Final Stand

by Lisa Phillips

  “Because your bomb is going to incinerate us.”

  Langdon shrugged. “Everyone will see it. You’ll be famous, and dead. Does that make you infamous?”

  She said nothing.

  “You’ll go viral. Victoria Bramlyn, trending.”

  She couldn’t think of anything worse.

  “Viral.” He paused. “Huh, maybe I should have thought of that and got a bioweapon instead of hanging onto that uranium.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t sell it. What else was I supposed to do?”

  “There isn’t some kind of…nuclear device amnesty program?”

  He laughed, and it sounded like his amusement over her comment surprised him. He shut the door, the sound of his laugh echoing down the empty hallway.

  She still hadn’t figured out where she was. Did it matter?

  He didn’t come back for a while. Victoria fought the urge to try and snap the ties. “Jakeman.”

  She could feel blood trickling down her feet. Pooling on the floor. Enough her foot sat in something wet and sticky, but she wasn’t about to bleed out.

  The secretary of defense only moaned.

  She looked down again, trying to ease the itch all over her legs. She caught sight of the inside of her elbow, the spot where Langdon had injected whatever this was that made her feel crazy. Sound crazy. Look crazy.

  She tried to breathe through the sensation. The alternative was losing her mind.

  Jakeman moaned. Langdon had hit him pretty hard, then kicked him. Enough he stayed down as Victoria read from Langdon’s prepared notes, everything he’d wanted her to say for the video that would be the nail in the coffin of her life, her work. Her reputation and the respect she’d built. Even Jakeman’s wife and daughter, assuming they were still alive, would lose faith in them. If they for one second thought it was true, then Victoria had lost this entire battle.

  There had to be something she could do to stop him.

  Langdon strode in and walked right to her. He bent to a crouch and she heard a light snick. The ties on her right foot loosened, falling to the floor. She jerked and tried to kick him.

  Almost nothing happened. She barely managed to do more than twitch her leg and grunt.

  He laughed, loosed her other leg, and stood. Her hands were secured together and tethered to the chair legs at the back, under the sweater he’d covered her hands with.

  He cut them free from the chair, but left her hands bound.

  Then Langdon backed up. He pointed the gun at her then flicked the barrel toward Jakeman. “Get him up.”

  Victoria considered the situation. “You’re assuming I can walk.”

  Debatable, at least she figured as much. Not even in control of her own body right now. God, is this the kind of stuff You help with? She imagined it probably was, but she had no idea how that worked. She wasn’t a Christian in the sense Dakota had explained. Hadn’t really ever had that desire, or seen that she necessarily had a need. Maybe life had simply never been this intense. She’d never found herself this close to the wire with no way out.

  Did God accept people on those terms? She had no idea.

  “You’d better walk, or I’ll drag you out myself.” Langdon sniffed. “Get him up. It’s time to go.”

  “Where?” She gritted her teeth and tried to get up, knowing she had to find her balance and move, even if that meant dragging her feet in order to avoid retaliation on her or Jakeman. “Where is the bomb, Colin?”

  The skin around his eyes contracted.

  “We had a good thing, right? For a while.” Yeah...until he threw her in a South African prison to keep the lid on his own secrets.

  She’d jumped in with both feet, mostly just for the sake of distracting herself. Mark had been happy. Married. To say Colin Pinton had been a rebound didn’t exactly qualify the bad decision she’d made but it covered enough of what it was.

  Victoria couldn’t say precisely that she’d known something was off with him, but she must have had some slight feeling or premonition. Maybe that was why she’d resisted his attempts to take things “to the next level.” In the end, it had been a good thing she had resisted, considering what happened instead. But the truth was, she’d had blinders on. Too absorbed by her own hurt feelings and also trying to find it in her to be happy for Mark, to see what had been right in front of her face.

  “Get him up.” Gone was any trace of the Colin Pinton that she’d known. This man was Oscar Langdon, international criminal.

  She took a step and winced. Her whole body was sore and hypersensitive. The tingling sensation wouldn’t let up. How long would it take to leave her system? She wondered if she’d be dead before she felt normal again.

  No.

  She wasn’t going to allow that to happen.

  “Where’s the bomb?” That was part of what she had to do, disarm it so no one would get hurt. He needed to tell her. Then she could take him out and go shut down the bomb before it went off. “When are you going to use it?”

  He sighed. “Let’s go meet destiny.”

  “Lang—”

  “The bomb is already at the ranch.”

  A thought niggled at her, but the incessant itching overwhelmed her ability to recall whatever it was. “A ranch?”

  “The ranch. Timer is already set, everything is in place and ready to go. You’re just icing on the cake, darling.” He sneered. “The video’s been sent, and the bomb will detonate at midnight, regardless of where we are. Doesn’t matter. There are enough variations of this plan, because I’ve figured them all out. There’s no way I’m going to fail. Doesn’t matter what you try and do.”

  “Tonight?” The Western Governors’ Association. “Their meeting isn’t scheduled until tomorrow.” She remembered that much from her last email update. It was an extremely secure event, a house full of the most powerful people on the West Coast, all gathered together to pat each other’s backs and brainstorm what they were planning next.

  She remembered thinking it was a waste of taxpayer dollars.

  Langdon said, “They’ll all be there tonight, why wait?”

  A shiver went through her, and it felt like her skin hummed. She wanted to itch herself all over. And she would have, had she been able to. Too bad it wouldn’t help. She knew nothing would make this go away. Unless she was able to claw her skin off. If she had no skin, she’d no longer have to worry about the itching from the stupid injection any longer.

  She would recover, eventually—if she didn’t destroy herself in the process.

  Or...she’d be dead from his bomb.

  Victoria didn’t want to think about the fact he’d basically incapacitated her from being able to defuse it. She might have been able to do it, given some of her training, but it might just be impossible with the way her faculties were functioning at this moment. If she got near enough to disable it, she would probably twitch and set it off instead.

  Langdon prodded her with the gun. “Move.”

  She hissed out a breath as the feeling of the barrel moved through her. Like a wave of ants.

  “Get him up. Time to go, the clock is ticking.”

  She moved to Jakeman and saw his eyes open, staring at her. His gaze then shifted to glare at Langdon. Victoria wanted to reassure him, to tell him that she had this. Langdon wasn’t going to take them anywhere. She knew now where the bomb was. In a second, the tables would turn and she would have the upper hand.

  He thought he’d incapacitated her, but Langdon didn’t realize what she could withstand. There was a whole lot more to Victoria Bramlyn then he ever gave her credit for.

  So what if he had a gun? He would quickly find out that didn’t matter.

  Victoria would stop him.

  She helped Jakeman to his feet. Hands bound like hers. Legs unsteady. They clung to each other for a second, years of friendship leaving them able to communicate without words. In this together. She was going to take care of it. No need to worry.

  Victoria turned, holding onto Jakeman’s arm with h
er bound hands. It would be awkward, but she was determined.

  Probably Langdon would see it coming.

  She said a silent prayer that this would work. That she would get Jakeman free of him, so that she could get to the bomb.

  They took a lumbering step toward Langdon.

  Another.

  Victoria shifted. She saw his gaze track her intention. No turning back now. She swung up in an arc with her hands, intending on clipping the gun before she hit him in the face. Would she get shot? Too late to guess. She slammed the gun.

  He twisted.

  Something heavy hit her from the side—behind her shoulder—and she got bumped.

  Jakeman launched himself at Langdon. She cried out. They toppled to the floor, Jakeman on top of Langdon. The secretary of defense roared in frustration and pain.

  Victoria sank to her knees and tried to grab the gun from where they both fought over it. She leaned on Langdon’s shoulder but ducked her head so Jakeman didn’t hit hers with his own as he swayed. Why did he go and do this? She’d been taking care of it. Taking care of both of them. It was her job.

  Langdon gritted his teeth.

  She couldn’t get Jakeman off without pushing him. She wanted to scream at him, ask what he’d been hoping to accomplish.

  The gun went off.

  Jakeman’s body jerked. Langdon shoved him off. Victoria fell back to a sitting position on the floor.

  Langdon hauled her up by her arm, fingers wrapped tight around her bicep. She cried out as he dragged her up toward the door and into the hall.

  She craned her neck to look back over her shoulder. “Jakeman!”

  He lay on his back, blood on his chest. Gasping. Eyes wide.

  “Jakeman!”

  Langdon just laughed.

  Chapter 36

  Olympia, WA. Sunday 7.32p.m.

  “Yes, Mr. President. I understand completely.” Mason hung up and stowed his cell phone, shaking his head.

  Mark shut off the SUVs engine and waited for him to explain.

  “I guess we’re in. They have no choice but to unbar the door.” The secret service assistant director opened his car door. “He said, and I quote, ‘You get my Vickie back.’ Has to be the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had.”

  “With the president?” Mark couldn’t say he’d ever had the honor.

  “No, pretty much the weirdest conversation of my life.”

  They strode together to the front door of the ranch house where the Western Governors’ Association meeting was being held tomorrow. No point in waiting until then, considering they had the time to set things up so they’d be ready when Langdon got there. With Victoria.

  Both pulled out their badges, letting the Washington State Police officers at the front door know exactly what they were dealing with—two assistant directors of federal offices who had spoken with the president and weren’t going to take no for an answer.

  The first to speak was a sergeant. Lined face, handlebar mustache. He’d have been a heartthrob forty years ago. Now he just looked like he needed slippers and a recliner. “You two from the gate?”

  Mark nodded. They’d given their names, flashed their badges at the camera, and waited for their information to be checked by whoever was on the other end.

  “I kinda thought you guys were joking about that.” But he stepped aside and allowed them between the two oak doors.

  Calling it a ranch was like calling a buffet a snack. The place was really an estate with multiple buildings. Barns. Cottages. It would probably be more accurately called a village, and if they had their own post office and residential sheriff, then he wouldn’t have exactly been surprised.

  “Down the hall, to the left.”

  The other officer watched them depart with narrowed eyes.

  Mark muttered, “Whatever.” They were here and that guy’s opinion didn’t matter much when lives were on the line.

  “What’s that?”

  He didn’t explain. He already regretted his attitude with Victoria still missing. He couldn’t waste time being petty. Instead, Mark said, “Are the governors here already?”

  “Washington is in residence all this week and next. The rest trickle in this evening, one straggler with a delayed flight tomorrow.”

  Mark nodded.

  “State police chief. Seattle PD commissioner. They’re here as well, along with thirty-five staff. Housekeeping, catering. All that.”

  A man stepped out at the end of the hall. “FBI and Secret Service?”

  Mark said, “That’s us. Seems pretty quiet around here.”

  The man waved them into a room. Mark went first, followed by Mason. He pulled up short at the noise and the number of people crammed into this small room, then felt Mason jab his finger into his side. He stepped out of the way and Mason entered. They stood side by side while men and women in suits and badges turned in their direction.

  “You mentioned there was a threat?”

  Okay, then.

  “You’re FBI right?” The first man strode over, holding out one hand.

  Mark shook it.

  The guy had dark brown hair, silver at the temples. Tan pants, white shirt. Badge hanging from a chain around his neck. Sport watch. “I’m Governor Templeton’s head of security.”

  “Mark Welvern.”

  “I’ve heard of you from the lieutenant governor.”

  Mark nodded, hoping it was good enough.

  “How’s it feel to be one of the last ones standing?”

  “Like I should’ve brought some backup of my own.”

  Mason slapped Mark’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “What am I? Oh, wait. I’m the Secret Service assistant director.” He even folded his arms.

  “Let’s find that nuke. Okay?”

  Someone across the room spat out a mouthful of coffee.

  “Then we can work out which of us has more seniority.”

  Mason huffed in disbelief. “You think you outrank me? Your army of ants was corrupted with the red kind that bites, thinking they’re gonna get away with it. But you’re right. There’s a nuke to disarm, and we need to find your woman.”

  The governor’s head of security glanced back at the room. “Anyone else feeling as out of the loop as I am?”

  Mark explained the situation as quickly as he could, impressing on them the timing factor. “We have no idea when he’s gonna show up or where that bomb is right now.”

  Everyone there gathered in.

  “A nuke, seriously?”

  Mark nodded while one guy slipped out the back of the room. He got it, this was heavy. “I’d like to walk through every room in every building. Get a sense of the place.”

  The head of security nodded. “Sounds good. We should start evacuations, right?”

  Mark wasn’t so sure about that. “If he’s here, or watching, we could tip him off that we know something and he’ll change targets. We might never find him.” Or Victoria.

  There was some discussion. That many cops in one room, all from different departments, it got sticky on the issue of who was the senior giving orders. A few of them clearly distrusted the FBI, and given the current climate, he didn’t blame them.

  “This isn’t about me, or the FBI. This is about all of us stopping an attack.”

  Mason said, “Besides. I’m the one the president put in charge. So we go through me until further notice. Let’s move out. I want a sweep, and I want all security double-checked. We make sure Langdon isn’t here already. I’ll get you all Victoria Bramlyn’s picture, and you call me immediately if you find her.”

  Mark nearly sagged with relief but refused to give any of them the impression he was seriously exhausted. This was almost over, right? Until then, he had to continue pushing through to the end.

  Give me strength, God. Help me find her.

  God was in the business of supplying needs. Mark trusted Him to do this now, just as He’d done so many times before.

  This might be the most important one.r />
  Five minutes later, Mark entered a barn with the governor’s head of security. “What did you say your name was?” Maybe the guy had told him, and he’d been so preoccupied with everything going on.

  “In the grand scheme of things, is it really relevant?”

  Mark glanced over his shoulder. It was a rare man who could admit his own place was a humble one. Most just kept quiet about it. He spotted an expression in the guy’s eyes he didn’t understand.

  Mark turned his attention back to the interior of the barn and a hall of stalls that were way too clean to actually house horses. Sure enough, over the first stall he spotted a vintage Corvette.

  Under his jacket, Mark reached across his body like he was scratching an itch on his ribs and unsnapped his gun.

  “See any nukes?”

  “Nothing yet.” He kept moving like he was more interested in getting a look-see at all the cars. One was so brand new he was pretty sure it was a prototype. It looked like a sports car from the future. He couldn’t help whistling. It helped to sell the idea he was distracted, not trying too hard to look for a bomb despite his earlier tone. Mark reached the end of the line of stalls and then spun around.

  Gun up.

  The man whose name he still didn’t know had a gun of his own. “Now why did you have to go and tell them all about the nuke?”

  “Colin.”

  Wig. Prosthetic disguise like they used in theaters. Or spycraft. Probably his own mother wouldn’t have recognized him.

  Langdon would have killed her if she had.

  “That’s not who I am.” He held out his free hand, palm to the roof. “The time has come to be reborn.”

  “So you blow up this whole place, and all the people here, and you take off and go live your life as someone else?” Where was Victoria, and Jakeman?

  If Langdon was here already, that meant the two of them likely were as well. “Tell me where she is. Where the bomb is. Now.”

  “Because you think I’m going to just give everything away?”