovery. In truth, he knew the
Americans would allow the cause to run its course and set the world
metaphorically on fire by fueled passion rather than take the blame for the
pope’s kidnapping. He truly was in a win-win situation.
Team Leader turned and walked into deeper, darker shadows,
his shape blending with the all-consuming pitch as his footfalls echoed in
cadence until they dissipated into steady silence.
#
Once Kimball had
established
that Shari was all right, he began the task of doing what the Vatican Knights
do best. Before the arrival of law enforcement, Kimball and the rest of the
Knights policed the area, removing any evidence of the skirmish by placing the
bodies in the back of the van. The Force Elite, along with Nehemiah, had simply
vanished. Within moments, the shadows held nothing more than the obvious
nightshades.
The Vatican Knights and their targets disappeared as quickly
as they had emerged.
Washington, D.C., Southeast Washington Hospital
September 28, Early Morning
Murdock lay in a hospital bed. The
lower portion of his leg had been removed just above the knee with the stump
bandaged and elevated. Although under the haze of pain killers, Murdock was
barely cognizant. “You have to protect me,” he said lazily. “You know they’ll
be coming for me.”
Shari went to the bedside and stood with her arms folded,
her body English that of little remorse for the man who lay before her. In
fact, she tried to kill him; it’s just that she was never much of a sharpshooter.
“Who?” she asked. “Who’s coming for you?”
His eyes wandered until they settled on her. “Oh . . . it’s
you.”
“That’s right. It’s me. Who’s coming for you?”
FBI Director Larry Johnston moved in behind her.
“Them,” Murdock said, “whoever is left of Omega Team—the
Force Elite. Whoever is left under the command of Yahweh.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Johnston.
“The cause,” he said above a whisper. In his condition the
effort was equal to yelling.
“You’re talking about the pope’s kidnapping?”
His eyes rotated back to her. “I’ll give you whatever you
want,” he told her. “But I want a deal.”
“No deal,” said Johnston.
Murdock rolled his head on the pillow and stared at the
ceiling.
“Were you there that night the Secret Service detail was
murdered at the Governor’s Mansion?” Johnston asked.
Murdock remained silent.
“What kind of deal are you looking for?” asked Shari.
Murdock fashioned a lazy smile. “That’s my girl,” he said.
“I want clemency.”
“Impossible.” Johnston took the request as an insult.
“It’s your call, bonehead. But keep in mind that the pope’s
life is hanging in the balance and you’re running out of time.”
Johnston, humbled, turned a deep shade of red. “You know we
have to keep the Oversight Committee out of this.”
“I know that. All I’m asking is that I don’t end up in
potter’s field once I give you what you need to know. In other words, don’t
make me suddenly disappear.”
“And why should I give you the benefit of the doubt?”
“Because I’m a coward at heart,” he said. “That’s why.”
Johnston turned to Shari. Although the communication between
them was silent, it was also as vociferous as if the exchange of ideas couldn’t
have been louder. He turned back to Murdock. “Life in a military installation
under solitary conditions,” he offered.
The corner of his lip twisted into a smile. “A courtyard,”
he said. “I want a courtyard.”
Johnston knew the term didn’t refer to an actual courtyard,
but a barred window offering a view of the grounds. He rolled his eyes and
fought for calm. “Granted.”
“I have your word?”
“You have our word,” said Shari.
“Shouldn’t we notarize this or something?”
“Don’t get cute, Murdock. You got what you want.”
Murdock chortled in lethargic glee before falling into a
coughing jag, and then he began in earnest to talk about the cause. He
explained his role, his taking the moniker of Judas, and the Soldiers of Islam
and their executions. He explained his responsibility at the Governor’s
Mansion, of how he had drawn his detail into complacency and aided in their
deaths by allowing Omega Team to breach security. At times he was graphic,
other times evasive, but a picture was drawn and light cast upon the kidnapping
of the pope. Situations and events were beginning to fall into order, and all
led to principals on Capitol Hill, especially Yahweh.
“Is the president involved in this?” Shari asked. “Is
he
Yahweh?”
A mirthful grin surfaced. “Perhaps,” he said. “But that
would be giving up the prize, now wouldn’t it?”
“You made a deal.”
“And so did you.”
“What more do you want?” asked Johnston.
“I’ll give you two names in good faith—two names who are the
last line of defense for the cause who will be pressed into duty to take me
out. Yahweh will no doubt send them forward to kill me to keep his identity
safe.” Murdock had to labor to roll his head so he could look directly at Shari
and Johnston. “You know what has to be done since you know that the courts will
play no role in this . . . it’s always been the political answer to
everything.”
“You’re asking us to take out two people?” asked Shari.
“Are you surprised?”
Johnston said nothing.
“You know what has to be done to keep the truth buried,”
added Murdock.
“We
don’t
do that,” Johnston said. “Get your head
straight.” But Johnston knew Murdock was correct in suggesting that those with
damaging secrets are doomed to a short life. Shari, on the other hand, hadn’t
worked long enough for the FBI to know of the possible existence of black op
groups working within government agencies who conducted such tasks. The Force Elite
was one such group. Were there more?
“Save my life,” he said, “and I’ll give up Yahweh. He’s the
only one who can give you the location of the pope, since he’s the only one who
actually knows where the pope is. The ball is now in your court.”
Johnston placed a hand softly on Shari’s shoulder and
ushered her toward the door. “Give me a moment alone with him,” he told her.
“Let me see if I can reason with him about what we want and assure him of his
safety. I’ll have him moved to an installation immediately.”
“Don’t push him into a shell,” she demanded.
“I won’t. Trust me.” Once she was in the hallway, he closed
the door.
“What’s the matter?” Murdock asked in snide accusation. “You
don’t want her to know the truth?”
“No, I don’t. She’s a good officer with a good heart, which
is more than I can say for you.”
“Bravo. So what is it you want to say to me that you
couldn’t say in front of Girl Wonder there?”
“You know what I want.”
“You want names.”
“Exactly. And you know why?”
“To keep the deep, dark secrets of the good ol’ US-of-A out
of the hands of those who couldn’t bear to hear them,” he said.
“The names.”
Punch Murdock looked Johnston in the eyes and saw nothing
but conviction. He gave him two names that, judging by his grimace, seemed to
wound Johnston. “That’s right. Pappandopolous and Paxton are the eyes and ears
within the agency who report any red flags to Yahweh or Obadiah.”
Johnston’s features hardened. “This better pan out.”
Murdock’s head rolled lazily back so he was staring at the
ceiling again. “It will,” he said. “It most certainly will.” And then he closed
his eyes.
“I got one last question.”
Murdock’s eyes labored to open. His lids fluttered briefly
then stabilized. “Go ahead.”
“Those men on the president’s detail—you knew them, and you
knew them well, so how could you set them up?”
A dreamy smile washed over Murdock’s face. “For two
reasons,” he said. “One was for the money. It’s always been about the money.”
He seemed to drift. “I picked out a small island off the coast of Belize. A
beautiful place you can only dream about. Sandy beaches, a beautiful view of
the sunset.” His gentle repose turned to forced calm, the muscles in the back
of his jaw suddenly working. “And now it’s gone,” he said. “All of it. My
dreams, my life . . . everything.”
“How much money are we talking about?”
“You said one question.”
“I was mistaken. How much money?”
Murdock ran a dry tongue over even drier lips. “Ten
million,” he managed. “That was to be wired to my account in Belize.”
Johnston had to wonder. “Where was this money coming from?”
“From the oil companies,” he said. “It was to be an upfront
fee for services provided.”
“And your purpose was to infiltrate the Governor’s mansion
and set the stage while the Force Elite went through the back door that you left
unlocked for them, theoretically speaking?”
“You’re not as dumb as you look. But you’re ugly.”
“So what’s the second reason?”
Murdock shook his head. “It’s the rule of thumb for this
city,” he said. “You know that.”
“Actually, I don’t. So suppose you enlighten me.”
Murdock sighed as if being burdened. “We do illegal things,”
he started, “because we don’t think we’ll ever get caught. Ask any politician.
They’ll tell you the same thing.” He raised his hand to reveal the handcuff
that bound him to the bed rail. “And is this necessary? Do you really expect a
one-legged man doped to the gills to get up and walk out of here?”
“You know the procedure.”
The standoff was long and silent, each man trying to read
the thoughts of the other, their poker faces unreadable.
“You gave me your word,” said Murdock. “Life with a
courtyard view.”
“And I’ll keep it, providing that what you gave me pans out.
But I want Yahweh.”
Murdock’s features softened, then fell into a dismal
appearance. His eyes and mouth took on the appearance of the Greek Mask of
Tragedy. “And you’ll get him.”
Johnston remained impassive. “Just so you know,” he told
him. “This agreement continues only as long as the pope is alive. If he dies,
then there’s no point in keeping the bargain. If the bargain goes away, so does
the man who wields the secret
—unless you want to tell me now who Yahweh is.”
Murdock nodded. “I’m trying to prove my loyalty to you by
providing you with two names in good faith.”
“You’re doing it to save your pathetic life.”
Murdock had to agree. “Yeah, well—”
“Give me Yahweh.”
“I can’t. It’s my only leverage.”
For now
, thought Johnston. There was no way Murdock
was going to live once all information was gleaned. After that, the man was as
good as dead regardless of whatever good faith deal he thought he had arranged.
Murdock was simply buying time. For the most part, death was the panacea for
all problems, the unwritten rule for those who have no chance of redemption in
the eyes of the government. Murdock was a doomed man, and both men knew it.
“Have it your way, Murdock. If the pope dies—”
“Yeah-yeah, I know, so does the man who wields the secret.
You already told me.”
Johnston exited the room and met Shari waiting in the
hallway.
“I know why you made me leave,” she said.
“Really?”
“There’s truth in what he said, isn’t there?”
“About what?”
“About his concern of being taken out because he knows about
the involvement of
our
government in this situation, and perhaps
that
information getting out to the world community.”
Johnston sighed. “Shari, the man has a viable fear because
of the Force Elite. He sees this
one
organization and now all of a
sudden the government is loaded with them. Don’t start looking in shadows for
something that’s not there.”
“I looked in one shadow and found the Force Elite.”
“Yes, you did. And you did a fine job on this, believe me.
You really made this agency shine. But don’t take the yammering of one
insurgent and start believing that there are assassins hiding around every
corner.”
“Then why did you make me leave?”
“I told you, so I could reason with him and assure him of
his safety.”
“And you couldn’t do that while I was standing there?”
“Shari, you shot the man’s leg off! You think I can make a
promise like that with you standing two feet away from him?”
Shari wasn’t convinced, but decided to drop it nonetheless.
Deep inside she knew the truth—Murdock was as good as dead. All of a sudden she
wasn’t so sure she wanted to be part of a government entity. Johnston picked up
on this.
“Look,” he said, “it’s a big government in a big land with
big responsibilities, okay? It’s not perfect and sometimes things have to be
adjusted right, wrong or indifferent, and sometimes against moral
idealizations. It may not be ideal; Shari, but you, I or any citizen in this
country wouldn’t give it up knowing this is probably the best government in the
world. And yes, the Force Elite is apparently active. And we’ll get to the
bottom of that, but you have to understand that things like this will happen,
and when they do, we’ll correct it.”
“And by correcting it, you mean by erasing somebody?”
“Of course. You know that something like the Force Elite
can’t get out. But if you’re talking about Murdock, yes. What he knows could
prove costly to this government and you know it. So again, yes. His erasure
will come in the form of a lifetime sentence in solitary confinement in a
federal pen until the day he dies,” he lied, and started to walk down the
hallway with Shari in tow.
“Sir?”
He turned to her. “What?”
“Are you going to have Murdock killed?”
Johnston’s features didn’t flinch. “Absolutely not.”
He’s no different than those involved on either side
,
she considered. As far as she was concerned, they all shared the same core.
Without saying anything more, Shari exited through the door
at the opposite end of the hallway.