Civilian Henry Feather

PART ONE

~ 1 ~

Henry Feather was a killer. But not just any old kind of killer going nuts on a Saturday night and beating someone to death or mowing them down in his car on a dark suburban street. Or even fighting hand-to-hand like a soldier in a war. No, Henry was much more methodical than that. But then again, he was trained to be that way. 

When Henry was about fifteen years old, his father, Tom Feather, believing him to be incorrigible, used his political influence, which was formidable since he was a US Senator, to get Henry into West Point. Here they not only made a man out of Henry, but they groomed him for an eventual career in either the army or Marines as a sniper.

Henry entered West Point as a thin, introverted teenager. But once he had figured out the lay of the land and what he would have to do to get where he wanted to go, he realized that he would not only have to be mentally sharp, but he also needed to be in excellent physical shape. 

Year after year, for the four years he was there, Henry got more and more dedicated to both building his body and fine-tuning his shooting skills. Because he knew full well that having those two qualities were the key to achieving his goal, even though he only had a kind of abstract notion in his head about what that goal would be.

Besides Henry’s father, there was no other family in his life. His mother had been killed in a car accident when he was about ten years old, so his memories of her were vague at best. He was an only child and his grandparents had all passed. 

His father, who cared about him, hoped he would follow the typical West Point route into one branch or another of the armed forces. And that would help burn the underachieving troublemaker out of him.

At West Point, Henry quickly discovered that his affinity for shooting was, quite simply, the only thing so far in his life that held any interest for him. Underneath the rebellious exterior, Henry was an extremely intelligent kid and the way he was methodically applying himself at the Academy was his way of proving that to himself.

What Henry didn’t realize as he plowed his way through West Point was that a man named Aaron Phillips was keeping a close eye on him. Phillips was an ex-Army sniper and one of the West Point shooting instructors. A very important part of his job was as a talent scout for the military.

During his last year at West Point, after Henry had made up his mind to join the armed forces for at least one hitch, he did a lot of research on the differences between Army snipers and Marine Corps snipers. The main difference he discovered was that the Army placed almost total value on shooting ability, whereas the Marines were equally as interested in the psychological aspect of the role. 

As he laid in his bunk and mulled over all the research he had done, Henry concluded that the army would be the better choice, simply because the main qualification was shooting ability. Henry had no desire to be evaluated psychologically for fear of what that might reveal. He had become much more of a well-adjusted human being at West Point and really didn’t want to spoil that by knowing too much of the why of it.

As his graduation day was winding down and his father was on his way back to D.C. Aaron Phillips sat down with Henry. He explained that his report to the brass would be extremely positive and that he would undoubtedly be asked to join the Army. After an initial training period, he would head straight into an eight-week sniper training course, where he would earn the rank of specialist. Phillips saw something in Henry which was a key element in the sniper’s world. Phillips told Henry that he had amply demonstrated the ability to focus completely and that level of focus was reflected in his shooting average, which was the best Phillips had seen in several years. Henry had all the other right stuff, which also included patience, detachment and objectivity. 

In short, he had all the makings of a legendary sniper, and Phillips was not going to let him get away. So Phillips was extremely delighted that Henry’s reaction was positive.

~ 2 ~

Twelve weeks later, Henry and his squad of four, which included himself, his spotter, and two surveillance drone specialists  were flown into Camp Lemonier on the outskirts of the city of Djibouti in Sudan.

His spotter and squad leader was a Lieutenant named Keith Fraser. He was ten years older than Henry, but a good guy who understood his role on the team. The objective of their mission was to find and surveil dissident camps and assassinate the leaders and as many as they could of the groups in those camps.

They worked with drones which were camera-only equipped and extremely small and quiet, but sent back high-resolution visual imagery of the campsites, which in turn, gave Henry his targets. His weapon of choice for this mission was the Barrett MK-22, a highly accurate long-range rifle that was ideal for distances up to 1000 metres. His was built to fire .338 Norma magnums which did massive damage to anyone who took one centre mass. Henry had chosen the Barrett on his first day of sniper training, and it was a good choice because Henry felt like the gun was actually an extension of his body, and he outshot everyone in his training group by a country mile.

Over the course of the next four years, Henry and his team were extremely successful, and proved to the Army something they had hoped for: that small ‘Hunter Packs’ were both deadly and efficient, all made possible by the use of drone technology and a shit hot shooting team. Henry’s four-man group was agile and able to move efficiently and effectively through jungle, urban or desert terrains. But most importantly they were able to translate drone-based location intel into effective and important kills. 

The men in Henry’s pack became good friends and trusted comrades. They were sad to see Henry depart when his hitch was up, despite the persuasive efforts of the local brass.

~ 3 ~ 

Henry was twenty-four when he landed at landed very early in the morning at Andrews Base in Alexandria, Virginia.  His dad had sent a limo to pick him up and bring him to his home in suburban Maryland. The house was a large colonial in a neighbouring town to Baltimore called Owings Mills. The live-in housekeeper and cook, an older lady named Flora Neeley, greeted him warmly and told him that his father would be home later in the evening and really wanted to sit down and have a long chat with him.  Henry figured it would have a lot to do with why he left the army after only one tour. But during those four years, Henry had grown up quite a bit, and he believed his father would be surprised that he had genuinely become his own man during that time. Whether this would be a pleasant or an unpleasant surprise to his father was anybody’s guess.

His room, a large one, overlooking the well-tended back yard, was pretty much the way he left it after graduating from West Point. He could hardly relate to anything that was taped or pinned to the walls or the large corkboard over this desk. And he would definitely need a new computer because the one that was sitting there looked like a relic from a bygone era, which, he supposed, it probably was.

Henry looked through the closet and realized he had grown a little taller and a good deal more muscular, so he would probably need a new wardrobe. What that wardrobe would ultimately consist of would depend on a lot of things. But he figured could definitely use some basics.

It was early afternoon, so he took a quick shower and headed downstairs. The keys to his father’s Lincoln were hanging on a hook by the back door. He told Flora he was going to do a bit of shopping. She went over to a drawer in the kitchen counter.

“Your daddy figured as much, so he left you this.” She handed him a small billfold, with several hundred dollars in cash, a MasterCard and his driver’s license.

He gave Flora a hug and headed out the back door. 

Three hours later he was sitting at an outside table of the Starbucks at the Mill Station Mall, with car full of clothing and a new MacBook Pro laptop. He was sipping a large latte and a croissant and playing around with his new iPhone trying to figure it out, when he heard a female voice behind him. 

“Henry?”

Henry looked around and saw a good-looking young woman staring at him She had long brown hair and was dressed casually with tight jeans and a white peasant shirt. She was holding a large latte. Henry was drawing a blank.

“It’s me. Lucinda.”

Henry smiled as the memory of Lucinda Maxwell, who insisted on being called Lucy, came back. She had lived next door to Henry and they had walked to school together and home again for the last two years of public school. But since then, she had transformed into a completely different person as an adult. Henry was astonished at how beautiful she had become.

Henry got to his feet.

“Lucy. Jesus Christ! Look at you.” Henry said.

“I could say the same.” Lucy said.

Henry gave her a quick hug and then gestured to her to join him which she did.

“So,” Lucy said. “You disappeared after West Point.”

“Yeah. I joined the army as a sniper. Spent four years sweating my ass off in Africa. I’ve literally been back for one day.”

“You quit?”

“Yeah. I did my bit for the country. So now I’m gonna try something new. And what about you?”

 Lucinda’s father owned some sort of ad agency or marketing company in Baltimore.

“I uhhh, went into the family business. Got an art degree at the American University and went to work for my dad. Been there for all of three months.”

“Wow. It’s so good to talk to someone who’s not a soldier. Where are you living?” Henry asked.

“Still right next door to you for the time being. I’m giving myself a year to see if I like the job or not. If not, I think I might try New York. And what about you, Mr Sniper?”

Henry just laughed. “Yeah, that’s the question I asked myself all the way back from Africa. No answer yet.”

“My best advice,” Lucy said. “Take your time. I’m sure the Senator will pull all the necessary strings for anything you want to try.”

“Yeah, I suppose so. There was a car, an updated driver’s license, a wad of cash and a MasterCard waiting for me at home. No dad though. Evidently he’ll be home later tonight, so we can have a chat then, I guess.”

“Well if you ever need to bounce any ideas off someone…”

“I just might take you up on that.”

Lucy looked at her watch. “I’ve gotta go. I’m working at home today. But…why don’t we have dinner?” She said.

“Best offer I’ve had since I got back to the world.”

“Is that what they call it in the army, the world?”

“Yeah, because where we were….it was no world at all.”

“Come and get me at six thirty. We’ll go to Vocelli’s for pizza. I’ll make a reservation for say seven. You can tell me all about the no world.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

With that Lucy got up, touched his cheek and said. “Glad you made it back alive.” Then she was gone.

~ 4 ~

Henry spent another half hour at Starbucks and then headed home to wash all his new clothes and get them ready to wear. All the time he was doing this, his mind of churning. It made him kind of feel uneasy, being back home. The country was so full of people. The energy they gave off was overpowering for someone who had spent the better part of the last four years with three other guys prowling around quietly then bursting quickly into hyperactivity, then being quiet again. 

All the guys in his little squad were introverted, wrapped up in the job of staying alive. Coming back to the States, it felt like he had been let out of a cage into a world with cars and trucks and people everywhere, none of whom wanted to kill him. But it was gonna take him a little while before he would let his guard down.

Henry thought a lot about the idea that he might be suffering from some sort of post-traumatic stress, but then just wrote it off to the massive culture shock that coming back home, even to his suburban life, represented.

After he had washed, dried and ironed everything that needed ironing he laid down on his bed, which felt uncomfortably soft and stared up at the ceiling. He wondered if this is what happened to every soldier who came home after four years in some hellhole without his big gun, his pistol and his knife to protect himself.

It was at this point that he realized he was at a crossroads. He would either suck it up and figure out some sort of civilian life or head back to the Army where he was a highly valued commodity.

He did, however, have the luxury of time to decide, and he really needed to give civilian life a chance to see if that would work out for him.

He then closed his eyes and slept for exactly one hour, after which it was time to go and pick up Lucy for dinner.

Lucy was dressed differently but as casually as she had been when Henry saw her earlier that day. She had a beautiful leather purse slung over her shoulder which she tossed into the back seat of the Continental. 

“So Vocelli’s” Henry said. “That brings back some memories. Pickin’ up pizza and going back to my house to watch the Os.

“Yeah. I still watch some baseball.” Lucy said. “But after you buggered off it was never the same.”

Henry smiled. “Well, I’m back now.”

 Lucy reached out and rubbed Henry’s hand on the steering wheel. “And I’m happy about that.”

Henry looked at her. He noted that her eyes were glistening. He just smiled. “Don’t worry Luce, I’m not gonna bugger off again. Four years of that crap was more than enough”. 

While they were waiting for their orders. Henry took a look around at the full restaurant. He thought he recognized a couple of people but his memories were blurry at best.

“So” Henry said. “It’s Friday night and you are out for dinner with your next door neighbour. Does that imply there’s no one in your life?” Henry asked

Lucy chuckled. “Ahhh, you know, they come and they go. Mostly go. So yeah, there’s nobody right now. I’m in between assholes, as it were.”

Henry got a good laugh out of that. “Well, I’m honoured to be your asshole de jour, so to speak.”

“You were never an asshole, Henry. But I always did see you as a bit of a loner.”

“Well, I didn’t exactly have a normal childhood.”

“No, you didn’t. But look at you now. Ex-army sharpshooter. You know I’ve read that it takes a superior level of concentration and focus to do that.”

Henry scratched his head. “Yeah. they train that into you.”

“But there has to be that capability to start with, right?”

“I suppose. It’s just about the loneliest job you can imagine. But …it’s also extremely gratifying work at the same time.”

“Do you find it hard to talk about this? Because I’m just really interested in the mindset side of it.”

“No, I’m not uncomfortable. In fact, this is the longest conversation I’ve ever had about it. Most people, over there, you know, they leave you alone. It’s kind of a thing they have. Like if they talk to you, they’ll jinx you somehow. It’s pretty weird and sorta dopey. But that’s the way things were. So I don’t mind talking about it at all.”

The waiter brought their pizza and they dug in, while they were eating Lucy completely changed the subject. 

“So, have you been thinking at all about what you’re going to do now that you’re a civilian again?”

“Not really. I want to try and figure out how the country is working these days before I make any moves. I don’t have to work if I don’t want to. I have a trust that takes care of that. But, you know, it would be nice to have something to do that had some value attached to it. But what about you, Lucy? Are you happy doing what you’re doing?”

Lucy thought about it for a moment then said, “Yeah. I think I am. I mean, it’s really just selling stuff and it helps keeps the wheels of commerce turning.”

“I never thought of it that way. But you’re right. It’s all very well organized over here. In Africa everything felt so…chaotic. There were all these people and other than people who ran the market stalls and the soldiers, I had no idea what they did. But their economy moved along, not at anywhere near the pace of ours. But it did.”

“Sounds like a strange world.” Lucy said as she bit into a her pizza.

“Yeah. But when you think about it, most of the world is like that. Maybe that’s why they hate us. We’re too well organized.”

“Did they really hate us?”

“No. Not really hate, you know. They kind of resented us for being there. They resented that our country was imposing its will on them.”

“Is that what we’re really doing?”

“Yeah it is. Because where we were fighting, it was to put  in a government that was willing to trade with us, over say, China, for the minerals needed to make electric cars. Mostly lithium.”

Lucy stared at him for a while then said. “So you and I, we basically do the same thing. I sell stuff to people and businesses. The military sells protection to countries for favourable trade deals.”

For some reason, Henry found that quite funny. Mostly because it was true. “Yeah, salesmen with big guns and drones.”

After dinner, Henry drove Lucy home and walked her to her door.

“I’d suggest coming in. But I know you want to talk to your dad.” Lucy said. “Why don’t we sit on the steps and wait for him.”

And so they did. And for the next half hour or so, Henry told Lucy all about what it was like to be an American soldier in Africa in the 21st century.

Finally a large black sedan pulled up and the Senator got out. Henry gave Lucy a peck on the cheek and got to his feet. Lucy sat in the dark and watched Henry cross the lawn to greet his dad. It seemed very formal. No more than a warm handshake. They then went into the house. Henry waved goodnight to Lucy on the way in.

~ 5 ~

Tom Feather was tall and on the thin side and in pretty good shape considering all the sitting around he did in his job as the U.S. Senator from Maryland. He was in his late fifties with a powerful presence accentuated by his handsomeness and dark eyes.

Tom disappeared upstairs and came back dressed in much more casual clothing than his blue double-breasted uniform suit.

He sat down at the dining room table where Flora had set out his dinner. 

“You’re not eating, son?” 

“No. Lucy Maxwell  and I went out for dinner, got back about half an hour before you arrived.”

Henry had a glass of red wine in front of him. He poured one for his dad.

“So I guess that leaving the army was a bit of a surprise for you, sir.” Henry said.

“Well…I don’t know. The sniper’s life is not for everyone. Kinda like the politician’s life.”

Tom took a bite of his roast beef and chewed it thoughtfully, then he took a sip of wine. “So why don’t you tell me why you pulled out.”

“Well, sir. As you know, I was not a big fan of being sent to West Point. Although in retrospect, I think you did me a huge favour. No tellin’ what I would have become otherwise. The army taught me a lot too.”

“How so?” Tom asked between bites.

“It taught me to think things through. Not to rush into anything without gettin’ the lay of the land so to speak.”

“That’s interesting. And about a full one eighty from where you were heading before West Point.”

“Yes sir, it is. And I am very happy about it.”

“So I take this to mean you’re gonna be thinking about your going forward direction for a while.”

“Yes sir.”

“Okay, well before you get too far down any particular road, you should know this. I have been asked by the party to consider throwing my hat in the ring and running for President.”

Henry leaned back in his chair. “President of the United States?”

“Yeah. So it looks like we both have some thinking to do about the future.”

“Holy cow, dad. That’s something else.”

“It sure is, son. And right now you’re the only person outside the inner circle of the party who knows it.”

“Not a problem sir. Is there anything I can do, you know, to help you?”

“I’ve been thinkin’ about that ever since they offered me the chance. And your packin’ it with the forces, maybe that was some sort of kismet. Because I’m gonna need someone with your skill set on my team.”

“You want me to work for you?”

“If I take this opportunity, I’d like you to play a major role in my security. God knows you’re qualified.”

“What about the Secret Service?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when and if we come to it. Right now, everything is up in the air. As I understand it, if I were to get the nomination, I would have a small detail to get me through the campaign and the election itself. But at the moment I really have no one when I’m not in DC.”

“Dad, you’ve been a senator for twelve years. I’m having trouble understanding just what it is you’re worried about.”

Tom didn’t say anything for quite some time. Then he said. “There are people who don’t want this to happen, Henry. Some of them are very powerful and very influential, which means they could have some influence over the Secret Service.”

Henry took in what his father was saying and understood that he was being quite serious. 

“You think someone will try and assassinate you to prevent you from running?”

Tom took a deep breath. “I know it sounds paranoid.”

“Dad, you work in the most insane place I can think of and I was in Africa for the better part of my hitch. It was crazy over there but it really was a lot more black and white. Here, at least from what I heard, it’s all shades of grey.”

“That’s a pretty good assessment. Now there’s a lot of bullshit between now and getting the nomination. I don’t even know if I’ll get that far. But I’d really like to keep my ass intact between now and then. And it would start with safeguarding this house. Because if anything weird does happen, it’s way more likely to be either here or later on the campaign trail.”

“I can look into that, no problem. But I need to know something.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re not a paranoid person, I know that about you. Has something happened that’s, you know, triggered this?”

“We all get death threats. It kind of comes with the territory, but you can usually tell the pissed off ones from the real lunatics. Lately, ever since this idea of me running started to make its way around DC, I’ve been getting threats that are much more subtle. Quite out of the ordinary.”

Henry sat back in his chair and looked at his dad. He was definitely shaken by all of this. All his life he had worked hard at being the best state and then federal Senator that he could for Maryland. The thought that someone was threatening him in a way that really got to him was a definite cause for concern.

“Okay, dad. I’ll see what I can do about getting the house failsafed and I’ll get myself a firearm and a carry permit. It should take too long, especially for a handgun.” 

When Tom had finished his dinner, he got up from the table and walked into his office. A few minutes later he came out with a business card and a document in an envelope. 

He sat back down at the table and handed them to Henry. 

“The card is a home protection company that’s owned by a big supporter. The envelope is a letter from me to any gun shop where you buy your pistol. It will expedite your gun and carry permit and excuse you from firearms training. As you can see, I have been thinking about this for a while now.”

“It would seem so.”

“I hate to lay all this on you so soon after your arrival. But you know Washington. No rest for the wicked.”

“It’s alright dad. Saves me a hell of a lot of thinking about what I should do with my life. At least for a while.”

“So you had dinner with young Lucy? You know she asked after you every time we ran into each other. I think she’s a bit sweet on you son.”

Henry just laughed. Because he was sweet on her as well.

~ 6 ~  

Henry and his dad talked for an hour or so and then parted company. His dad, to his office and Henry to his bedroom.

Henry unpacked his MacBook and opened it up. It was already good to go as the kid at the Apple store had given him a full tutorial. All that was left to do was to get himself on line, which he was pretty sure Lucy could help him with, and it would be another chance to see her. He then dug around in his haversack and came up with a small white envelope. Inside it was a memory key that contained his journal, which was made on the computers at the different bases where he was stationed during his tour of duty.

Henry wasn’t a writer, but he was interested in being able to put down whatever was happening. He used some of what he wrote in letters to his dad. The rest he did more to remind himself that he was fighting a war because sometimes it didn’t seem that it was.

He uploaded the Microsoft Word file that he had written his journal on and then cut and pasted it into a new Pages file on his MacBook. He titled it; ‘Henry Feather, Life & Times.’ There were more than 200 separate entries on it. Some a couple of pages, others just a few paragraphs. He didn’t bother to re-read them because he already knew what they said. He scrolled along to make sure that everything got converted.

He went back to the beginning and under the title, he wrote, ‘Part 1: West Point’. He then scrolled down about 40 pages and Typed ‘Part 2: Africa’. Finally, he scrolled to the end, which was some 80 pages later and typed ‘Part 3: Home Again’.

 He put his elbows up on the desk, rested his head on the knuckles of his folded fingers and stared at the page for quite some time. He then leaned back in his chair and for a moment he thought he would just not write anything anymore. It made him tired to look at the screen and think about what he could fill the new pages with. So he rubbed his eyes and then closed the laptop down. He also figured he was quite jet lagged. So he swivelled in his chair and stared at his room. He realized that he was going to have to make some changes to it. 

It was then that Henry finally accepted that he was home. He no longer had people to kill, a big gun to fire and the solitude that was granted to snipers. Suddenly he felt very tired. So he brushed his teeth, laid down on his bed with his Kindle and read a John Sandford story until he could no longer stay awake.

There was no need to rush into anything. And thanks to his dad’s situation he wasn’t really going anywhere just yet. Then he thought about Lucy, as he drifted off to sleep in the bed that now felt too soft and too small for him.

~ 7 ~

The next day was Saturday. He called Lucy to see what she was up to and she told him not much at all. He asked he if she wanted to go into the city and help him buy some new furniture for his room. All she said was ‘When do you want to go?’

On their way into the city, Lucy said. “I’m gonna make this easy for you.”

“Oh, and how are you gonna do that?” Henry asked.

“I’m gonna take you to a place called Design Distillery. It’s one of my clients and the coolest furniture store on the East Coast.”

“OK.”

“And because they’re a client of mine, I have a little clout and can get anything you buy delivered by tomorrow.”

“Wow.”

They walked around the Design Distillery, which was really nothing more than a very stylish-looking warehouse,  for about ten minutes. Henry was blown away with the selection of stuff he saw there. It was all quite modern looking, uber tasteful and expensive. But it all looked to be very high quality. He bought a beautiful work table, a dresser, a corner chair, two side tables, a new queen-sized bed with an ultra-firm mattress and a couple of cool looking lamps. He blew close to $10,000 on it all, even with the 10% discount that Lucy managed to wangle for him after a talk with the owner, a lady named Julie Strong.

Half an hour later they were sitting at a Starbucks down the street from the store. 

“Well that was easy.” Henry said.

“It’s always easy when you know where to go.” Lucy replied.

“I have to do one more thing before we head back.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ll tell you. But you can’t ask me any questions about it.”  

“Ummm, okay. No questions.” 

“I have to buy a gun.”

“Ummm…No questions, right?” Lucy asked.

“I’ll tell you why soon, I promise. But I have a very good reason for doing this.”

“Okay. So where do we go to do that?”

“The place is called Bristol Firearms. On the south side. It won’t take long, because I know exactly what I need. The owner Terry Bristol is a good friend of my dad’s.”

Ten minutes later, they entered what to Lucy was a completely different world. The three walls were covered with weapons of all kinds. Lucy just wandered around, staring in amazement at the massive selection of guns on display.

Henry walked to the main counter where Terry Bristol was sitting reading a gun magazine. 

“Hi Terry.”

Bristol look up at Henry. A little puzzled. 

“Henry Feather.” Henry said.

“Oh my God…yeah. Henry, wow. It’s been forever.”

“Yeah I was overseas fightin’ for Uncle Sam.”

“No shit. Well, glad you made it back in one piece. Lotta guys didn’t.”

“Yeah, I know.” 

“How’s your dad?”

“He’s just fine. Still slavin’ away in the Senate.”

“Well, he’s a good man….So what can I do for you?” 

“I’m interested in a Colt 38 calibre, light weight with some punch. A Colt 38 Super would be nice if you have one.”

“As a matter of fact…” Terry walked down the counter a bit and took out a beautiful charcoal finished Colt and brought it back to where Henry was waiting. 

“This here’s the Colt 1911 38 Super. Great little gun with good stopping power.  If you’re askin’ for it, I guess you know all about it.”

“I was a Marine sniper. It was my pistol of choice over there in Africa. Didn’t use it much, except on the range. So yeah, I know all about it. I’m also gonna need a cleaning kit, a box of rounds, one extra clip and shoulder holster.”

“Sure enough.” Terry said. “If you have your driver's licence I can process your permit and you can walk out  of here with everything in ten minutes.”

Henry pulled out his wallet and extracted his driver’s licence, which he handed to Bristol. 

“Just give me a minute to get this process started. They’re a bit slower on the weekends.”

“That’s alright, Terry. No rush.” Henry said.

Bristol disappeared into the back of the store. Lucy came over to him and looked at the Colt sitting on the counter.

“This was your gun, you know, over there?” she asked.

“One just like it.”

“She picked it up and hefted it. “It’s a lot lighter than it looks.”

“Yeah, that’s why I like it. He’s just processing the gun licence. It shouldn’t be a problem because when they check me out they’ll see I have a lot of experience with weapons.”

“There’s an astonishing number of different guns here.”

“Yeah, it’s a gun-crazy country.”

“Kinda scary when you think about it.” Lucy said.

“Yep, and it’s reflected in the number of people who get killed or injured by them every year.” Henry replied.

“And here you are buying another one.”

“I promise I will explain everything to you just as soon as I can.”

The Colt came in a beautiful carved wooden box that had room for two clips. And a box of 100 loads. The cleaning kit was in its own compartment in the top of the box. Bristol put the box down on the counter, and the shoulder holster, custom-made for the 1911. About twenty-four hundred dollars later they walked out of the store with a legal gun permit, a concealed carry permit and a military exemption from gun training.

It was close to three in the afternoon when they got back to Owings Mills, so they got a couple beers and made some popcorn and settled in to watch the Orioles and the Toronto Blue Jays.

Flora had the weekend off and was visiting he sister down in Richmond. His dad was back in DC dealing with some kind of budget nonsense, so they had the house to themselves.

After the ball game became pretty much a runaway for the Blue Jays, Lucy and Henry went upstairs and started moving all the junky furniture out of Henry’s room to make room for the new stuff that would arrive the next day. The bed was the last thing to go. They dropped the mattress onto the floor along with the sheets, blanket and pillows and took the bed apart. They put everything in the large garage and would call for a special trash pickup on Monday.

They then went back and piled everything else out of the way so the furniture could be brought in and put exactly where it needed to go. After they finished that they both flopped down on the mattress on the floor and laid down side by side. Half an hour or so after that, they were both lying on the bed glistening with sweat and feeling fairly exhausted.

“Wow. You have just made me regret joining the army for four years.”

Lucy just laughed. “Better late than never.” she said.

“Glad I went for the queen-size bed.”

They both laughed about that.

Lucy got up and headed to the bathroom. A few seconds later Henry heard the shower running. He got up and joined her.

~ 8 ~

There was a ton of roast beef left in the fridge so they made sandwiches and took them out on the back deck with some Diet Cokes. It was dark and the sky was fairly clear. What stars they could see were quite beautiful hanging there in the blue black sky.

“Where I was in Africa, on a clear night, you could see millions of stars and planets. Here all we get is a tiny fraction of what’s out there. Maybe we should go there sometime.”

Lucy just chuckled. “You just spent four years over there killing the most badass terrorists on the planet, and you want to take me there?”

“Well, not exactly there. I was thinking more towards Morocco. The only terrorists there are pickpockets.”

“I’ll take a pickpocket over getting shot any day of the week.”

They cleaned up their dishes and Lucy kissed Henry goodnight and left through the back door. It was well after midnight and Henry was beat from all the shopping and sex.” 

He brought his gun package up to his room, loaded a clip and inserted it in the butt of the gun. He moved the pillows around and picked up his Kindle. Fifteen minutes later he was out and slept till eleven the next day. 

As he was getting dressed he heard a loud knock at the front door. There was a good-sized box truck with a big Design Distillery logo on it in the driveway.

Twenty minutes later everything was upstairs, unwrapped and in his room. He gave the guys each ten bucks for lugging his old mattress out to the garage and told them they could have any of his old furniture if they knew someone who could use it. They thanked him and took everything but the mattress.

Half an hour later he had everything organized the way he wanted it and then realized he hadn’t bought any sheets or a blanket for his bed.

He made some breakfast, stashed his gun in the wall safe in his dad’s study and headed out. He was going to ask Lucy if she wanted to come along. But they had already done enough shopping together, so he just got into the Lincoln and headed out.

As he was backing out of the driveway, he noticed a white unmarked van parked along the side of the road about two houses down. At first, he wrote it off as nothing unusual, but on the way down to the mall his situational awareness kicked in and he made a mental note to check out the van if it was still there when he got back home.

Henry bought two sets of dark green sheets and a blanket that kind of complemented the sheets, although he didn’t really know much about things like that. He liked the weight of the blanket more than the colour. He picked up a coffee at Starbucks and drank it while he drove back home. On the way his dad called him from his office in DC.

“How’s it going, son?”

“Gettin’ settled in, sir. Got all my new bedroom furniture. Thinking about painting the room a different colour. It’s gonna need a coat of something once I get rid of all the stuff that’s stuck to the walls.”

“Did you get yourself some protection?”

“Yessir, and Terry Bristol sends his regards.”

“Terry’s a good man. Hell of a shot. Has quite a lot of ribbons and cups to show for it. How’s everything else?”

“Couldn’t be better, sir. I’m adjusting. No down feelings or anything. I guess I have Lucy to thank for that.”

“I can see how that would work. I’ll be home sometime mid-week. Maybe we can head out for some barbecue.”

“Sure thing, dad.”

“It’s good to have you back all in one piece son.”

“Nobody’s happier about that than me, sir.”

“OK, I’ve got to go. The vultures are circling my office.”

They both had a good laugh about that. Henry wondered how his dad managed to stay so upbeat, considering all the bullshit he had to put up with.

As Henry turned onto his street, he noticed that the white van was still sitting three houses down. Instead of turning into the driveway he kept moving along the street. He saw there were two men sitting in the van. They looked to be arguing about something, and didn’t seem to notice him driving by. He couldn’t tell much about them, only that they both had beards and were dark-skinned like Middle Easterners. He made a mental note of the plate number as he drove by. He then went around the block and entered his driveway. He stopped short of the house. He then got out of the car and walked down to the end of the driveway. He stood there for a good thirty seconds staring at the van. Finally it started up, backed up, turned around and moved down the street away from Henry.

“Fuck.” He muttered to himself. 

Henry brought his stuff into the house. In the kitchen he wrote down the plate number for the white van on a pad by the phone. He then unwrapped the sheets and blanket and threw everything into the washing machine.

He made himself a sandwich and after a half hour or so, he called his dad.

“Henry. What’s up?” His dad said in his busy voice.

“I spotted a van with a couple guys in it, parked just down the street facing the house. When I stared them down they took off. But I got their plate number. I need to call a local cop, so I’m looking for a name.

“Jake Willis.” He’s a detective with the Owings Mills department. I’ve known him for a long time. He’ll help you. Hope it’s nothing serious, son.”

“Me too. But better safe than sorry.”

“Damn straight.”

“Thanks, dad.”

“Keep me posted.”

“Will do.”

~ 9 ~ 

Henry got the sheets out of the washer and put them in the dryer. He then called the Owings Mills police department and asked for Detective Willis. A few seconds later Willis picked up.

“Jake Willis” he said.

“Detective Willis, my name Henry Feather. Tom Feather is my father.”

Okay. How is your dad? Still kicking ass down in DC, I assume.”

“Yes sir he is indeed.”

“So what can I do for you, Henry?”

“If you have a few minutes to spare I’d like to come and talk to you about it in person.”

“Sounds serious.”

“Well that’s the thing. Is there a place we could meet a coffee shop or something?”

“Sure, there’s one right across the street. We could sit outside where we won’t be overheard.  I assume you know where we’re located.”

“Yes I do sir. I can be there in twenty minutes.”

“OK see you then.”

Approximately twenty minutes later, Henry sat down at a table outside Java Joe’s across from the police station on Lifebridge Road. He shook hands with Jake Willis who looked to be about forty years old, and very well-dressed for a cop. He was wearing a canvas coloured sports jacket over a striped shirt. No tie. His hair was long and well-cut and his face was handsome although a bit on the chiseled side.

“I wanted to meet you outside any place where we could be overheard for a reason.”

“Okay. Your dad’s a pretty important guy so I can understand that.”

“Well here’s the thing. There’s some heavy-duty political stuff going on with him right now and he kind of felt that it may cause some problems for him, you know personally. He’s asked me to get a gun, which I did, and to talk to a home security specialist about beefing up our alarm system, which I am going to do tomorrow. But, uh, today I kind of noticed something a little odd and I was hoping I could impose on you to check it out.”

“What was odd?”

“It was a van, parked on our street. First of all, everybody has double driveways so any tradespeople or workers would park in the driveway. I noticed it this morning when I went out to pick up some stuff and it was still there when I got back two hours later. On my way back I drove by them. A couple of guys with dark, you know Middle Eastern, skin and beards. When I got home I walked to the end of my driveway and stared at them. About thirty seconds later they split and headed off in the other direction. 

“Hmmm. And you think they’re watching your house?”

“Yes sir. I kinda do. I know it sounds a bit paranoid but I can’t really tell you why I feel this way.”

“Are you a soldier, Henry? ‘Cause you have a kind of military bearing.”

“Used to be, sir. I was a marine sniper, mostly in Central Africa. One tour. Four long years.”

Willis leaned back in his chair. “Well your dad is a big time politician, so I imagine you might be right. You didn’t happen to get a plate number on the van?”

Henry reached into his pocket and pulled out the plate number he slid it across the table to Willis.

“Maryland plate?” 

“Yessir.”

“Okay, well you don’t strike me as the paranoid type. So I’ll check it out. See what we can see. Got a number where you can be reached?”

“Yeah” Henry got out his phone. “I just got back to the States about four days ago.” He fiddled around with his phone then showed it to Willis who had his phone out. “OK. I’m gonna call you right now so you have my cell number.”

Willis punched in Henry’s number on his phone, which rang a few seconds later and registered his number.

Then Willis looked at his watch and got up. Henry got up as well. The two men shook hands.

“I’ll check this out and get back to you ASAP.”

“Thanks for listening.” Henry said.

“Not a problem, Henry.” And with that he was off across the street. Henry sat down and took a sip of his coffee. He was really hoping this would turn out to be a huge nothing burger. He’d had enough of fighting to last him quite a while. But then again, if someone was coming after his dad….

Henry headed home. There was no white van anywhere in sight. So he just folded up his dry sheets and blanket and then went up to his room to make up his bed and think about what to do for dinner.

When he got to his room, he stood in the doorway for a while taking it all in. The walls were all bare and looking kind of scruffy because of all the Scotch Tape marks from the posters he’d had up on the walls. 

He decided that a paint job was in order.

Henry had a virtually unlimited amount of money at his disposal but for some reason he couldn’t see calling a painter to do just one room. He made up his bed then sat down at his desk and looked around the room trying to figure out the best colour to paint it. 

After he had decided, in a general way, he opened up his MacBook, and then his journal. He typed in the date, then sat for a while staring at the screen.

Well, here we are back home in America. And so far so good. I have a girlfriend who lives right next door who is crazy good in bed. I have a dad who’s considering running for President of the United States and I have a job, which will be, for the time being at least, making sure nothing happens to him once this all becomes public knowledge. And here I thought I was gonna be doing a lot of serious goofing off and worrying about finding some kind of fulfilling work to do. Just literally five days ago I was thrilled to death about getting out of Central Africa in one piece, and now here I am full tilt into a whole other dangerous life. How fuckin’ crazy is that?

Henry stopped there. He sat very still and listened to the house. It was an older house and it made all kinds of sounds. He remembered that as a young kid it would sometimes freak him out and he would have to crawl into bed with his folks.

He wasn’t afraid of the noises anymore. But he listened all the same. 

He laid down on his new bed which was really comfortable and closed his eyes. He quickly fell asleep and when he woke it was after dark and he felt quite hungry.

As he walked downstairs to the kitchen he thought he heard a noise coming through the open kitchen window that faced the back of the house. He went to the study, opened the safe. and got out his Colt. He also grabbed the penlight from the top drawer of his dad’s desk, then he headed to the rear door of the house. It was dark as he stepped out and down the steps and walked toward the garage.

There was something or someone there. Behind the garage. He cocked the Colt and slowly moved down the side of the garage. He could hear sounds but he couldn’t quite make out  what they were. When he got to the rear end of the garage. He switched on the penlight. He quickly turned the corner and shone the beam at the source of the noise. 

Two racoons stood frozen in the light. They had been rooting around in a small woodpile. The remnants of an old pear tree that for some reason never got taken to the wood dump.

Henry took a deep breath. and shook his head. “Don’t get paranoid, Henry.” he said as he switched off the penlight and walked back to the house.

Just out of curiosity, he walked down to the end of the driveway and looked both ways on the street. There was nothing there.

As he was walking back up the driveway. He heard a voice behind him. “Don’t shoot me, Henry. Please.” He quickly turned to see Lucy step out of the grove of trees that separated the two houses. She was carrying a bag. “I have Chinese.” she said.

“Well in that case I will definitely not shoot you.”

They walked together down the driveway and into the house.

“Is that gun loaded?”Lucy asked.

“Fuckin’ right it is.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t shoot me.”

“Only ‘cause you have food and I’m kinda hungry.”

He got a good whack on the arm for that crack. 

~ 10 ~ 

The next morning Henry got a call from Jake Willis. 

“I checked out the plate number you gave me. The truck is registered to an A&J Painters, with an address is in the south end. Which makes sense because there are a lot of small business clusters down there.”

“Can you give me the address.” Henry said. “Maybe I’ll take a ride just to see if it’s the real deal. I don’t want to waste valuable police time on something I may just be paranoid about.”

“I will just as long as you promise me you won’t confront anyone.”

“Just want to take a look.”

“OK.” Willis gave him the address. “You let me know if anything looks hinky, you hear?”

“Yes sir, loud and clear.”

Later that morning Henry drove to the address which was in a business mall with about 50 different small businesses. He quickly found the A&J Painters sign in a window of one of the businesses. He parked the Lincoln at the nearest parking spot which was a few doors down. 

He walked to the front door and tried to open in. It was locked. He then looked in the front window and noticed that the place was simply just a lot of empty space. This confirmed his suspicions. He walked back to his car and called Jake Willis.

“Willis.” He said.

“Jake this is Henry. I went to the address you gave me. The place was shut down and empty.”

“OK. I’ll put out an APB on the vehicle. We’ll find it and bring these jokers in for questioning.”

“Thanks”. 

They disconnected and Henry then called his dad in DC. It took a few minutes but he finally got hold of him, He told his dad the whole story.

“I’ll be home later today, I’ll bring some extra protection with me, just in case.”

“Good. I’m gonna head home and wait for Mr. Freeman to come by and talk about beefing up security around the house.

By the time Henry got home, Flora was back from her long weekend off and running around the house doing stuff. Henry sat her down and told her the whole story about what had been happening.

“Do you really think some people are after your father?” Flora asked. 

“I don’t know. But we’re not taking any chances.”

Henry went up to his room and looked at it with the sheets and blanket on his beds and decided that something in a dark green would be nice. 

So he got on line and found a Sherwin-Williams paint store that was not too far away.

Just then Flora shouted out to him that a Mr Freeman had arrived. Henry went downstairs and he and Al Freeman spent the next twenty minutes walking through the house. Freeman explained what was already there in the way of protection, which was already pretty decent. But he proposed adding some strategically placed video cameras which could be hooked up to both his and his father’s computer. They walked around outside and decided on five locations. Freeman told him he had all the equipment in his van and could start right away.

While that was happening, Henry drove down to the Sherwin Williams store and got the paint and equipment he would need to do his room. He found a soothing shade of green that he thought would be good for the walls. He also bought a smaller can of white semi-gloss for his door, window frame and the baseboards. The ceiling was in pretty good shape, so he didn’t need anything for that. Half an hour later he was home. Al Freeman had already installed three of the five cameras. He brought all the painting stuff up to his room and brought his computer down to his father’s office, where they would program them once all the cameras were installed.

Henry’s plan was to start painting the next day. The guy at the paint store advised him to do the semi-gloss sections first and give them a day to dry. The next day he could do the walls and if any paint got on the trim he could just wipe it off with a damp cloth. This would save him a lot of taping because all he would have to do was put down drop sheets on the floor and over the furniture.  

Late that night, Tom Feather arrived and introduced Henry to his Secret Service officer, Phil Watson. Watson wore a dark suit, had short hair and a military bearing.

“Phil here is gonna keep his eye on things till morning.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Henry said. “If you get hungry feel free to raid the kitchen. We have a cook and housekeeper who always cooks too much of everything.”

“Thanks.” Watson said. “ You know I looked you up after I got assigned to the Senator. Your record over in South  Sudan was outstanding.”

“Thanks, I had a great crew.”

Watson chucked. “Still in all more than a hundred registered kills is impressive, crew or no crew.”

“Thanks.”

Tom excused himself and went into his office. Henry showed Watson around the house and introduced him to Flora. Watson checked out all the doors and windows.

“You can use my dad’s office and his computer, we just  had five cameras installed so you can keep your eye on things from there. The front and rear view cams are infra-red.

They went upstairs and looked around. By the time they came back down, Tom was sitting at the kitchen table eating some pasta that Flora had made.

Henry and Watson then went into Tom’s office and opened the big computer. Watson was familiar with the surveillance program and had no trouble dealing with it. In fact, he taught Henry a couple of tricks that Al Freeman had not told him about. 

“So, Henry. Have you thought about what you might want to do going forward?” Watson asked.

“Well, yeah. I’ve been thinking about a lot of things. As you probably know we’re pretty wealthy, so I have the luxury of being able to take my time deciding. Truth be told a lot is gonna depend on what happens with dad. I’m sure you probably already know all about that.”

“Yeah we’re fully briefed. And that’s a big part of why I’m here. Just asking because you might want to give some thought to the Secret Service.”

Henry thought about that for a few seconds and decided to be polite instead of blunt. “Yeah, in fact, I have. But like I said, it’s gonna be wait and see for a while.”

Suddenly they heard the sound of a vehicle screeching to a stop in front of the house. A few seconds later, an explosion blew out the front door and flooded the foyer with smoke.

Phil Watson flopped down behind the computer and caught  a glimpse of a white van peeling away.

He and Henry quickly moved to the back of the house. Watson was on his phone signalling an alert. The kitchen was deserted when they got there. They went out the back door and found Tom and Flora at the far end of the backyard. Flora was trembling, Tom had his arm around her.

“What was it?” Tom asked. “Sounded like a grenade.”

“Not sure, sir. But it blew in the front door and flooded the area with smoke.”

“Shit.” Tom said.

“We have a bomb crew on the way, sir.” Watson said. 

Just then Lucy appeared at the front of the garage and walked down to where everyone was standing. “Is everyone alright? That was a hell of a noise.”

“We’re fine, Henry said taking her up in his arms.”

“What the hell’s going on?” Lucy asked.

Tom looked over at Watson. Then he said. “Lucy, I’ve been asked to run for president, There are obviously some people who aren’t too happy about that.”

“Oh wow.” Lucy said.

“You’re one of the very few civilians who know about this, so I would appreciate it if it didn’t go any farther for now.” Tom said.”

“Of course.” Lucy replied.

Then Henry said to Watson. “This is my girlfriend Lucy. Lucy this is Phil Watson, one of dad’s security people.”

Lucy and Watson just nodded to each other. 

A few minutes later, a pair of uniformed police officers arrived along with Detective Jake Willis.

Henry, Willis and Watson walked away from the group. Henry introduced the two men and then said. “We caught a glimpse of the bombers. It looked pretty much like the same white van I told you about.” Henry said.

“I doubt we’ll find that van again. They’ll probably burn it and get something else.” Willis said.

Watson handed Willis a card. “If you do find it, even if it’s been torched, we’ll send our forensics team. Maybe we can get the serial number and find out where it’s been.”

“That’s a good idea. They must have stashed it after you reported it, Henry. Because we had a full-tilt APB on it.”

“Yeah. They’re smart.” Henry said.

“We’re gonna keep a car in the driveway overnight. And we have someone coming to at least get the door covered if you’re planning to stay.”

“We’re as safe here as we would be anywhere else.” Henry said.

“OK, we’ll get looking for that van.” He turned to Watson and said. “I’ll keep you posted.” Then he turned and walked over to the uniforms, said a couple of things to them and disappeared down the driveway.

Henry and Watson walked back to his dad, Flora and Lucy. Watson talked to them and everybody went back into the house. Henry walked Lucy down the driveway.

“This is really awful.” Lucy said.

“It is what it is.” Henry said. “We’ll get past it. We’ll find these fuckers and hopefully who they’re working for or with and we’ll close that down too.”

“I sure hope so.” Lucy said. “And all this is because your dad is going to run for president?”

“Yeah, he’s very pro-Israel, so he’s not at all popular in the Muslim community.” Henry said.

“Are you gonna be OK?” Lucy asked.

“Yeah. I’m gonna paint my room tomorrow and let the Secret Service do their jobs. We’ll get the door replaced and it will be like nothing ever happened.”

“Thank god, my parents are in New York for the rest of the week. I wouldn’t know how to explain it to them.”

“Well, I’m glad you don’t have to.” Henry said, and kissed her goodnight.

~ 11 ~

The next morning, bright and early, a crew of three workers showed up and, within half a day, tore out what was left of the existing wooden frame and replaced it with a metal frame and a metal door. That afternoon Al Freeman also showed up and replaced the camera over the front door that was blown out in the explosion and re-programmed both Henry’s and his dad’s computer. Phil Watson had been replaced by a guy named Tyler Pervis, who didn’t look all that different than Phil Watson. 

While all this was going on, Henry started the process of painting his room. He piled everything in the middle of the room and covered it over with a drop-sheet then taped down drop sheets so they completely covered the floor. He figured he could get the whole room done in a day. Then he painted the baseboards the window and the door frame.

Around noon his dad appeared in the doorway. “I have a couple of meetings to go to in DC, and I think I’ll stay overnight and talk to some more people tomorrow. I’ve sent Flora to stay with her sister till all this shit calms down. Phil will be back tonight to keep an eye on things. I take it you haven’t heard anything from the cops.”

“Not yet sir. It’s not the world’s biggest police force.”

“Did you go down and look at the door? They did a hell of a job. Looks like nothing happened.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“By the way, I never mentioned this but I really like your new bedroom furniture.”

“You can thank Lucy for that. She put me onto a great place downtown.”

As they headed down the stairs together, Tom chuckled. Then he said. “You stay vigilant, son. I think that might just have been a warning. But I don’t think they’ll attack the house again.”

“Let’s hope not.”

“Alright, see you probably around dinner time tomorrow. I’ll bring home some ribs.”

“Sounds like a plan, sir.”

Tom slapped his son on the shoulder and headed out to the waiting town car.

At the end of the day, Henry had the room completely painted to his satisfaction. He opened the window and put a fan in the open doorway which would help speed the drying. For tonight, he would sleep in the guest room. 

Flora had made some mac and cheese for him before she left for her sister’s. He called Lucy and asked if she’s had
dinner, which she hadn’t. A few minutes later she walked in the back door. He brought a plate of mac and cheese and a Diet Coke into his dad’s study where agent Tyler Pervis was sitting. He thanked Henry but didn’t move from his chair in front of the large computer screen that was watching the house.

After dinner, Henry and Lucy went up to his room, pulled up all the plastic drop sheets and put the room back together again. The smell of the paint still lingered, so they went  down to the basement family room and watched a movie. After it was over, Lucy told him she had a long day ahead of her, so she gave him a nice kiss and left. 

He went over to the study and pulled up a chair beside Tyler Pervis.

“Dad thinks they won’t try another stunt like that here. He figures it was some kind of warning shot.” Henry said.

“Yeah, he’s probably right. He called me earlier and said he’s been in touch with a private sector firm to help find these bastards.” Pervis said. 

“He never told me that?” 

“Yeah, he called me after a meeting with one of the other senators who put him onto these people. They’re called Blue Fin Consulting. They’re located down in Richmond and are sending up a team to work with the local cops and see what they can find out. These people are supposed to be shit hot. Prevented an assassination attempt on President Dodge three years back when she was just starting to campaign.”

“That’s weird. Is Dodge not running again?” 

“That’s what we hear. No reason was ever mentioned
though. But she’s a hundred percent behind your dad.” 

“I’ll have to ask him about that. I thought she’s pretty popular.”

“Yeah she is. This has got us all stumped and they’re all bein’ very quiet about it. Anyway, the Blue Fin team will be arriving in the morning. They’ll definitely want to check things out here.”

“I’ll make sure I’m home. Love to meet them.”

“They already seem to know who you are. One of them is an ex-sniper like yourself.”

“What’s his name?”

“Jackson Lyall.”

“Jackson Lyall…doesn’t ring any bells.”

“Yeah, evidently he had to change his name for fear of any repercussions from his time in Afghanistan. He killed a lot of bad guys there.”

“Oh yeah. I should ask him about that.”

“In addition,” Pervis said,” he’s also a pretty famous photographer. Got world-wide representation and has had three major shows in the last three years.”

“Who’s the other person on the team?”

“Her name is Missy Felder. She ex-Secret Service. Left just  after Trump got elected so the Blue Fin guy, his name is Phillip Ross, ex NSA, he gobbled her up. This Jackson guy does investigations. Puts his sniper brain to good use. They’ll help us figure this out and put it down before all hell breaks loose.”

“OK, I’m gonna grab some shuteye. If you need me just yell. If you get hungry, raid the kitchen.”

“Thanks Henry. Sleep well.”

~ 12 ~

They were sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and doing stuff on their phones when Henry wandered in the next morning. The man got up and introduced himself as Jackson Lyall, and introduced the lady, a beautiful blonde about ten years older than Jackson, as Missy Felder.

Henry got his coffee and sat down with them. 

“So you guys operate out of Richmond?”

“Yeah.” Jackson said. “I just do special projects. Missy here, and Philip Ross, basically run the show. We work under a blanket of protection from pretty high up. So that gives us a little leeway, in terms of, you know, bending the rules.”

“The police found the van you spotted a few nights ago.” Missy said. “It was in the back of a deserted factory over in the west side. The plates were stolen, but they managed to get the serial number of the vehicle, which I have sent to our computer guys in Richmond.”

“So there’s more than just you.”

“Yeah, we have two computer guys who do different things, someone who supplies our munitions when they’re needed and Mr Ross, of course. There are a few more but that’s about all I can tell you.” Missy said.

“Fine by me.” Henry said

“You must have a theory about all of this. From your record, you were a pretty smart soldier. How do you figure it?” Jackson said. 

Henry took a sip of his coffee and said. “My dad is being asked to run for president to succeed Juliette Dodge. He’s pretty well known as a pro-Israeli guy, which, the way I figure it, would piss off every damn one of the lunatic Muslim groups. The two guys I saw in the truck fit the profile to a T.”

“OK. We’re using our computer guys to locate any bad actors in this area.” Jackson said. “Since you saw them, you should come with us when we hit them. You have a gun I assume.

“I do indeed. And coming with you beats the hell out of  sitting around here worrying about my dad.”

They talked some more until the coffees were done. Then Missy’s phone beeped. She wrote something down on her notepad. “We’ve got an address for the owner of the van. We should check it out. Might be a relative or friend of some kind.”

“What about the police or the Secret Service?”

“Yeah, well we have a little more freedom than they do and a hell of a lot less bureaucracy,” Missy said. “Plus, your dad is only allowed a certain amount of government protection.”

The house was located on a street called Tollgate Road and it was not much to look at. The grass needed cutting and the paint was peeling. There was a large garage at the end of a gravel driveway, with an older Chevy rusting beside it. The garage was empty. The house itself looked deserted. A local police car was waiting for them when they got there. Missy had called the Owings Mills police chief and he had sent a detective out to meet them.

The detective, whose name was Gil Prentiss, told them there would be less legal trouble later on if he did the knocking. 

While Prentiss and Missy went to the front door, Henry and Jackson walked up the driveway to the rear of the house. 

Sure enough, as soon as they got there a man opened the back door and jumped off the small porch. He was carrying a large knife and though he was not one of the two men that Henry saw, but he had the same look.

Jackson walked straight up to the man who was now stopped and staring right at them. He grabbed the arm that was holding the knife and twisted it in such a way that the man both dropped the blade and fell to his knees. Henry picked up the knife and backed off. The man started yelling in some foreign language that neither of them could understand.

Gil Prentiss and Missy came down the driveway, Prentiss got out his cuffs and cuffed the man who was still babbling. Prentiss then sat him on the steps and told him to calm down.

The man understood the request.

Missy stepped up to him and hunkered down, so she was at his eye level.

 “What’s your name?” she asked calmly. 

“My name Mustif Mohammed.”

“Well Mustif, we just found a white panel van that belongs to you. The guys who were driving it threw a grenade at a house here in town. Now do you know anything about that?’

Mohammed shook his head.

“Are there other people living in this house with you?”

Mohammed said nothing. But Missy was patient. “Why do you live here Mustif? What is your job?”

“I have no job. I fix this house. Then I sell.”

“So you’re a house flipper. Is that a good business Mustif?”

“I don’t know. This…my first house to fix in America.”

Mustif was a little more relaxed now.

“Do you have helpers…to fix the house?” Missy asked.

“Some time.”

“Where are you from Mustif?”

“Tripoli.”

“Are you Iranian?”

“Yes.”

“Did you come to America with anyone?”

“Yes. Brothers.”

“And where are your brothers now?”

Mustif shook his head. 

“Does that mean you don’t know or you won’t tell me?”

Mustif said nothing. But it was plain to see he was terrified.

Missy walked back to where Jackson and Henry were standing. “I’m pretty sure his brothers are the guys. We’re gonna need a real interpreter. But I think we can get a lot of info out of him. He’s scared shitless. Meanwhile, the cops need to stake this place out. These assholes might come back.”

Missy walked over to the Gil Prentiss. “Lock him up. I’ll try and find an interpreter and we’ll question him further at a police station. Meanwhile, you need to get a couple of people on this house. Down the block. No approach. Just let us know.” Missy gave Prentiss a card with her number on it.

“Okay.” Prentiss said. “There is a private school here with several Arab students. I’ll look it up when I get him taken care of and text you the number.” 

One of the uniforms took Mustif by the arm and led him down the driveway. 

They swept the house and found a couple of semi-automatic pistols, some clips and boxes of rounds and a small box of grenades. They found street maps of the entire Baltimore and Washington areas. It was all hidden away below the sink in the kitchen.

Henry’s house was circled along with a couple of other places. Henry didn’t really know what they could have been. They looked like homes because they were on residential streets further out in the suburbs.

“Looks like these clowns were only getting started.” Missy said.

“They have to have some other wheels.” Jackson said. “Let’s get Damon to check out rental car companies in the area. Also used car dealers and see if they have sold anything for cash to guys with beards.”

Missy nodded and got on the phone to Damon Reese, one of their computer guys, in Richmond.

“Henry hunkered down and looked at the grenade box. There were three missing. “Looks like they’re planning to bomb a couple more places. Sure would like to know where they’re getting their intel?”

“Wouldn’t we all, Missy said. “Let’s get all this crap into the trunk of our car.”

They waited in front of the house until they saw an Owings Mills cruiser pull up down the street. They gave the cops the weapons they had found in the house, then they headed back to Henry’s house to try and figure this all out.

~ 13 ~

Henry made some fresh coffee and got out some croissants and warmed them up as well. 

“I hear you spent your tour as a sniper in Africa.” Jackson said. 

“South Sudan.” Henry replied. “The great bug-infested sauna of Africa. How about you?”

“Mostly in the Afghanistan fiasco.”

“What what your weapon?” Henry asked.

“AI AS50.”

“No shit. Beautiful piece of machinery.” Henry said.

“How about you?”

“Barrett MK-22. Nice gun. Lot lighter than the AI. We were doing much shorter distances, so I didn’t need a rocket launcher.”

“Well, you can’t go wrong with a Barrett.” Jackson said.

Just then Missy’s cell rang. She listened for a moment, with the odd ‘okay’, then wrote down a name and number. ‘Thanks Damon. What about the truck registration?” While she was holding, she said, “Looks like the plate was stolen from a lady named Beatrice Jamison. Seventy-five years old. A little old for this kind of shit.” 

Damon came back on and Missy wrote down another name and location. 

“The last place the truck was registered was at a used car place called B & E Auto Sales.”

“I know where that is.” Henry said.

“Good.” Missy said and looked at her watch. Then her  phone beeped and she looked at the text message from Gil Prentiss. She got to her feet and dialled a number Damon had given her, then walked down the hall and talked quietly. 

“So, how long were you in?” Henry asked. “Just did the one tour myself.”

“Two tours. Three years in Africa and the Middle East. Four years in Afghanistan.”

“Kills?” Henry asked.

Jackson shrugged. “One hundred and five recorded, and a few hit and runs. How about you?”

“Ninety three recorded, probably a dozen more here and there.”

“Not too shabby for one tour.”

“Yeah. My dad was kinda hoping I would stay with it. Work my way up the ranks, all that good shit. But it wasn’t my cup of tea.”

“I know where you’re coming from, Henry. When I was gone, I was gone for good.”

“I hear you’re a big time art photographer. I looked you up when I heard you guys were comin’.”

“Yeah, I start taking pictures with a little shitbox Minolta over in Kabul. When I got back here, I met a girl, a designer who told me my thing was art photography.” Jackson chuckled. “I didn’t even know what art photography was. But she showed me. Now we’ve got world-wide representation, had three successful shows and I even got the girl. Been married for comin up on two years, now.”

“Wow.” Henry said. “I just hope I can fall into something like that. My girl’s a designer, so who the hell knows.”

“Keep your eyes and your options open, Henry. You’ll do fine. From what I know about your dad, you‘ve got enough money to buy a small country. Maybe think of putting it to some good use. Real estate investing or something like that. Make your own job.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking about a lot of things, but right now, it’s all about keeping my dad in one piece. He’s all the family I really have.”

Missy came back to the kitchen. She took a sip of her
coffee. “She’s a teacher, so we can’t get her till school is out later this afternoon. Maybe we should go check out that car dealer and a couple of those circles on the map we found. Who knows, we might get lucky.”

Henry took them toward Baltimore. Located on the outskirts of Owings Mills, B & E Auto Sales was nothing more than a shabby-looking trailer and a lot with about two dozen cars and vans on it. A man was sitting in a lawn chair reading a book in front of the trailer. He looked to be in his fifties and was pretty much as shabby as the rest of the place. 

He got to his feet when they got out of Jackson’s car. Missy did all the talking while Jackson and Henry leaned against the car with their arms crossed.

The man got to his feet as Missy approached.

“Welcome to B & E, ma’am. I’m Barney Ebersol.”

Missy shook hands with Ebersol. “Missy Felder. Mr. Ebersol. We’re looking for some information on box van you sold recently, to a couple of Middle Eastern-looking guys.”

“Yeah I remember those guys. Their English was remarkably bad. Came here on foot as far as I could tell. Paid cash. Lot of larger bills. Like thousands.”

“Did they show you any identification.”

“Naa. They told me to register the sale in the name of a Mustif Mohammad. I figured that was his name.”

“Isn’t it illegal to sell a car without to someone without seeing at least their driver’s license?”

“It is for new cars. But as you can see from my lot. There’s nothing new here. I buy them from Police impounds.”

“But you’d remember these guys if you saw them again?”

“Yeah, they looked like fuckin’ terrorists.”

“So that didn’t raise any red flags?”

“Miz Felder. I’m in the low-end used vehicle business. Not the red flag business. Anybody who shows up here looking for a vehicle is a drug dealer or worse, either way, you just  don’t ask questions. That can be hazardous to your health.”

Missy stared at him for a moment, then handed him a card. “Just to let you know, they abandoned that van and set it on fire, so if they should show up here again looking to buy another junker, I’d appreciate it if you call me. These are really bad dudes.”

Ebersol took the card and looked at it. “Falcon Wing. What the hell is that?”

“You don’t need to know that Mr. Ebersol.” 

With that Missy turned around and walked away. When she got to the car, and everybody was inside, she said. “That was a nothing burger. But those guys might come back here.”

The two places that were circled on the map were both suburban houses.

Jackson took over the driving while Missy sat in the back seat. They drove by and noted the addresses, which Missy texted to Damon Reese in Richmond.

Talia Morgan, the translator, was waiting for them on a bench in front of the Police station, when they arrived. Missy introduced herself and Jackson and Henry.

Talia Morgan was dark and beautiful. She told them she was from Iran but came to the US as a child when her mother married an American named Jonas Morgan and Jonas adopted her. They lived in Baltimore. Her mother was a translator which is where she got her interest in languages and she studied them at The American University, and finally became a teacher of languages at a private school in Owings Mills, 

They entered the police station. One of the officers retrieved Mustif from his cell and brought him to an interview room where Talia and Missy were waiting. Talia said something to him in Farsi that seemed to put him at ease.

Talia had been quickly briefed by Missy while they waited for Mustif to arrive. She was a very bright woman and the interview lasted only ten minutes.

During that time they all found out that Mustif and his two brothers, Hakim and Ali, arrived in the US with fake passports. Hakim and Ali were soldiers of Islam. Mustif wanted nothing to do with politics, terrorism or anything like that. He just wanted to refurbish houses which had been his job in Iran. He was a skilled carpenter and builder. His brothers were jihadists on a mission to America. He did not know what their objective was, and he didn’t want to know. He also didn’t know that his brothers had registered the van they purchased from B & E Auto Sales in his name. 

This was beginning to look like another dead end, until Talia asked Mustif if he knew anyone else in Richmond. He gave them three names. He had met them at the local mosque and they seemed to know his brothers. He wasn’t friendly with them, because they appeared to hold the same beliefs as Hakim and Ali.

Talia asked a few more questions and then declared that Mustif had no more to tell them. 

Missy asked Talia to tell Mustif that he was being held on suspicion of terrorism and that he would be held until his brothers could be found and testify for him. So if he knows where they might be, he should tell them now. 

After Talia told him, Mustif immediately broke down and cried. He looked at Talia and Missy and it was obvious that he had no idea where they were.

After Mustif was taken back to his cell, Missy thanked Talia very much for the help she had given them.

“I will keep an eye out for any suspicious activity at school. I have several Muslim children in my classes.”

When Talia was gone, Missy sat back down as Jackson and Henry joined her. She texted the names Mustif had given them to Damon.

“Well that was a full day’s work.” Missy said then she looked at Henry. “Why don’t we go get your girl and we’ll all head out for dinner?”

“Good idea.” Henry said.

~ 14 ~

Lucy was blown away at being in the car with Jackson Lyall, who was one of the new superstars of people photography. Jackson did his best to be humble. But after a while he was explaining his approach to Lucy and pointing out to her that it all he did was provide the raw material and that it was his partner/wife/art director, Marlena, who did the work of turning it all into art.

Two hours later, they came back to Henry’s house. Missy told Henry that she and Jackson were going to check out the two suburban locations one more time. Five minutes later they were gone. Jackson walked Lucy home because it was a work night. 

“You know some interesting people.” Lucy said.

When Henry got back, Jake Willis was just packing up to head out. 

“We’re giving this over to the Owings Mills PD. There will be a car down the street until the Blue Fin people get back. My personal thinking is that if these guys are after your dad, he’s a lot safer in DC for the time being. And you’ll be safe with the Blue Fin people. They’re heavy duty.”

Just then a car pulled up to the front of the house. Jake shook hands with Henry and headed out the front door, which Henry locked. He then activated the alarm system, and settled down at his dad’s desk to watch a movie on his MacBook.

Just as the movie was starting, his dad called.  

“How are things going, son?”

“We’ve made some progress. We know who we’re after. We just don’t know if it’s bigger than two guys or what. The Blue Fin people are out checking out some stuff. But they’ll be back in a while and they can use the guest room and my room. They’re really good people dad.”

“Yeah well, Phillip Ross is one smart cookie. Used to be Deputy Director of the NSA, but then quit and formed this Blue Fin consulting group.”

“So what is Blue Fin, exactly?” 

“Nobody really knows except for Rolland Winters. He’s a Senator from Virginia and really the only person I know who has direct access to Phillip Ross. So your guess is as good as mine.”

“So what’s your guess?”

“I’d say they were a very high-end black bag group.”

“What the heck is that?”

“They’re people the government uses to do stuff that they don’t want to be seen as doing themselves. I believe Rolland Winters set the whole thing up with Ross about eight years ago now.”

“They seem to have a lot of capability. The two people they sent…one’s an ex-sniper. The other one is some sort of ex FBI and Secret Service agent. They also have some pretty high-end computer people. But she runs the show. Even your Secret Service guys take orders from her.” Henry said.

“I’m just glad you’re in good hands. Keep me posted. I’m on my cell at a safe house. I don’t want to be makin’ any announcements, or do anything in public until we have these assholes behind bars.”

“I don’t blame you. Have you decided anything yet. About going for the job?”

“Well. I’ll be honest. It all depends on what happens with these jokers who blew up our front door.”

“I understand.”

“Is the house back in shape?”

“Yes sir, everything is fine.”

“Good, then, hopefully, I’ll be heading back home in an hour or two, The beds in these safe houses are not conducive to a good night’s sleep.” 

~15 ~ 

A hour later. Jackson and Missy returned to the house. She didn’t say much about it except that the houses looked pretty shabby.

 Missy made some tea and they all sat at the dining room table.

“We’ve got one thing left.” Missy said. “I got Mustif’s phone number from his cell phone and texted it to Damon. He put a tracer on it.”

“Yeah, but if Mustif isn’t answering his phone, what good is that?” Henry asked.

“Damon will get the number they called from and get us a location within a hundred square yards.” Missy said. “Damon’s not your average hacker. He’s about the best I’ve ever seen. Builds his own tech and has capabilities way beyond the government. It’s part of the reason the government uses us.”

“Yeah, Damon’s about the smartest tech guy I’ve ever come across. Saved my ass a couple of times.” Jackson said, as he took a sip of his tea and decided it wasn’t for him. “I’m gonna go up and call Marlena.”

“My dad is on his way back so, Jackson, the guest room  the first one you come to. Mine’s the next one and Missy, you can have that, I’ll sleep on the pull-out couch in the basement.”

“Well, thank you Henry.” Jackson said as he headed up the stairs.

Henry and Missy talked for about fifteen minutes. Missy told him all about her background and how she ended up at Blue Fin. She also told him about Jackson, who married Phillip Ross’s daughter and that he will only do recon work for the group. She didn’t elaborate any further, because she really didn’t know Henry, only that he was the son of a Senator, a sniper like Jackson, and was probably going to marry the girl next door.

A few moments after Missy went down to the study to keep her eye on the cameras, Henry’s father called and told him he was about fifteen minutes away. Henry went the study and got his gun out of the safe. He sat down across the desk from Missy. 

“My dad’s on his way, about fifteen minutes out.”

“Okay. Listen. Go Upstairs and get Jackson. Your dad is gonna be vulnerable as soon as he gets out of the car.”

A few minutes later, Jackson and Henry were positioned at the end of the driveway down toward the road in between Jackson’s car and the hedge row. Missy was inside watching the street-facing camera. As it panned. she could see all the way down to the corner where the police cruiser was sitting. 

Henry’s dad’s town car came up the street and turned into the driveway. Ted Feather opened the back door to get out. 

Just then a grey van passed by the house moving away from the police car.

Get back in the car, sir!” Jackson shouted.

Ted Feather jumped back into the car and slammed the door shut just as a barrage of machine pistol fire peppered the  rear end of the car. Fortunately, the whole car was bulletproof and the bullets just disintegrated. Both Henry and Jackson fired at the grey van which had slowed down to allow the shooter to do his job. They put several holes in the side of the van and shot out one of the tail lights as it sped away.

The van was moving away from the police stakeout so the cops were a little slow in giving pursuit. The van headed down toward the 795. But by the time the police got to the corner the van had disappeared. All they could do was put out an All Points Bulletin.

When they were sure that the van was gone, Henry opened the back door of the town car and his dad got out. Henry introduced Jackson and the three men walked to the house.

Inside, Henry introduced his dad to Missy.

“Well, that was a close call.” Ted Feather said. 

“Yes sir, it was.” Missy replied. “But we’ve got a couple of probable addresses where these guys might be staying. We’re gonna let them get comfortable thinking they got away clean and tomorrow we’ll hit them.”

“Well I’m certainly glad you made me stay in the car. Saved my ass back there.”

“That’s why we’re here, sir.” Jackson said.

They all went into the kitchen where Flora had made a large pot of tea. Missy explained the whole situation to Ted Feather, and told him she believed that the intel their guy had gathered on line indicated that this was just two guys and not part of some terrorist group.

They talked for a while and then Missy and Jackson decided on a schedule. Missy went upstairs to rest for four hours and then she would relieve Jackson.

At close to six AM the following morning, Damon Reece’s computer intercepted a call from Ali Mohammed to his brother Mustif’s phone.  He realized this at about nine am that morning. And that Ali had tried several times, the last two from the same general area.

After he listened to the message that Ali left on the phone, he immediately called Missy and let her know that he was tracking the phone. It was currently in an area of suburban Baltimore called Woodlawn. 

Missy woke up both Henry and Jackson and within ten minutes they were on the road. Missy was looking at the location area that Damon had sent her. It appeared to be some sort of restaurant or coffee shop.

They drove slowly past the place which was called Freddie's. There was a grey panel van parked at the side of the building. They noticed the bullet holes and the shot out tail light.

“So, how do we play this?” Missy said.

They all thought about it as Jackson turned the car around on a side street and parked at the end where they could clearly see the restaurant and the van they were sure belonged to the Mohammeds.

“You have his number.” Henry said. “Why don’t you call him. Tell him you know where he is and are on the way. That would probably spook them enough to make a run for it. Then we follow them. See where they go and who they know.”

Jackson turned around and smiled at Henry. “That’s not too shabby there, kiddo.” Then he turned to Missy who was already dialling the number. 

“Hello.”

“Hello is this Hakim or Ali?”

“Who is this?” Ali said 

“I’m calling to let you know your brother Mustif is in jail right now, and that most of your guns, other weapons and maps have been confiscated. The only option you have is to turn yourselves in. Just tell me your location and we’ll send officers to bring you in peacefully.”

Just then, the call disconnected. Thirty seconds later, the two men came out of the restaurant and got in the grey van. They quickly pulled out onto the street and headed south. When they got to Security Blvd, they turned right and eventually got onto Highway 695 and continued south and east to Highway 70 where got off at the first exit. They drove into a subdivision and eventually pulled into the driveway of an older-looking house, with two cars parked in front of it. They drove the van into a garage, got out and closed the garage door. They then entered the house by what they assumed was the back door.

“Bingo.” Missy said as they cruised by. She picked up her phone and called Damon. “Yeah, we tracked them to the house at the corner of Greenway Drive and Michael’s Way. Yeah, looks like a hive. Call the Baltimore Swat team and get them out here. We’ll keep an eye on things till they get there. If they don’t listen to you, call Phillip.”

~ 16 ~

They sat in the car and waited patiently for a good half hour. Finally two vans pulled up behind them and an officer in full riot gear got out and knocked on the window beside Missy.

“Missy Felder?”

“Yeah. That’s me.”

“Captain David Keele. Could you please identify the house in question.” 

Missy pointed at the house.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“There are at least two people in there we want to talk to, so it would be great if you could do this with as little damage as possible. But I’m pretty sure they have weapons, probably UZIs.”

“We’ll be careful as hell anyway, ma’am. But it all depends on them. Thanks for the tip.  And  by the way, you have friends in very high places.”

“It’s a blessing and a curse, Captain.”

“I’m sure it is ma’am.”
 

They watched as the squad of well-armed and well-protected cops surrounded the house and simultaneously broke the front and back doors down. There was not a single shot fired and in a matter of minutes several people were marched out of the house and into an oversized van. Another car pulled up and two other men in riot gear got out. They opened the trunk of their car and put on protective gear and helmets with face masks. They entered the house and three or four minutes later came out and signalled an all clear. 

As soon as that happened another car pulled up and two men in suits got out and walked through the house with one of the SWAT team.

Captain Keele came back to Jackson’s car. “We’ll be taking them to the Owings Mills station for now. It will take an hour or two to get them processed then you can interview them. Hopefully we can get to the bottom of this rather quickly.”

“Thanks Captain. You guys work very well together.”

“They’re good men every one, ma’am.”

Missy rolled up the window as Captain Keele departed. “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. Let’s go get some breakfast while we wait. Maybe go back to the restaurant where we found them and check that out.”

“Good idea.” Jackson said, starting the car.

The restaurant turned out to be a nothing special. Missy talked to the waitress and she told her that the two Middle Eastern guys had been in several times before. They both spoke fairly bad English and particularly liked hamburgers and fries. So they took a booth, had their lunch and waited to hear from David Keele that the prisoners had been processed. 

When he called, he told Missy they had released everybody except the Mohammed brothers and another man named Ezra Doyle, obviously not his real name, because he looked as Iranian as the two brothers. He swore up and down that he knew nothing about what the brothers were up to but let them sleep in a small apartment in the basement of his house until they found their own place. He had grown up with the brothers in Tripoli, where they were all from. 

An hour and a half later, Missy and Jackson were sitting in an interrogation room as Hakim and Ali Mohammed were led in and seated across from them. Missy had a pretty good idea that they would not want to communicate directly with her, she let Jackson do the talking.  

“So,” Jackson said, you are from Tripoli. That’s a beautiful city. What brings you over here?”

The brothers stared at Jackson for while. Then finally Ali said. “You are a soldier.”

“I was. In another life, a long time ago.” Jackson said.

“Then you will understand.”

“I won’t understand anything unless you explain it to me first.”

“There is a soldier, like you. A sniper. He was in Sudan.”

“Okay. What does that have to do with anything?”

“This sniper, he killed many people in Sudan. One of those people was our father.”

“Well if this sniper killed your father, what does that have to do with the Senator whose house you attacked.”

“An eye for an eye. We discover who this sniper is. Once we know that, we discover where he lives. We find out he lives in his father’s house…”

“So were you trying to kill the Senator because his son had killed your father? What the hell was your father doing in Sudan?”

“He was doctor. He was taking care of wounded and one morning, very early, his camp was raided and he was killed by the sniper. We are merely seeking the revenge that is rightfully ours to seek.”

Jackson shook his head and chuckled a bit. “That may work over in your part of the world, Ali, but here it’s called a conspiracy to commit murder, and since you have so fucking graciously confessed, I’m afraid you will be going away for a long time.”

 “Your father had to know the risk he was taking.” Missy said.

The two brothers said nothing. 

“So, when you blew out the door, you were planning to enter the house and kill the father.” Jackson said.

“Yes. But the son and the another man were both armed. So we left.”

“In other words, you blew your holy mission out your asses.” Jackson said.

They said nothing, but glared at Jackson.

“What about your friend, Ezra?” Jackson said.

“Ezra is American citizen. He knew nothing of our plans. He is old friend from Tripoli who offered us a place to stay. He is innocent.” 

“And your brother, Mustif?”

“Mustif knew everything. But he refused to take part.”

“We found close to a dozen grenades and two very big pistols at the house he was renovating.” Jackson said.

“We hide them there.” Ali said. “Mustif never knew about them. We hide them carefully, and were planning to move them. He is innocent.”

“That’s gonna be up to a judge to decide, I’m afraid,” Missy said.

And with that, they got up and left the room as the two brothers were led away. They sat down in the viewing room with Henry.

“So they were after retribution for you killing their father.” Jackson said. 

“War is hell.” Henry said. “Between the two of us, Jackson, we may have inadvertently killed any number of civilians. You know how it works. And you know what could happen if you don’t clear the area.”

“It’s the shitty part of the job for sure.” Jackson replied.

“At least you can tell your dad that this is all over.”

Missy talked briefly with Jake Willis. She gave him a card and told him they’d be happy to testify if necessary.

They drove back to Henry’s house and packed up their gear. It was mid-afternoon and they were just having a cup of coffee for the road, when Tom Feather and a Secret Service officer walked in.

“Thank you for wrapping this up so quickly.” Tom Feather said. “And please, give my regards to Phil Ross. I remember him well from his days with the NSA. Smart cookie.”

They all shook hands and Henry walked them out to their car. 

On the way Missy said. “If you ever get interested in counterintelligence work, give me a call. I’ll set up a meeting for you.” And she handed him a card,

“I’ll take it under advisement, ma’am.” Henry said. “And thanks for all your help on this.”

“Not a problem.” Jackson said as they shook hands and Missy gave him a hug. 

And off they went, leaving Henry something to think about for sure.

~ 17 ~

All three Mohammed brothers were found guilty of attempted murder of a US Senator and a whole raft of other crimes, which netted each of them forty years with no chance of parole, despite weak protests from the Iranian government.

Henry became more involved with his dad’s personal security, at least for the time being. 

Tom Feather didn’t end up running for president after all. As it got close to decision time for the party, Juliette Dodge changed her mind and decided she would seek a second term in office. When his dad told Henry that, in truth, he admitted that it was actually kind of a relief.

One day, about a week after that, while his dad was in DC, Henry went to visit Lucy at her office in Baltimore. He was blown away with the stuff he saw on her corkboard. He looked at almost everything, and thought about it for a couple weeks after that.

One night he asked Lucy what she was working on and she started to tell him. That led to a conversation about ideas which, in turn, led Henry into a line of thinking that he had never bothered to explore.

An hour later, they had worked out three different ideas that Lucy thought were outstanding, and that she would present them to her client. If he liked them, she would talk to her dad about hiring Henry as a writer, because, as it turned out, Henry Feather was a natural at it. 

Henry didn’t need the money so volunteered to work for a hundred dollars a week on apart time trial basis. If they were happy with his work after six months, they could propose a salary for him.

PART 2

(EIGHT MONTHS LATER)

~ 18 ~

Henry was lying on his bed looking up at the ceiling in his bedroom, in the house he shared with his father, a US Senator from Maryland, and their housekeeper Flora Neeley. 

He had been back home for eight months from four years as a sniper in the US Army and, for the last few months had been working with his girlfriend and next-door neighbour Lucy Maxwell, as a writer and Lucy’s creative partner in the Baltimore-based marketing company that Lucy’s father owned. 

It was a Saturday afternoon. His father was downstairs in his study reading over a bunch of legislation which was going to be voted on when he went back to Washington. 

Henry was thinking about a lady named Missy Felder, who  had made a suggestion to him a while ago. 

Missy Felder was one of the key people in a group called Blu Fin Consulting which was the hidden hammer of the US Democratic party. They did assassinations, bombings, and other assorted acts of disruption, all designed to keep the Democrats in power in Washington.

Henry didn’t know all that at the time. He just saw Missy and Jackson as very capable people who were there, as a favor from another Senator, to help him find the lunatics who were trying to kill his father.

Before they left to go back to Richmond, Virginia where they lived, Missy extended an open invitation for Henry to come and find out more about the Blue Fin group and see if there was a way he could put his skills to work for them. Henry thanked Missy very much and filed the invitation away in the back of his brain. He then, quite by accident really, began to start working as a writer with his girlfriend, Lucy Maxwell. 

But the long and short of it was that the office work he had to do was interesting at first, then after only a few months, it began to make him feel quite claustrophobic. This, in turn, led him to explain to Lucy that he didn’t feel he was cut out for the work he was doing, which led him back to thinking about the open invitation that Missy Felder had extended to him. 

Missy’s business card was lying on his chest as he lay in his bed and stared up at the ceiling.

Over the course of the next half-hour he made up his mind to call her first thing on Monday.

Having made that decision, he got up and went downstairs to talk to his dad and then headed over to Lucy’s house to watch a playoff NBA game on TV.

~ 19 ~

The following Tuesday, Henry drove down to the address he was given in downtown Richmond, which was about a three-and-a-half-hour drive. Across the street from a low rise office building was a coffee shop, which he entered. There were only two people in the shop at the time, they were sitting at a table together. 

Henry got a coffee and walked over to the table. 

“Mr. Tuttle?” he said to the older man, who extended his hand which Henry shook. 

“Just Tuttle, son.” 

“Henry Feather.” Henry replied. 

The man next to Tuttle was casually dressed with long hair and a beard. He extended his hand and said “Damon Reese.”

Henry shook Damon’s hand and then sat down.

“Missy tells us you might be interested in joining the Blue Fin team.” Tuttle said.

“Interested is the operative word, sir.” Henry said.

Damon Reese reached down into his bag and pulled out an iPad. He played with it for a few seconds then flipped it around to Henry. He also set a digital pen down beside it.

“This is a non-disclosure agreement. Read it over and if you agree with it, sign it at the bottom.” Reese said. “Then we can talk freely.”

Henry read the non-disclosure thoroughly and didn’t see anything objectionable in it. But it was definitely iron-clad. So he picked up the pen and signed and dated it on Reese’s iPad, then gave it back to him.

“Okay,” Tuttle, said. “We’re good to go. What do you need to know?”

“Well, first of all I would like to understand what this Blue Fin Consulting group is.”

“Well, it’s a lot of things.” Tuttle said. “Mostly a problem solving organization with clients in both the private and public sectors. It’s run by a man named Phillip Ross, who is ex-NSA and his lady, Missy Felder, who I believe you already know.”

“So, problem solving. What’s that all about?”

“Well, it’s a range of things. Mr. Ross handles the private sector work separately, which is mostly orchestrating mergers and acquisitions and partnership agreements and dissolutions. The rest of us handle the government work.”

“Which is?” Henry asked.

“Whatever needs to be done that the government doesn’t want their fingerprints on.” Tuttle said.

“So I would assume that this involves killing or Ms. Felder wouldn’t have asked me to consider joining.”

Tuttle nodded. “Yep.”

“How is the group structured?”

“Well, there’s Mr Ross, who you will meet if you’re interested in joining. He does all the planning and is the government interface. Ms Felder, who is ex-FBI and Secret Service, does scouting and works with the shooter on the mission. There’s Jackson Lyle, who you’ve also met. He started off as a shooter, then pulled back after one long mission. Jackson does mostly investigative work in his spare time, but has become a well-known photographer, with worldwide representation, which you probably already also knew. He married to Mr Ross’s daughter, Marlena. Then there’s myself. I provide the munitions, all untraceable. I own a gun range just outside of town. Finally, there’s Damon Reese here and his partner, William Ling. Damon is in charge of all communications with a bit of hacking on the side. William is a genius financial hacker. You will also have a specially designed Jeep to drive with a hidden compartment to carry your weapon that’s so far proven to be quite foolproof.”  

“Wow, that’s quite an assortment of skills.”

“Indeed,” Tuttle said. “At the moment, we’re in need of a sniper. Nothing in particular at this point, but you never know what’s around the next bend. Missy and Jackson were impressed with you when they went up to help you with the Iranian assholes who were after your dad. They thought you might make a good addition to the team. That’s about it.”

Henry sipped his coffee and then said. “You know I spent the last few months working with my girlfriend as a writer in her dad’s marketing company. But that got old after a lot sooner than I thought it would. I was definitely not cut out for office life.”

“You’re not the first sniper we’ve had that didn’t have a similar sort of story,” Reese said. “It’s claustrophobic as hell.”

“Yeah, it kind of is.”

“What about security? I mean you’re talking about pretty illegal stuff here.” Henry asked.

“Well, as long as the Dems are in power and depending on the project, we mostly have immunity, which means we are taken off any suspect lists we happen to end up on. So far no one has ever been arrested. There has been one particular FBI guy who had a special interest in us. But he’s had the riot act read to him by our Washington contact, and has pretty much backed off.” Reese said.

“So basically this group is an assassination squad.” Henry said.

“For the most part. We also take Republican donor money out of the picture, and quite a bit of it, truth be told, thanks to Damon and William.”

“How much, if I may ask.”

Damon looked at Tuttle. “Low to mid billions.”

“Shit. What do you do with it?”

“Nothing. It just sits in Nassau earning interest.” Reese replied. “It’s our retirement fund.”

Henry leaned back in his seat and took another sip of his coffee. He was thinking hard. Then he said. “What kind of money can I expect to make?” 

“Jackson will put you through the paces. But if you’re as good as he thinks you might be, probably a million per major  hit. Half a million for any necessary collateral hits. That’s been the going rate since we started.”

“So you’ve had other shooters.”

“Yeah. Four counting Jackson.” Tuttle said.

“And what happened to them?”

“Well one blew himself up. Completely unrelated to us. Jackson, of course. The third was good but very young and not a really good fit for us. He had no combat experience and I think that was the main difference. And the forth is on extended assignment in the Ukraine”

“So it’s a high turnover job.” Henry said.

“Its a high pressure job. What you do with the opportunity is completely up to you.” Tuttle said in a voice that was a little more emphatic than conversational.

“Okay.” Henry said. “I’m not gonna say yes or no today. I want to think this through. It’s Tuesday. So I’ll give you an answer before the end of the week.”

Tuttle just smiled. “I was hoping you would say that.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I’ve always been leery about people who make up their minds too quickly.”

“Well it’s a big decision?” Henry said. “Will you expect me to move here?”

“Only if you want to. We have a house just a little ways south from here. It’s yours to use if you want to. We all live in Richmond.”

“Okay.”

“And just make sure you don’t talk to anyone else about this, other than your dad if you choose to. He already sort of knows who we are.”

“Roger that. But I don't think I’ll be talkin’ to him about this.”

With that, Henry got to his feet, shook hands with both men and left the coffee shop.”

Tuttle and Damon sat back down. 

“What do you think?” Damon asked. 

“I think he could be a slightly younger version of Jackson.” Tuttle replied. He then picked up his phone and called Phillip Ross. “We’ll know by Friday. But he looks good so far.” Tuttle said.

~ 20 ~

All the way back home and for the next two days, Henry thought a lot about what he was getting into. He knew he had the mental capability and the skills to do the job. He also knew what a political mess the country could be in if the last president every got re-elected. So it was probably a job that needed doing.  And that if he could contribute to helping out the current government, which he knew to be much better than the alternative, that would definitely be a good thing.

The only thing he worried about was getting into a situation with the law where, he might have to kill someone who wasn’t the real enemy. That kind of bothered him. But as he thought it through it bothered him less and less. 

Did that mean he was psychotic? His shooting instructor at West Point told him that there was a touch of the psychopath in everyone, but that snipers had maybe just a little bit more. He accepted that. He also accepted that the everyday world had made him feel bored and uncomfortable. Maybe he could get over that, but for what? Contentment, acceptance of the status quo, a normal life? He had no idea what a normal life was like. And on top of that, he had no desire to find out.

By the time he pulled into his driveway, he had already made up his mind and was thinking about what he would take with him when he headed to Richmond.

He had decided not to tell his dad about the offer that was on the table for fear his dad would try and talk him out of it. 

So two mornings later,  he called the number Tuttle had given him.

“Tuttle here.”

“Good morning Tuttle, this is Henry.”

“Morning Henry.”

“So here’s the thing. I’m not prepared to move to Richmond just yet.”

“That’s OK. The house and the car are there for you to use when we need you. Depending on the project it may take four or five days, or even a week between events. So you can either stay there or at home, whatever suits you.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“I’m gonna get hold of Mr. Ross and we’ll set up a meeting.” Tuttle said.

“Fine with me, sir.”

“Welcome aboard, son. I’ll text you the address, the time  and the passcode for the safe house lock, just so you have it.” 

“Thanks, I’ll wait to hear from you.”

Henry disconnected and leaned back in his chair. His computer was open in front of him. He had been working for the past few weeks on a biography of sorts. But he figured he would not be able to write about any of this activity.

The text came through within half an hour. The time was set for Saturday afternoon. It would be at Mr. Ross’s house, the address of which was included with the text.

~ 21 ~

Henry was raised in a wealthy household by a father who was very rich before he got into politics, so the magnitude of Phillip Ross’s house on the north side of Richmond wasn’t
intimidating to him at all. There were five cars parked in the driveway with plenty of room for a couple more. It was a beautiful day and he assumed everyone would be outside, so he walked around to the back of the house. Sure enough, they were all sitting there. There was Tuttle, Jackson, Missy, Damon Reese and an oriental-looking man he had never seen and another older man, whom he assumed was Phillip Ross. When Tuttle spotted him, he got to his feet. 

“Come on in, son.” He said. “I assume you know now everyone here, except Mr. Ross and I guess young William Ling.” 

William just nodded and raised a hand to say hello.

Ross walked forward and shook Henry’s hand. “Phillip Ross. Good to meet you, Henry.”

“Thank you sir. Quite a gathering you’ve got here.”

“Come and have a seat. There’s some beer in the cooler if you like.”

Henry walked to the cooler which was on a smaller side table and took a beer. He went back to the table and greeted Missy and Jackson Lyall.”

Jackson got to his feet and shook Henry’s hand. “Good to see you you again, Henry.” he said. 

“Same here.” Henry replied.

Henry sat down and took a swig of his beer. “He looked a

“You know, Henry,” Missy said. “I was just thinking about you the other day, wondering if you’d lost interest or not.”

“Believe it or not I went to work in my girlfriend’s marketing company. That lasted all of about four months before I started feeling claustrophobic as hell. So here I am loaded for bear, so to speak.”

“Well, this is all of us including our computer guys.” Ross said. “So if you have any more questions, this is the chance for you to ask them. You’re non-disclosured up, so everything you hear will be the unvarnished truth.”

“My question is for you, sir.” Henry said to Ross. “I’m curious about how you ended up doing this.”

“Well. I was in the intelligence service, NSA to be precise for about twenty years.” Ross said. “Then about eight years ago I was approached by a senior Democratic Senator. He sat me down and told me that he was leery of the direction the Republican party was taking. He saw a lot of trouble on the horizon. Then he talked about having a project group that could, more or less balances the scales.

“The idea appealed to me. The money appealed to me as well, so I put in my papers and retired from the NSA and formed this group. It took about two years to come together completely. At first, it was just Tuttle and myself. Tuttle found us our first shooter, who worked with us for two years, before literally blowing himself up, not related to what he was doing for us. Tuttle then recruited Damon Reese, whom you have met and Damon recruited William Ling who specialized in financial hacking. I heard about Missy a few days after she left the Secret Service about five years ago now. Then Tuttle found Jackson. After Jackson, he found another shooter. But he was very young and had no military experience. He did a great job, but he wasn’t built for the game.  And now Missy and Jackson have found you. We had another shooter lined up, but he was from Ukraine and left the US to fight for his country. That’s the long and short of it.”

“Okay well, that’s all I needed to know.” Henry said.

‘So what about you, Henry?” Ross asked.

 “I’ve been back for almost a year now and I couldn’t help but notice how pronounced the division is in the country. I mean I left about a year before President Dodge was elected, and I spent three and a half years in north and central Africa so I can spot a political mess a mile off. If the stuff this group does can help, even just a little, to clean things up, then I’m all for it.”

“Well, that’s wonderful Henry.” Ross said. “And the timing couldn’t have been better. Because just this morning I got a call from my contact in DC. We’re getting together tomorrow and he’s going to brief me on a new project.”

“Did he give you any idea what it would be about? Or is that a stupid question?” Henry asked.

“No, it’s a good question.” But we never talk specifics on the phone. You can never tell who’s listening. He basically just invited me over for brunch, which is one of our codes, and it’s also brunch.”

“So how quickly does a project start after you’ve been briefed.” Henry asked.

“Depends on the project.” Ross said. “But if it’s not an emergency, I like to take a few days with Missy and plan things out. The rule is not to rush if you don’t have to. That way you keep all your bases covered everybody out of harm’s way.”

“I get it.” 

“Good.” Ross said. “I understand you want to keep living at home until you get a better feel for things. But the little house is always available to you. Also before each mission, Damon Reese gives us all special cell phones that are disconnected from any network, so we can all talk freely.” Damon reached into his bag and pulled out several older black flip phones and chargers and handed one to everybody.

“Just tap the names of whoever you want to talk to, and it will connect you.’ Damon said. “It’s sat-based, so distance is not an issue. It’s a closed-circuit network…not exactly legal, but then neither is the work we do.”

“Okay. That’s clever.” Henry said. “Oh yeah, I did have one more question. Tuttle told me there’s some FBI guy who’s very suspicious. What the deal with him?”

Phillip Ross took a deep breath.”Yeah, his name is Hollis Keene. He’s based in Atlanta. Not exactly sure how he honed in on us. But he did and it was a bit of a hassle for a while. But the FBI, you know, like any law enforcement group, needs evidence and we simply don’t leave any.”

“The hardware you will use has had the numbers burned off and the bullets are all hand-made and built to disintegrate after contact. It’s pretty simple, but 100% effective.” Tuttle said.

For the next hour Jackson and Henry told war stories and then it was time for Henry to hit the road.

~ 22 ~

Three days later, Henry was back in Richmond with his car, a new Lexus, filled with clothing, his computer, and a couple of lamps. He had decided that the four-hour drive back to Richmond from home wasn’t worth the time and took and the gas it wasted. 

He found the house down south of West Broad Street, and spent the next half hour emptying his car. There was a fairly new Jeep parked in the driveway. The keys for it were on a hook in the kitchen near the backdoor.

After he had everything in the house, he walked around and had a look at it. The furniture was all pretty cozy but rather old looking. But the bed in the master bedroom was comfortable and the kitchen was fully equipped. 

He was making a shortlist of what he wanted to pick up food-wise when his closed-circuit phone rang. It was Jackson.

“Hey Jackson.”

“So you decided to move down after all.” Jackson said.

“Yeah, it very quickly got to be a lot of driving.”

“Let me take you out to dinner. Do you like ribs?”

“Who doesn’t like ribs?”

“OK there’s a place on West Broad called Rudy’s. Best ribs in the state. I‘ll meet you there in an hour.”

“Okay.”

“How do you like the house?”

“It’s umm, quaint.”

“That’s a good word for it. I’ll see you in an hour. Just drive up to West Broad and turn right, it’s about three blocks along.”

“Roger that.”

They disconnected and Henry spent half an hour putting his stuff away and finishing his grocery list. Then he grabbed a quick shower and headed off to meet up with Jackson.

Jackson was already there, sitting at a table with his laptop opened and a bottle of Coors Light beside him. The restaurant was about half full. It had a short bar with four stools at the back by the kitchen. Off to the side was an area with video games and a pool table. Henry noticed that most of the people eating looked to be a lot older than him. He shook hands with Jackson and sat down. A few seconds later a good-looking woman showed up at the table.

“Josie, this is Henry. Henry this is Josie.”

“You want a beer there, Henry?” Josie said.

“You read my mind, ma’am.”

“Josie just smiled. “You soldiers are all so polite.” And she scooted off after dropping menus on the table before she left.

“The ribs here are the best. But everything else is damn good too.” Jackson said as he pointed to the bar. “The older guy behind the bar, that’s Rudy. Vietnam vet  and all round good guy.”

“Sounds like I don’t need to know anything more about where to eat around here.” Henry said.

“First meal I had when I got here a few years back was right here. We haven’t been anywhere else since.”

“So where are you from, you know, originally?”

“Louisiana, small town you never heard of.”

“So what brought you here?”

I did two tours - Afghanistan and Middle East then decided that was enough. So believe it or not, I threw a dart over my shoulder at a map of the US and it stuck here.”

“For real?”

“Yessirree. Best move I ever made. Met my wife here and she got me into the photo art business big time.”

“Tuttle said you only did one mission for the group.?”

“Yeah, it had five parts and that fuckin’ FBI guy was on us. How he figured it out, I’ll have no idea.”

“And now you’re married to Mr Ross’s daughter.” Henry said.

“Yep. And happier than a pig in slop.”

Just then Josie came back to the table and put down Henry’s beer. 

“We’ll both be havin’ the ribs Josie.”

“You got it Jackson.” Josie said.

While they were waiting, Jackson took Henry up to the bar and introduced him to Rudy.

“Good to meet you son.” Rudy said.

“Same here sir.”

“Army or marines?” Rudy asked

“Army sir, had my own little sniper squad in Africa.”

“Africa?”

“Yeah, it was a terrorist shooting gallery.”

“I’ll bet.” Rudy said.

“Henry’s gonna be around for a while on and off, so this ain’t the last you’ll see of him.”

“No sir, it’s not. I’ve been told these are the world’s best ribs.”

“Well, you got that right.” Rudy said. He then held out his hand as he saw Josie walking by with their orders. “Good to meet you son.”

Henry shook hands with Rudy then they went back to their table and dug in.

They talked for about half an hour or so while they were eating. Jackson only gave him one bit of advice. “Never forget, anybody you’re shooting at, they are the scum of the earth. Sad to say there’s no shortage here in the US.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.”

“You do they and it will be very good for your mental health.”

~ 23 ~

The next day Jackson came by and he and Henry, driving the Jeep headed out to Tuttle’s gun range. They stopped and picked up some cantaloupes along the way. They backed the Jeep up to the rear door and went inside. 

Sitting on the table was a beautiful Accuracy International AX150. A 50 calibre long gun, with a silencer attached. Beside it were 6 five-shot clips, four of which were marked with an X.

Tuttle was out front with a customer. So Jackson said, “The gun you were using in Africa was a lot lighter than this baby. But it’s very well balanced and doesn’t kick anywhere near as much as you think it might just looking at it. Pick it up.”

Henry picked the gun up and pointed it at the side wall of the building. It had a beautiful Zeiss scope. He could feel the weight of it but also the balance made it feel lighter when he was holding it in a firing position.

“This is deadly accurate up to about 1200 yards.’ Jackson said. “Which is how you’ll be getting away clean. No bad guy the planet has security out that far. And the best part of all is that nobody walks away from gettin’ hit by one of these rounds. They’ll either check out instantly or bleed out quickly. So you’ve got a whole body to shoot at.”

Henry had done a lot of arm and upper body work in school, in the army and at home, so the gun actually didn’t feel all that heavy to him. it was just longer but so beautifully balanced, he figured he’d get used to it pretty quickly.

“It’s a beautiful piece of hardware.”

 “It most certainly is.”

“Easy to clean?”

“Oh yeah. Il show you all that once we’ve blown away some melons.”

Jackson went out and talked to Tuttle for a second then came back. 

He grabbed the x-marked clips and the gun. They stashed it all in the back compartment, in between half a dozen small sandbags that would keep the gun from sliding around. They drove out to the highway and up about three miles and then turned off. After about 30 seconds, they came to a long straight stretch of road. 

They stopped and set up three tripods with the melons taped to the tops, then drove back, about 1000 yards, according to Jackson’s range finder. 

Jackson turned the Jeep sideways and fastened the bi-pod to the gun. Using the hood of the Jeep with the bi-pod extended allowed Henry to stand fairly straight. They spent the next fifteen minutes or so shooting at the melons. Jackson was pleasantly surprised at just how quickly Henry figured out the gun and was able to demolish the melons within two cartridges worth of shooting.

“And you’ve never used a fifty cal before?” Jackson asked.

“Oh, I’d remember that for sure. What a beautiful weapon.”

“Served me well as I’m sure it will you.” Jackson. “We’ll go back to Tuttle’s and get her cleaned up, then you’ll be good to go, whenever that is.”

They headed back to the gun range. Jackson showed Henry how to clean the gun. While they were gone Tuttle had gotten out the FNX pistol with three loaded clips and a box of bullets as well as a cleaning kit and a small box of mercury/magnesium tipped rounds for the rifle  They then put everything into the gun compartment in the back of the Jeep and went back inside.

They sat down with Tuttle at a table in the front of the shop. There were half a dozen or so people shooting but the building they were in was almost completely soundproof.

“You can tell Mr. Ross that we are good to go,” Jackson said. 

“Will do.” Tuttle said. And then he looked at Henry. “And you my friend, need to open an offshore account. I don’t care where, just as long as you give me the deposit code. I will be transferring your money into it. We don’t deal in cash and we try and keep away from anything in the US. Too many nosey people hangin’ around.”

“Believe it or not, I actually know how to do that. ‘Cause I was thinking the same thing.”

“Jackson, thanks for your help, again.” Tuttle said.

“My pleasure Tut. It’s the least I can do.”

“You’ve done way more than your share. The president owes you her life. I’d say that was above and beyond.”

“Wait. Was that the thing that happened in Boston?” Henry asked.

Jackson nodded.

“I read about that. Never saw a mention of your name.”

“Good.”

“Good? That kinda makes you a national hero.”

“Yeah and also kinda paints a big bullseye on your back. Sometimes heroics aren’t all they’re cracked up to be, Henry.”

Henry thought about that for a bit. “Yeah, I guess you’re right about that.”

Jackson nodded. Then got up. “Okay. That’s it, Tut. Let’s go Henry. The tutorial is done. See you soon.”

“I’ll get that banking stuff together ASAP.” Henry said to Tuttle.

“Just text me the number on your closed circuit phone.” Tuttle said. 

“Will do.”

Forty-five minutes later, Jackson was shaking hands with Henry and hopping into his own car, leaving Henry with a big gun in the back of his Jeep and a job to do just as soon as the logistics were figured out.

~ 24 ~

Senator Rolland Winters was sitting at his desk in his study in his big house on the south side of Richmond, when his wife, Millie, showed Phillip Ross in. 

The Senator got up and the two men shook hands warmly. Winters then walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured out two tumblers of Glenfiddich for them. 

“So how are things working out these days, Phil?” Winters asked.

“A lot of small projects, a few big ones. The usual I suppose. Damocles is back at full strength personnel-wise. And it’s always nice to hear from you, sir. ”

“Yeah. Well this one is a doozy.”

“Do tell.”

Winters sat down behind his desk and Ross took a seat  directly across from him. They clinked their glasses and took sips of their scotch.”

“There’s a guy. Filthy rich industrialist. Elmore Bishop. Has a lot of government contracts.”

“There are a few of those, aren’t there?”

“Yeah, but this guy, he’s a little different. Wants to use his influence to get control of the Republican party. And with balance of seats in the senate a little too close for comfort and with the pair of turncoats we have on our side, it’s gettin’ tougher and tougher to keep things moving in a positive direction.”

“So are we talking about a Trifecta?”

“Maybe, but I think that taking out the uber-rich shit disturber will bring damn near everything in line and we can get back to business as usual.”

Winters pushed a thin file folder over Ross’s side of the big desk.

“This Bishop, he’s got his fingers in a lot of pies, so in addition to being a pest in DC he does a lot of running around putting out fires in his organization. Since he is an asshole with more money than brains, there are always a lot of fires to be put out.”

Ross flipped through the file. He knew a fair bit about this guy, because he was all over the news. A real egomaniac. It would be a genuine public service to take him out.”

“Is he paranoid at all, meaning does he have a lot of protection?”

“No. Like most gazillionaires, he feels kind of invincible. He travels with one guy. An old friend who also happens to be an ex-soldier in his home country’s army. Racist as they come because his main job was killing black insurrectionists. No, the tricky part is that he jumps around a lot. His main protection is that he doesn’t disclose his schedule.”

“But he must have a home somewhere.”

“Yeah, it’s all in the file, and that’s probably the best place to nail him. But it’s gonna require the patience of Job to wait him out.”

“If that’s what it takes.” Ross said.

“He’s gotten next to the new Republican candidate, and with the election only a year off, he’s already starting to throw money around to build this guy’s persona.”

“Does he have a constituency? The last guy had a bunch of fucked up rednecks and a huge assortment of other disgruntled a-holes.”

“He’s hoping to pick up all of them. He’s cut from the same cloth and Lord knows if you make enough promises to these idiots, they’ll get behind him.”

“Does he have a shot at the job? Ross asked.

“I don’t think so, but what he does have a shot at is
re-unifying the Republicans in DC and that’s the big concern. But take away Bishop’s big-time funding and and his constant nosiness in DC and it will take the Republicans that much longer to rebuild.”

“So what about your turncoats?”

“I’m not sure what to do about them. All depends on how it goes with the money. Long and short is that if we take this guy out of the picture, we slow down the whole process on the Republican side of things. As you know they’re having real funding challenges, But this Bishop, he’s just pouring his bucks into the candidate. It would be nice to pick up a couple of seats in both houses, which we figure we can do if the propaganda is dialled down.”

They talked for another twenty minutes or so. Winters was delighted to hear that Marlena was pregnant and that her husband was building himself a strong international reputation in the photography business.  

Winters, who was about ten years older than Ross, had one son: an ex-air force fighter pilot, who was currently in Israel training their fighter pilots, and helping to keep the Middle East from blowing up into a Russia/Ukraine situation. 

“Some days, you know, Phil. I wake up and feel like the world is just about ready to crack into a million pieces.”

“I know what you mean, Senator.”

“You’re one of the guys with the glue gun. Let’s use it to get rid of this big money threat and we’ll all feel a little better about things.”

“Budget?”

“Five million for the big kahuna. Another five for the turncoats, if it comes to that.”

“Fair enough.” Ross got to his feet and picked up the file with him. “I’ll keep you posted Rolland.”

“Go get’em Phil.”

Ross left the house after taking the time to give Millie Winters a hug.

~ 25 ~

 

Very few people on the planet knew the location of Bishop’s central Texas retreat, and all of them were generously bribed into secrecy. The way Senator Winters found out about it was through the initiative of one of the Senate Pages who had, quite by accident, overheard Bishop talking about it to the Congressman the Republicans were putting up for the presidential nomination.

He quietly and discreetly passed the information along to Winters, because he hated the Republicans as much as anyone in the political sphere with any common sense. Winters rewarded the Page by pulling the strings to have him promoted to a more prestigious position, for which the Page, a young man named Charlie Obermann, was eternally grateful. 

Winters then sent his newly minted legislative assistant out to Dulles airport to photograph Bishop’s private jet, which the grateful Charlie was only too happy to do.

After Phillip Ross’s meeting with Senator Winters, Ross went back to his house and sat down to figure out the things he would need to know about Bishop to be able to somehow track him. 

As he looked though the file, it became obvious that it had occurred to the Senator that while Bishop was very secretive about his comings and goings, one of the things he could not control was the aviation regulation that required Bishop’s pilot to file flight plans. This flight history would give Missy and Henry a better fix on when to head down to Texas.

The meeting was mid-morning three days later. Everyone was on hand. When they were all seated around the table in the backyard and Damon had scanned the area to make sure it was clean, Ross handed out folders containing all the pertinent information.

“Okay, this project is in two parts. The first part is a definite, the second may just be for Damon and William to start with. We’ll see how that plays out.

“On the first page of your file you’ll see a picture of a man you will recognize. He needs to be gone and the sooner the better, because he is already influencing political decision making and we can only assume that he’s just getting started.

“We thought we put the fear of God into a lot of the big time Republican supporters after we took out the last billionaire. But some people obviously didn’t get the message.

“The thing with this guy is that he’s kind of elusive. He’s involved with so many different things that it’s hard to track his movements. What we now know for sure, thanks to Damon’s hacking expertise with the US postal service is that he has a house just north of Beaumont Texas. It’s actually not a very big house for a guy with his kind of wealth, but it is on its own 14 acre estate, and kind of isolated, which is good for us. And we also, thanks to Damon have a very fairy good idea of when he will be at this location.

Damon chuckled. Everybody looked at him. “I can’t take all the credit.” he said. “Whoever had the presence of mind to go and photograph his jet made my job dead easy, because the FAA network has more holes in it than a spaghetti strainer. I can track his movements, even map his flight history and we can figure out his pattern if there is one. Then, a couple days before he’s due to land near Beaumont, you guys can head out and get set up.”

“So we’re good to go on that front. He also has a pool there and we know he swims for exercise. What we don’t know is what level of protection the guy has when he’s at home. So we have to check that out ahead of time, which will mean a day or two of surveillance for Henry and Missy.”

He then turned to Henry. “This is going to test your
patience more than anything, Henry. It may take a couple of days. And you have to be prepared for both a day or night shot.”

“Roger that, sir.”

“Missy. You need to check out motels in the area. Don’t want you guys staying in the same place for two nights running.”

Missy just nodded.

Then Ross turned to Damon Reese and William Ling. “Damon, after we get the flight schedule you need to hack his emails, evidently he sends a lot of texts as well, see if you can give Missy and Henry any more timing details. William, I need you to see if you can get into one of his off-shore accounts and if you can, move as much money as possible. This will piss him off and throw him off balance. It will also tire him out and maybe get him to head home to relax. So that’s it for job one.”

Finally Ross turned to Jackson and Tuttle. “When you both have time, I’d like you two to scope out these two turncoat Dems. Their DC addresses are in your deck. Go through their places in DC and see what you can find that we can use against them. I’m not crazy about doing politicians. I’d much rather find out what’s being used to coerce them into siding with the Republicans. This is a good time because Congress is in recess and they’ll both be back in their home states.”

“William, if Jackson and Tuttle find any banking info, I need you to check it out for large regular deposits, If you see them, take the money.”

William just nodded.

“Okay.” Jackson said. “What happens if they show up?”

“Well, I guess you’ll have to take them out. Let’s just hope that doesn’t happen.”

“Roger that.” Jackson said. “I’ve got some time over the next couple of weeks.”

“I’ll close up the range for a week or so. It’s a little hot for shooting anyway.” Tuttle said. 

“Good. Then we’re all set. Just be safe out there. If you feel the walls closing in, even a little, get the hell out. We can always come back another time.”

After the meeting broke up. Missy came over to sit with Henry. 

“Okay, so, we’re going to Texas so you need to get yourself  some Texas duds. Your jeans are fine, but you’ll probably need a couple of denim shirts and a hat. I’ll go shopping with you, if you like.”

“That would be great.”

“Good. So let’s go.”

“Lead the way Missy.”

Missy kissed Ross on the cheek. “We’re gonna go get Henry outfitted for the Lone Star State.”

“Okay. I’m gonna go into the office for a bit and clean up some stuff.”

“I’ll see you at dinner.” Missy said.

Missy and Henry took off together. On their way to the mall, Missy filled him in on how things would work.
 “We’ll do one day of surveillance. That should be all we need. On the second day we’re gonna find a place, where you can wait comfortably, and I can be no more than a couple hundred yards away in the Jeep. When you’re done, you pick up your ejected shell casings and hightail it back to the truck. The back hatch will be open and you can just lay the gun in and close everything up. We can be out of there in thirty seconds. The best thing about the fifty-cal gun is that it unless you hit absolute dead-centre mass, it will blow the victim sideways and anybody who is close by will have a hard time figuring exactly which direction the shot came from. Most people would assume that it came from the direction where the body landed but even if they’re off by even 10 degrees, that’s a huge time advantage for us.”

“Wow, you’ve got this down to a science, Missy.”

“Yeah, well, you kinda pick this up as you go. Jackson and I figured out a lot of stuff on our excursions”

“I have to admit, I’m a little nervous.” Henry said.

“A little nervous is a good thing. Keeps you thinking. And this is a thinking man’s game.”

~ 26 ~

The billionaire in question, Elmore Bishop, owned a number of military and private sector equipment manufacturing companies, many of which did business with the government. He also owned a ton of blue-chip stocks. Being a hustler and a go-getter, he quickly realized that everything in America could be bought with enough money. Politicians, other businesses, fanatical loyalty, even outstanding female companionship.

Bishop lived primarily on his plane, a refurbished 727, mainly because he spent a lot of time going from one business to another putting out fires, replacing burned-out executives and looking for new businesses to buy. 

He was rumoured to be the richest man in America, with an estimated worth in the area of $400 billion. Lately, he had attached himself to the current frontrunner in the race for the Republican presidential nomination and was propping up his campaign with millions of dollars. This gave him inside access and more influence in the political system than any private citizen had a right to. 

Bishop’s bricks-and-mortar home was a relatively modest estate in the woodlands north and a bit east of Beaumont, Texas. His estate was about 14 acres, which consisted of a stylishly modern house with windows all around and a ring of evergreens tightly spaced around the borders of his property. This had been done about fifteen years earlier and the trees had grown into a dense prickly wall. Around the inside of the tree-line he had installed a four foot high electric fence that packed a whopping 100,000 volt charge to anyone coming into contact with it. So he felt relatively safe, not so much from assassination but from anyone in the press who might want to do some sort of tacky ‘lifestyles of the rich and famous’ type photography. 

He had no enemies that he knew of because while he may have been as avaricious as a latter day Ebenezer Scrooge, his business dealings were all cordial, generous and above board. But once he took over a business, he then started to read the riot act to everyone and suddenly the businesses went from whatever they were to a modern-day slave ships, because beneath his cordial exterior, Bishop was a monster. But Bishop was a true elitist and would never in a million years bring himself to believe that any of his ‘worker bees’ as he called them, would plot to do him harm. 

Bishop’s only protection came in the form of an ex-army captain named Trevor Mason, who had been friends with Bishop for most of his life. Mason’s family were quite a bit less well off than Bishop’s, but because Bishop liked having his friend and protector around, Bishop persuaded his father to pay for Mason’s tuition to the private school he went to. After his military duty Mason rejoined Bishop on his climb to the top of the business world as friend, protector and sometimes advisor. The two men shared the same cynical world view and were determined to grapple with and hold onto as much power as they possibly could.

Bishop was very close to sixty and the years of flying and fighting and debating and no small amount of drinking and womanizing were beginning to take their toll on him as he found himself in in progressively greater need of days off, which hadn’t been the case up until he hit his fifties.

He had kept himself fit through a lot of walking instead of riding in limos or taking elevators and when he was home, he swam fifty or sixty lengths of his pool a couple times a day. He ate sensibly and as a result was quite trim, which was a real advantage because he had pretty much all his energy at his disposal whenever he needed it. 

Over the last few years, Bishop had become interested in US politics. At first, it was basically to influence policies that made sure his companies were paying the very least amount of tax possible.  But when he realized how dumb most politicians and voters were, his interest had grown into an obsession with controlling the government by getting next to and lavishing support on the presumptive frontrunner for the Republican party. 

Over the years, his ego had grown to the point where he really believed himself to have the makings of a kingmaker. And the most malleable politicians all seemed to be Republicans, so that was where he staked his claim.  

As far and away the largest donor the Republicans had, he soon found himself in a position to influence legislation, which is what he did. His belief was that the government was spending an excessive amount of tax dollars on programs to prop up people with no real ambition, not to mention the masses of immigrants that flowed into the country from the south. So he started advocating shifting those dollars into defence spending and border protection which is where the bulk of his businesses resided.

This very quickly became a problem for the Democrats. Interference at this level by rich private citizens was unheard of in modern-day America. But from the looks of things, it seemed that it was being welcomed by the Republican candidate, likely in return for the millions that were going into his campaign budget. And it was precisely that which caused Senator Winters to reach out to the Blue Fin Group for help.

~ 27 ~

It only took Damon Reese about twenty minutes to find and download the flight paths of Bishop’s plane for the past two years. Once he had it, he texted the file to Phillip Ross who studied it carefully. 

Ross’s NSA background came in very handy when trying to figure out puzzles. Starting at the point two years earlier, he slowly scanned down the list, visualizing the flight of Bishop’s plane from place to place. Just past the beginning of the second year, he began to see the pattern plus a definite increase in the frequency of his stays at his home base in Texas. Mostly they were after trips from Washington. Ross could understand that. Politicians had always tired him out as well.

Perhaps Bishop had simply become more adept at dealing with his companies online and by phone and therefore felt less need to be on site. Or perhaps his age was catching up with him. That and a lot of sleeping in spurts on planes and constant travel. It didn’t really matter much what the reason was, the good news was that he was now staying home for around three to five days, every time his plane took him there. 

He called Damon and they talked about it for a bit. Damon had been studying the flight patterns as well and estimated that there was an eight to ten-day flurry of activity between the three to five-day home periods. So they both concluded that somewhere around the sixth or seventh day of activity Missy and Henry could head down and find themselves a setup. The good thing was that the only other activity at the house was that once a week more or less, someone would come and cut the lawn in the seven acres around the house. Damon had picked up that activity quite accidentally from a trip to Google Earth. 

 They left it that Missy and Henry would get on the road when he thought it would be about three days before Bishop’s arrival. That would give them two days to get down there and another two days to find the ideal location to execute the kill. 

Before Ross disconnected with Damon Reese, he asked about how William Ling was making out. Damon replied that it was a bit of a challenge, but that William had many tricks up his sleeve and he felt optimistic.

As fate would have it, two hours later William found the right doorway to one of Bishop’s largest hidden accounts. Damon immediately called Ross. Ross told them to keep it under their hat until Missy and Henry were set up and then pull the plug. William figured he could syphon off all of the fourteen plus billion that was in the account. And the timing would hopefully have him at home and pissed off.

After Ross disconnected, he leaned back in his chair and reflected on just how much of this highly educated guesswork was supposition.

Two days later Damon called Missy in the late afternoon and told her and Henry take off for Texas the next morning. He texted Missy a map of exactly where Bishop’s property was located. 

So off they went, around mid-morning of the following day. They drove straight through to Nashville, had a great steak dinner and shared a motel room. They were careful to keep Henry as invisible as possible to the motel clerk. 

The next day, around four in the afternoon they arrived in Beaumont. Missy checked them into another motel, then they went had some dinner. Afterward, they took a drive out east of the city and came to the road that led into Bishop’s estate. 

They drove past and turned up a side road that ran along the north wall of the property. They could see nothing of the house itself because the evergreens were so dense that Henry would have to be right up against them to be able to see through. Missy turned at the next crossroad, which was which was nothing more than a one-lane dirt track that ran east along the property line. She stopped a few hundred yards in and Henry got out and made his way through the woods to the evergreens. He had his scope with a built-in rangefinder with him and through the branches he was able to see the entire rear end of the house. There was a slightly elevated deck that was shaded with an artsy-looking green canvas awning. In front of that was the pool, which looked to be rectangular and fairly large, with some lounge chairs along one side. There was no diving board, just a railing in the corner closest to the deck, which Henry assumed were where the steps to the pool were located. He assessed the field of vision as excellent and the distance, about 620 yards, which was ideal. He also noticed that both Bishop and Trevor Mason were sitting on the deck, drinking beer. Mason was reading a book while Bishop stared into his computer. 

Henry shuffled along the evergreens to get a slightly better angle and then called Missy. “I think this is the spot. I’m coming back to the Jeep right now so pop the hatch and time me … go.

Henry walked quickly but carefully back to the car, slipped the scope into the compartment, pushed it closed and covered it then shut the hatch and got into the car. 

Forty-seven seconds give or take. That’s pretty good.” Missy said.

“They were there, by the way.” Henry said.

“They were? That’s weird.” 

“They must have skipped a stop on their usual route.”

“Looks like.” Missy said. And she dropped the car into gear. It took her a little less than a minute to get to the main road. They headed back to town, watched some TV and then turned in. Missy called Ross and told her they were good to go. They agreed on doing it in the morning which would give them a lot of daylight to put between themselves and the shoot site.

The next morning they were up early. They skipped breakfast, which they decided would be brunch or lunch on the road in Louisiana.

It was a warm muggy day, but mosquito season had passed so the woods were relatively bug-free and dense enough to be a little cooler. Henry assembled the gun fastening the silencer and the site and loading the clip. He put another clip in his bag then closed the hatch and walked into the woods. He chatted to Missy while he walked.

“Let’s hope they swim together, I could take them both dead on.”

“Take’em both anyway you can, Henry.”

“Roger that.”

Henry found the tree he had marked the day before.

He gently laid his rifle onto a fairly thick branch that was about shoulder-high. He took a bottle of water out of the shoulder bag he was carrying and took a long slug.

“Did Mr Ross tell you how much money William had been able to get out of his account?” 

“Un huh. A little over fourteen billion.”

“Wow.”

“Wow is right.”

About an hour later, Henry saw through his sight that there was some activity in the back room of the house which he assumed was the kitchen. It went on for a few minutes. 

Suddenly, Bishop, holding a cell phone and dressed in a pair of swimming trunks, slammed out onto the deck. Henry could hear him screaming from where he was.

“Oh oh. I think he just found out about the money.” Henry said.

He jacked a bullet into the chamber of his rifle.

On the deck, Bishop threw the phone down on the table. Henry could hear it clatter as it broke. Then Mason walked out the door. Bishop had his back to Henry. Mason grabbed Bishop to try and calm him down. 

It was at that exact moment that Henry took the shot. Three quarters of a second later, both men slammed into the sliding screen and went down in a heap.

Henry was stunned. 

“Henry are you there? Are you there?”

“Yeah, sorry Missy. I kinda freaked myself out.”

“Is it done?”

“Yeah. I got them both with one bullet.”

“Missy chuckled. “Okay then. Pick up your shell and get your ass back here.”

Henry snapped out of it quickly. He found the casing and dropped it into his shoulder bag, then trotted on back to the Jeep. He removed the warm silencer with a rag, then stashed the gun and silencer, closed up the compartment and then Missy shut the rear gate of the Jeep from inside. Henry got in and they took off.

Once they were clear and on the highway heading toward Louisiana, Missy said. “You look pretty dazed, my friend.”

“Yeah. well how often do you get a perfect twofer.”

“So how did that come about?” 

“Well, Bishop came out on the deck with a cell phone. He was screamin’ at somebody.”

“Probably his Barbados banker.” Missy said.

“Yeah. Then he slammed the phone into the table and the other guy…”

“Mason.”

“Yeah. He came out and grabbed Bishop by the shoulders trying to calm him down. That’s when I took the shot and they both blew into the screen door.”

“That’s some shootin’, Henry.”

Henry pushed his hair back and shivered. “Yeah. I guess so.”

They made it to Jackson, Mississippi in about four and a half hours, and found a nice place to have a late lunch. Before they headed north Missy called Phillip Ross. “You’re not gonna believe this.” Then she told him the story. “Tell Jackson. He’ll really appreciate it.”

After lunch they headed north and got into Nashville at around 9:30 that evening. They had picked up some sandwiches along the way. Missy called Ross again from their motel room. 

“We haven’t heard anything on the radio or TV. We’re gonna spend the night in here Nashville and be back tomorrow by dinnertime…Sure. That sounds great. I’ll keep you posted.”

“We’re gonna celebrate at Rudy’s, once we get back tomorrow.” Missy said, as she disconnected from Ross.

“Sounds like a plan.” Henry said. But even after three hours and a couple hundred miles he was still shaking like a leaf.”
“That’ll wear off.” Missy said. And it won’t come back either. Because once you see the political ramifications of this, you’ll feel like a real patriot.”

“I hope so, Missy.”

“No sweat. You dun good Henry.”

~ 28 ~

The bodies of Bishop and Mason were discovered two days later. when the lawn-cutting guy, Darius Bolton, knocked on the front door and getting no reply went around the back. He immediately called the Beaumont PD and a squad car was dispatched. They were greeted by Bolton at the front of the house. 

“They’re out back with big fuckin’ holes in’em.” Bolton said. “I didn’t touch anything.”

The two cops, Pierce Jamison and Elroy Timms, walked around the back and saw the two bodies. Flies were everywhere around the corpses and there was blood splatter  that covered most of the screen partially underneath them on the kitchen floor.

Jamison immediately called for the detectives and the medical examiner, even though it was painfully obvious they were goners. Then he and Timms taped off the entire area. Jackson then started walking to the back end of the property. As he did, Bolton said. “Careful not to touch the fence. It’s got a hundred thousand volts. I can shut it off, if you like. I have to do that when I trim along the property line.”

“You do that Darius. When I get out there, you give me a wave that it’s all clear.” 

Jamison was a hunter, a twelve-year veteran and knew what to look for. But he was pretty sure that he wouldn’t find anything. This was not the world’s most difficult shot to make, but whoever did it must have been some kind of pro with a pretty big gun to blow holes that big into both guys at the same time.

He got to the fence and turned around. Darius waved an all clear at him. But the trees were so dense that the only way he could get in would be to drive around to the service road out the back. He walked along for a while and didn’t notice anything unusual. But then that was to be expected. After only a minute or so out at the edge of the property line he walked back. Several minutes later two ambulances arrived along with an unmarked car with two detectives, Matt Casey and Julien Gomez. Then a third car came up the driveway with the medical examiner, Geraldine Sutter. They talked to both Jackson and Timms and then Bolton. Then they went to look at the bodies.

“Musta been some fuckin’ cannon to take out both guys at the same time and blow them right through the screen.” Casey said.

Geraldine Sutter, aka Gerry, just nodded. “Fifty cal, I reckon. Probably won’t find a bullet. Blowing holes that big means they were tipped with something, like mercury or magnesium so it would have fragmented soon as it hit something solid like the second guy’s spine.”

Gomez walked over to the table and noticed the phone in pieces. “This phone was slammed into that table. Didn’t just drop there. Once the crime scene guys are done, we should find someone who can figure out who he was talkin’ to that pissed him off that badly.”

“You know who these guys were, eh?”

“Gomez, who was fairly new to Beaumont having earned his detective shield down in Brownsville, shook his head.

“The guy on his face with the crater in his back was one of the richest people in the country. The guy underneath him was his bodyguard and best friend.” Casey said.

“That the guy who’s been fuckin’ around up in DC tryin’ to sell the country a Republican president?” Gomez asked.

“Yeah. So we can assume this was an all-pro job.”

“Fuck, that means the the goddamn FBI.”

“Yep. And we get to sit around and play with ourselves.”

Sutter took pictures of the whole scene, including the pieces of the phone and the splatter across the kitchen floor. 

“Cause of death is pretty obvious.” Geraldine said, “Some real good shooter with a real big gun.”

“You have any estimate on time of death?” Casey asked.

“The decomposition was pretty far along. I’d guess a couple days ago at least. Maybe you can get a better time fix off the phone if anybody can put it back together enough to read anything.”

Then she turned to the two waiting ambulance guys. “We’re done. Take’m into town.” Then she turned to Casey. “I’ll get right on it. But you’ll probably get more info from the phone. I’m pretty sure all I’m gonna find are lead fragments,” she said. “I’ll sent you all the photos.”

“Thanks Gerry.” Oh by the way this is Julien Gomez. He’s the new guy, replacing Wiley Forrest.”

“Yeah, I heard Wiley retired.” Nice to meet you Julien, Gerry Sutter.” Gerry said as she closed up her bag. “You guys come by when I’m done the post mortems. Try and find some next of kin so we know where to ship the bodies.”

Then Gerry was gone.

The two detectives stayed long enough to inspect the scene after the body was moved and carefully gather up the pieces of the broken phone on the deck. 

“Nice place.” Gomez said. “A little low key for a big time billionaire.”

“The way I hear it, he spent most of his time on his plane. Had fucking businesses all over the place.” Casey said.

As soon as they did a walkthrough of the house, they left it with the uniforms. “FBI will be all over this presently, Casey said. “Just refer them to us.”

Then Casey and Gomez got in their car and headed back to town.

Around the same time that Casey and Gomez were investigating the mysterious shooting of America’s richest man, Phillip Ross Missy, Tuttle and Henry were sitting down for ribs at Rudy’s. It was late evening so the dinner hour was done and they could talk freely.

“I told Jackson about your twofer. He was totally impressed.” Ross said.

“Yeah, well about ninety percent of it, I reckon, was just dumb luck. Got the shakes for a while after. Missy told me that would pass, and it did. I’m alright now.” 

“Yeah. It’s a bit out there as experiences go,” Tuttle said. “But you know what? You deleted one of the biggest threats our country has seen in a long time.”

Henry just smiled and bit into his ribs. He spent the rest of the meal listening to stories from all three and got to know them all a bit better.”

The only thing that Henry was disappointed about was that he could not share this with anyone, not even his father or Lucy. He’d have to keep it to himself for the rest of his life.

At the end of the meal, Henry said. “You know if there’s nothing else on the horizon. I think I’m gonna head home and see if I still have a girlfriend.”

“There will be a million and a half in your Barbados account tomorrow. I sincerely hope we can count on you again, Henry, because you did a splendid job.”Ross said.

“In for a penny, in for a pound sir.” Henry said as he got up shook hands with Tuttle and Ross and hugged Missy. 

“Give my regards to the rest of the group. “I’ll clean the rifle and bring it back to you on my way back north tomorrow, he said to Tuttle. 

“No need, Henry. Jackson will pick up everything, Jeep included tomorrow, drive it to my house and stash it in my garage.” Tuttle replied. “We’ll see you soon.” 

Henry left the restaurant and got into the Jeep then headed down the few blocks to the house. 

The next morning he cleaned the gun then quickly packed up his stuff and tossed it all into the trunk of the Lexus. Just before he was ready to leave, a taxi dropped Jackson off in front of the house. He walked up the driveway to where Henry was standing.”

“Great work, Henry.” Jackson said.

“Thanks.” Henry replied. “You come to get the Jeep and gun?”

“Yeah, and to see how you were doing.”

Henry took a deep breath. “Well, I was a little shaky for the first six hours or so. Then it calmed down. Havin’ Missy to talk to made it a lot easier than if I’d been on my own.”

“Yeah.” Jackson said. “She has that effect on people.

“Well thank you for all your help, Jackson.”

“It’s all for the cause, Henry.” Jackson replied. “You know this country has always done better with a Democratic government. All the Republicans have ever done is run up the debt and keep the rich in a low tax bracket.”

“There’s always that.”

“Look.” Jackson said. “This…you know what you’re feeling right now, is gonna stay with you for a while. But it will fade. Trust me.”

Henry absently scratched his head. “You’re right you know. I believe that. Just right now, I’d like to be home and with my girl.”

“Know the feeling very well, Henry.”

Henry closed the trunk. “Keys are on the hook inside. I’m all packed. You can lock up.”

“Will do.” Jackson said, as the two men shook hands. “And we’ll likely see you soon. Sadly, this country has more than its share of dangerous assholes.”

Henry started up the Lexus and headed down the driveway at just about the same time the story was breaking nationally. So all the way back up to Owings Mills, he took it all in and realized that he was part of something pretty big and pretty small at the same time.

~ 29 ~

FBI Special agents Hollis Keene and James Holcomb arrived at the FBI field office in downtown Beaumont. They were given a car and directed to police headquarters where Casey and Gomez, who had been pre-advised, were waiting for them in one of the larger evidence rooms. They had posted all the relevant photos on a corkboard on the far wall. 

Keene and Holcomb were shown into the room and the two cops stood up and hands were shaken all around.

Gomez poured coffee for everyone and they all sat down at the table. 

“Understand you’ll be takin’ over this investigation.” Casey said. “Anything we can do to help, we’re happy to do it.”

“Maybe you could take us through what you know right now.” Keene said.

“Well.” Casey said, because he was the senior detective. “The vics, Elmore Bishop and Trevor Mason were billionaire and bodyguard in that order. They appear to have been killed two days ago, but because they live out in the country, nobody knew about it until the lawn guy, one Darius Bolton, a local guy, came to cut the grass, knocked on the door, got no answer so he went round back and what he found is plastered on the corkboard. Darius then called the patrol officers and they called us.

“From the size of the holes in both these guys, we deduced that somebody with skills had hit them with a 50 calibre bullet, which we found no trace of. The men were facing each other and were killed, we assume, by the same bullet. Lots of blood, no bullet fragments that we found. I then went down to the far end of the property several hundred yards, in fact and walked along the fence line. The whole property with the exception of the front gate is wall-to-wall spruce trees. I further assumed that whoever did this came through the woods at the back. There’s a dirt road running about thirty yards east of the property. So they walked through the woods, set up, shot, walked back to their vehicle and got the fuck out of there, way before anybody knew a damn thing. Ground was rock hard so no discernible tire tracks.

“We also found pieces of a high end iPhone that had been smashed on the table on the deck. We’re having our techs look at it to see if we can nail down a time of death at least, and if we’re really lucky, who Bishop had been talking to. That’s about it. And since they’re out in the boonies, there were really no neighbours to question. And now we are talking to you guys.”

“OK.” Keene said. “Thanks for that update. We’re gonna need copies of everything, any forensics and autopsy info, plus anything you find out from the phone. If you don’t get anything, we’ll take it back to Atlanta and see what we can do.”

“Do you want to visit the site?” Gomez asked.

“Are we gonna learn any more than what you just told us?” Keene  asked.

“I don’t think so.” Gomez replied.

“The only question I would have is how many people in town knew about Bishop?” Holcomb asked.

“Hard to say.” Casey said. “He never really came to town at all. Not even for groceries. But you know, Darius Bolton knew about him. And Darius, well, you know small cities. Could be just him. Could be hundreds of folks. The cops all knew for sure. But we’re pretty much a Republican town so a political motive would be hard to come by. And I’ve been on the force for twenty years and have never heard tell of anyone around here who could handle a 50 calibre gun. That’s what heavy duty snipers use.”

Hollis Keene to a deep breath and got to his feet. “Okay, well thanks for the excellent briefing gentlemen. We’re gonna go find a place to stay. We’ll be back in a couple of hours to pick up the crime scene package and get any info you may have pulled off the phone. And, of course the phone itself.”

Hands we shaken all around.and Keene and Holcombe left the station. 

Casey and Gomez sat back down. 

“Well, that was short and sweet. Fucking feds.” Casey said.

“Well, let’s face it’s better having them out there chasing shadows than us.” Gomez replied. 

“Make them a couple of decks and file it. I’ll type out the report so far, Then we can go see Gerry and the tech guys.” Casey said, but there was definitely a little sadness in voice. “Juicy murders are hard to come by in this town. The minute one did happen the fucking Feds swooped in. Go figure.” 

Keene and Holcombe found a motel just outside the downtown core. They registered, dropped their bags and headed off looking for a restaurant. Lot of Tex/Mex stuff around which was fine with both of them. They got settled in and ordered at a place called elCamino. While they were waiting for their beers, Keene asked. “So what do you think, James, another tail-chasing session?”

“Pretty much sir. It would have helped is there were any witnesses or even some kind of motive. I assume a lot of people hated the guy. Comes with the uber-rich territory, but this just feels so…familiar.” 

“You’re right about that, James.” Keene said. “Whoever is doing this is, well, let’s just say that have my grudging admiration. They show up, execute and disappear without so much as a by your leave. They’re deadly accurate and they’ve got the skills to operate a small cannon. The only thing that gets me thinking is just where they get their information. I mean by all accounts this Bishop character is all over the place, practically lives on his plane. How the hell did they know when he’d be home?

“Maybe there’s a third party…world class hacker type.” Holcomb said.

“Yeah, and maybe there’s a heavy duty planner who’s orchestrating it all.”

“Oh no, sir. Please. Not Ross again. We’ve beat that into the ground.”

“Yeah we have. But have you ever really been satisfied with any of our interactions with him.”

“Well was a high level spook. These guys are not exactly sparkling conversationalists.”

“Yeah, but it would be interesting to see if a certain senator comes crawling out of the woodwork if we were to go visit Mr Ross.”

Holcomb took a deep breath and sighed, just as the food was put down in front of him. “Let’s at least have dinner first.” he said. 

~ 30 ~

The next morning the news of the massive hack of one of Elmore Bishop’s offshore accounts was everywhere. The release came directly from the heavily guarded computer of Damon Reese and was signed by the infamous Sword of Damocles group. 

The night before, it was mass emailed out to more than 500 television stations coast to coast and to all the newspapers in every major city in the country. 

          The Sword of Damocles Comes Down Again

The demise of major league Republican donor and wannabe kingmaker, Elmore Bishop should serve as a grim reminder to all those with designs on turning America into any sort of oligarchy. Furthermore we have taken more than $14 billion of his money, so his heirs, if he has any, will be in for an unpleasant surprise.

America is the leading free democratic republic in the world today. And we at the Sword of Damocles are more than prepared to do whatever it takes to keep it that way.”

   The Sword of Damocles

As Hollis Keene and James Holcomb waited in Houston to board their flight to Washington, they could not believe the amount of traffic at the Houston airport which was the closest to Beaumont. The town was going to be overrun with reporters looking for a scoop. They would turn the place inside out and upside down and a few days later they would head home empty-handed. 

“The media in this country have gone straight to hell, James. Look at them all. What a fucking circus.”

“You’ve got that right sir.”

They got to Dulles airport four hours later and rented a car. They didn’t want to waste time going to the Washington office. 

They got down to Richmond at about four in the afternoon. When they did, they called Phillip Ross’s office and were politely told that Mr Ross was taking the week off. 

So they drove to his house. Saw four cars, three of which  they recognized. As they got out they heard noises coming from the rear of the house. So they went around the corner. 

Phillip Ross and Missy Felder were sitting at a table reading newspapers. Jackson Lyall and Ross’s daughter,  Marlena were sitting at the half submerged in the water as the late afternoon sun beat down upon them.

Ross noticed the agents right away. 

He waved them over. 

“Missy, you remember Agents Keene and Holcomb.”

“Of course, come to question us about that evil bastard, Elmore Bishop, no doubt.”

“Please, have a seat.” Ross said. The two agents sat down opposite Ross and Missy Felder. You remember young Jackson Lyle, and that’s his wife, my daughter Marlena. Neither Jackson nor Marlena said anything.

“So how can we help you gentlemen today?”

“Well you know.”Keene said. “We’re just rolling though the usual suspects list and you’re always right up there near the top.”

“So I assume you’d like to know our whereabouts over the past week. I hate to disappoint you. But Missy and I have  been right here. A stay-at-home vacation if you will. Jackson and my daughter have been working in her studio downtown, in fact, putting together a new showing of his work in Baltimore in the fall. So we are all, how do they say it in the movies, alibied up.”

“Yes, I thought you would be. But we do have to go through the motions, since we haven’t been able to develop even a tiny lead back to this Sword of Damocles group.” Keene said. 

“Yeah, well, as much as I am personally rejoicing in Mr. Bishop’s demise, I have a feeling that you will soon be filing this in your unsolved cases drawer. Mr Bishop was not just disliked but actually hated by every single democratic Senator and Congressmen in Washington. Now, if one of those people ever got it in their mind to take him down and steal, what was it, fourteen billion from him, well I’d be happy to buy them a drink at any bar of their choosing. But alas, none of us have left the city limits in over a week. So there you have it. You can put some surveillance on us if you like. But last time all they got was a plate of cookies for their trouble. There will be no cookies this time, Agent Keene, just a big old nothing burger.”

Keene and Holcomb got to their feet. They said their goodbyes and nodded to Jackson and Marlena. They listened
for their car to start.”

“I’m beginning to think you like it when they come around.” Missy said.

“I must confess, it’s a lot of fun.” Ross said.

Keene and Holcomb drove back to Washington. After about twenty minutes, Holcomb said. “I’ll be honest with you, sir. I’m beginning to feel guilty about the taxpayer dollars we are spending chasing this man.”

But Keene said nothing. Instead he opened his phone and called Damon Reese.

“Damon Reese.”

“Mr Reese. You’re a hard man to get hold of. This is Special Agent Hollis Keene of the FBI.”

“Okay.”

“So I’d like to meet with you. I have a few questions.” 

“Questions. What kind of questions are we talking about here?”

“I’d rather save that till we can meet.”

“Hmmm. Well, let me see. There’s a restaurant called Rudy’s Ribs.”

“I’ve been to Rudy’s.”

“OK. I was gonna go there for lunch. So why don’t we meet there say around one?”

“Sounds like a plan.” 

“We’ll see you then.”

Keene disconnected. “Turn the car around James. We’re going to have some ribs.”

Twenty minutes later they were sitting at a round table in the far corner of Rudy’s Ribs. They had both ordered coffees and were about halfway though when Damon Reese walked in. He was wearing his usual cargo shorts and Hawaiian shirt. He spotted the Feds right away, because they stood out like a sore thumb in their grey suits.

Damon caught Josie the waitress and asked her for a coffee. She nodded and Reese walked over to the table and sat down. 

“Damon Reese?” Keene asked

“In the flesh”, Reese responded. “Agents Keene and Holcomb, I assume. So to what do I owe the pleasure of this little tete-a-tete?”

“We’re just curious about your connection to Phillip Ross and Missy Felder.” 

“Well, I built and maintain web sites for both of them. They are just two of about forty clients I have.”

“I know you’ve heard about the Sword of Damocles Group.” Keene asked

“Well sure, they’ve been raisin’ hell for a couple of years now.”

“Suppose I told you I suspected that Phillip Ross was the mastermind of that group.”

Reese smiled and then chuckled. “Wow. You really believe that!”

“Well, you do work for him and he’s been very secretive about his work.”

“And that makes him some fucking domestic terrorist? You guys are way out to lunch. The work Mr Ross does… I don’t know exactly what it all is, but it sure as hell doesn’t involve any of the kind of the stuff this Sword of Damocles group is pulling.”

“Have you ever worked on any of his confidential projects?”

“Yeah, of course I have. That’s exactly how I know you’re barking up the wrong tree. Most of the stuff he does it outside the country. He has no interest in hooligans like the fanatics that Damocles group took out. And he sure as hell didn’t have anything to do with the asshole billionaire who just got
whacked. I was digging around about him and he was a pretty nasty son of a bitch.” Damon said.

“Why were you digging around, as you say, about Mr. Bishop.”

“I’m writing a book on the Sword of Damocles group.”

“So you’ve been in touch with them?” Hollis asked.

No. Not yet at least. I’ve been looking around though and Mr Ross is nowhere in my sights. Best I can figure so far is that these are rich college kids who’ve become radicalized.”

Josie showed up to take their orders. Reese spent the next hour working hard on being completely evasive. He could sense the frustration building in the agents, which made him feel pretty good inside.

The meeting ended like all the other meetings they had had with the group of suspects in Richmond. As far as they knew they had exhausted the last possibility here.

~ 31 ~

As they were sitting in the Dulles departures lounge, Hollis Keene got a call from none other than Senator Rolland Winters.

“Senator. What can I do for you sir?”

“For me, nothing, son. But what you can do for yourself is back off this loco obsession you have with Philip Ross. I told you last time this would a) lead you nowhere and b) get you into a heap of trouble. 

Yes sir, you did. But with all due respect, I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t check on all the people on my suspect list.”

“I understand that, son. But you have driven this nail into the wood and now it’s starting to look like some kinda overkill.”

“Well, if it’s any gratification to you, sir. We are sitting in Dulles waiting to be taken back home.”

‘Well that’s good to hear. But I’ll tell you the truth son. I understand the frustration you’re feeling, but if you keep messing with people who are doing confidential work for the US government, it will not end well for you. And this is the last time I will tell you that. ”

“I hear you sir.”

Keene disconnected. Holcomb chuckled.

“What?”

“Well it’s just comforting to know that my opinion of all this is shared.

“Well, whatever floats your boat James. Of course, you realize we are back to zero leads.”

“Well sir, like you said one time, and it stuck in my head., we’re not dealing with your average criminal minds.”

“No, we’re not, James. But I really wish we were. But it just seems to me that the only people who are benefiting from this activity are the Democrats.”

“Well, there you go. Cuts our suspect list in half.”

“There’s always that.” Keene said. But in the back of his mind, he was having a lot of trouble getting around his instincts.

~ 32 ~

Henry Feather was lying on his bed staring up at the ceiling again. He was still trying to get past the one notion that he was now a hired gun and over to the other notion that he was doing something good for his country. But it was a hard leap to make. Harder than Henry believed in would be in the beginning. The people he was working with were all good souls. They were dedicated to keeping his country from turning into some kind of shithole which he knew the Republicans would turn it into though their greed and enslavement to big business. It seemed they wanted power for a completely different reason than the Democrats did. As that thought sunk in he started to feel a little better. 

Then, when Lucy entered the room and jumped on him, he forgot everything.

“Where the hell have you been, soldier?”

“Had a little something to take care of in DC.” Henry said. “You know, army stuff. Then I ran into an old buddy and we drove down to Chesapeake Bay, where he lives, and did some fishing.”

“I never knew you were a fisherman.”

“Neither did I until I got on his boat and he lent me a rod and reel. There’s something very peaceful about it. So I stayed with him and his wife for a few days and then headed back here.”

“Well, I missed you.”

“Same here, sweetie.”

“So does this mean you’re back for good?”

‘You just never can tell. On the way home I stopped off in Richmond. That town is growin’ like a weed. I talked to a developer there and I think I’m gonna invest in some real estate down that way. So that’ll take me down there every now and then.” 

Henry hated lying to Lucy about what he was actually doing down in Richmond, but he was also a bit proud of himself that he was able to spin that yarn so easily.

“You’re not thinking about moving down there?” Lucy asked.

“No, no, nothing like that. I like living here, keeping the overhead low for the time being.”

“Well,  that’s good because I kinda like havin’ you around.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

Henry then rolled over and kissed Lucy and for the rest of the afternoon they just lay on his bed fooling around and talking about nothing in particular. But underneath it all Henry was waiting for the next call from Phillip Ross.

~ 33 ~

Phillip Ross was sitting on the steps of the Capital Reflecting Pool, surrounded by tourists. A few minutes later Senator Winters came walking up. Ross got to his feet and the two men began to walk around the pool.

“Well we really fucked’em in the ear this time, Phil. The level of panic is palpable.” Winters said.

“Well that’s good to hear, Senator. We broke in a new shooter for this project and it couldn’t have worked out better.”

“I hear tell he got them both with single shot.” Winters said. “That’s some shootin’.”

“Sometimes you catch a break like that. Doesn't’ happen often but when it does, we’re always happy about it.”

“Well I’ll tell you. I think it’s gonna be some time before they find a new Daddy Warbucks. But there’s always something goin’ on with those clowns.”

“Anything specific?”

“Not just yet. But there a bit of a rumour floating around;’ around. I’ll keep you posted. How are things at your end.”

“Lots of business, it’s a really entrepreneurial world, Rolland. Speakin’ of which we uh, investigated the residences of your turncoats. Didn’t come up with anything we could use though.”

“Let’s just let that roll on for a bit longer, see if this last event has any effect on them, you know, bringing them back into the fold, so to speak. The Republicans are really spooked. Maybe some of that spilled over.”

“It’s your call Senator?

“Yeah, well. It’s a lot safer at the moment thanks to you. Trouble is the whole situation can turn on a dime.”

“Yeah, our team is pretty solid. By the way, Missy and I are gonna get married soon. Would love to have you and the Missus attend.”

“Just say when, Phil. And by the way, the fee’s been deposited in your offshore account. And thank you and your group for their service.”

“I’ll let them know, sir.” 

The two men shook hands warmly. 

“Well, you have a good day, Rolland.”

“You too, Phil. Talk soon.”

They were on the far side of the pool. But it was a beautiful day so Ross decided to keep walking. As he walked he thought a lot about how familiar he was with everything around him. But he also realized that he didn’t miss it one bit.”

~ 34 ~

Tuttle unloaded the AX150 into the back room of his range and with a special tool, inserted it into the barrel and changed the striations along the interior of the barrel, just slightly. It was an extra measure of safety that he had read about somewhere on the dark web. This meant that, going forward, he would do it after every shooting. So if the FBI was lucky enough to find enough of a bullet to analyze, they would have no basis for comparison to any gun anywhere. And after each kill, he would change the interior striations of the gun barrel again. 

Tuttle was, and had been since the beginning of his role in Phillip Ross’s underground organization, a very cautious man. And it was this caution along with the cleverness and sanity of all the other players that had kept and, hopefully would continue to keep the FBI at arm’s length.

Later that afternoon, he decided it was time to check up on Henry. He had been home for close to a week and Tuttle was interested in his mental state.

Henry was sitting on his back deck reading a John Grisham novel when his group phone rang.

“Henry, it’s Tuttle.”

“Hi Tuttle. How are things down your way?”

“Just fine. The FBI showed up again, banged their heads against a couple of walls and left. But Damon got a free lunch out of it.”

Henry laughed.

“And how are things with you, son?” Tuttle asked.

“I’m OK. A lot of stuff has faded pretty quickly. Helps to be back home, you know. There’s not another project shaping up is there?”

“No, this is just a courtesy call to see how you’re doin’. You sound just fine. Are you sleeping well?”

Yes sir, I am. I think about things from time to time. I’m also thinkin’ about buying a rifle. Gotta keep up my skills, you know.”

“Well you head down here and we’ll get you taken care of. Employee discount and all.”

Henry laughed. “Yeah, I just might do that.”

“Well you sound good, so I’m happy about that.” 

Okay, well thanks for checkin’ up on me. Any word on what’s goin’ on in DC?”

“Not much at all. The Republicans got hit hard and they’ll all nosin’ around for another mega-donor. But they’re gonna have a helluva time finding one, at least for the foreseeable future, and that was a big part of the plan.”

“Well, that’s good to know. Kinda justifies things in my mind.”

“I thought it would. You take care Henry and get your ass down here when you’re ready to buy that long gun.”

“Will do, sir.”

With that, Henry disconnected and took a deep breath. He was gonna be alright, he told himself, and for the first time since he had blown Bishop and Mason away, he actually believed it.

FIN