Hunt the Lion

by Chad Zunker

  “Yes. But we’re doing our best to remedy that.”

  Sam sighed. “My father really knew how to make my life miserable.”

  “Because of your father, we’ve been able to protect hundreds of valuable assets whose lives have been in serious jeopardy for the past two months.”

  “You also lost some really good people,” Sam countered, thinking of Roger, Mack, Luis, and the others.

  “True. And we mourn those losses deeply, I assure you. However, you should know that each of them knew exactly what they were walking into and signed up for it, anyway. This is the dangerous nature of the high-stakes world we work in day in and day out, where thousands of lives are always on the line.”

  “I guess.”

  Barton leaned forward on his knees, seemed sympathetic. “Look, you were worked over and manipulated by your father on this thing. I get it. That would be a tough pill for me to swallow, too. For that, I’m sorry. I allowed it to happen on my watch.”

  “No one twisted my arm. I knew what I was doing.”

  Barton leaned back again, took a moment. “You did know what you were doing. You were everything Marcus believed you were, Sam. There was a reason he put you through so much to recruit you. You’re truly a remarkable talent. Much like your father. Without you, we’d be looking at the deaths of countless people over these next few months. You saved their lives by putting your own life on the line. I hope you can take some satisfaction in that.”

  “Maybe someday. What happens to Charlie?”

  “That’s tricky,” Barton admitted. “The smartest thing we can do is send him back to Russia and protect the relational dynamics we already have in place.”

  “You can’t do that!” Sam blurted, bolting off the sofa.

  The door to the room opened at his outburst. One of the suited agents peered inside, ready to pounce on Sam, but Barton told him everything was fine. He shut the door again.

  “Calm down,” Barton told Sam. “I didn’t say that’s what we’re going to do.”

  Sam slowly sat again. “What, then? Charlie can stay with me.”

  “You can’t keep the boy,” Barton said, shaking his head. “At least not right away. If the boy is out in the open with you, it’ll be a mess for us. As you well know, the Russians are all over this because of Zolotov. And, like it or not, you’re at the center. At this point, it’s best if the Russians believe the boy disappeared with Marcus.”

  “You’re going to make my father disappear?”

  Barton gave him a tight smile. “Your father disappeared more than a decade ago.”

  Sam knew what he meant by that. “So then, what will you do with Charlie? I need to be able to see him, even if he’s not living with me. I know someone who I think would take Charlie into his family. A good man and a good family.”

  “Isaiah Washington?” Barton queried.

  Sam again tilted his head. How did he know about Pastor Isaiah?

  “I told you, I know everything,” Barton said, filling in the gap. “I can make that happen. We can give Charlie a new identity, place him in Denver, and even offer him some discreet protection. At least until this thing settles down. But you’d have to understand that I’d be doing you a personal favor. Like I said, the smartest move for us is to send him back to Russia.”

  Sam studied Barton. Where was he going with this favor talk? When someone called something a favor, it usually meant a return favor was expected. It didn’t take Barton long to reveal his cards.

  “I’d like you to consider something,” Barton said. “As I mentioned earlier, you have the most unique of skill sets. Mental abilities that most of us don’t possess. Hell, I think I could count on one hand the men under my command who might have been able to survive everything you’ve been through the past month. Believe me, the list is short.”

  Sam cut him off. “I’m not going to be one of your covert special-ops guys, if that’s what you’re suggesting. No, thanks. I’ve already seen enough death for one lifetime. I just want to get back home and start helping normal people with real problems. It’s the reason I went to law school in the first place. Screw all of this.”

  “It’s actually that moral compass I want from you, Sam. I assure you, I already have enough highly trained special-ops agents who have no problem walking into a dark room and putting a bullet into a really bad guy. With you, I’m talking about something different. An opportunity to help innocent people all over the world.”

  “What innocent people?” Sam asked, although he couldn’t believe he was even remotely engaging with Barton on this matter.

  “Good people caught in the middle of complex geopolitical firestorms. Some held hostage and used as bargaining chips for political reasons. Many who’ve been swept up in hostile situations, where their governments, including ours, have been forced to publicly orphan them. Some are just kids, like Charlie. Innocent children who, by no fault of their own, find themselves being used as pawns in dangerous international games among sinister people.”

  Sam thought of Charlie. “What would I do?”

  “Use your unique skill sets, both as a street survivor and as a lawyer, to help these people find their way out. I’ve created a special unit to carry out these missions. Sometimes they’re able to resolve these matters diplomatically. Sometimes they have to find other ways. As a personal favor to me, I’d like you to think about joining the unit.”

  Sam’s eyes narrowed. “If I don’t, you send Charlie back to Russia?”

  “Of course not. The favor is in the consideration. That’s all.”

  Sitting there, Sam felt shocked by the proposition. Never in a million years had he expected Barton to invite him to stay on with the Agency in some capacity. He expected to be put on a plane, sent home, and told to keep his mouth shut. Which would’ve been just fine with him. He didn’t want to talk about this stuff. But he also felt shocked by his own curiosity over such a proposal.

  “How do I know this isn’t another one of the CIA’s tricks to pull me into something very unlike what you’re describing?”

  “You have my word. I’ll get you real cases to review.”

  “Would I have to keep secrets?”

  “From Natalie?”

  Sam nodded. “I’m done lying to her.”

  “You don’t have to lie to her. She can know what you’re doing. Although you may not be able to share mission specifics, of course. Some of what you’ll be seeing is the most classified intel on the planet.”

  “What about others? Friends? Family? Can they know what I’m doing?”

  “In a roundabout way, yes. You’d simply tell them you took a State Department job working as an analyst on diplomatic matters. Not lying—just not giving full disclosure.”

  Sam rubbed his forehead, not sure how to process it all right now. Barton seemed to sense he was overloaded.

  “Just think about it, Sam. I don’t need an answer today.”

  “Can I call Natalie now?”

  Barton grinned. “No need to call. I brought her with me.”

  SIXTY-THREE

  Sam bolted out the door of the small room, raced over to the private plane, his heart in his throat. The stairs were still down, and one of the agents had just walked up them to enter the cabin. A moment later, Natalie appeared at the top of the stairs, causing Sam to fall to his knees on the tarmac, tears filling his eyes. She looked like a vision. Seeing Sam, she rushed down the stairs. He stood to embrace her, but she paused before letting him, her eyes narrow, her face stern. Then she slapped him hard across the cheek, stunning him.

  “Don’t ever lie to me again, Sam,” she demanded with wet eyes.

  He swallowed, rubbed his cheek, realizing in that moment that Natalie already knew a lot more than he’d imagined. “I’m so sorry, Natalie. I deserved that. I deserve a thousand slaps. I promise I will never lie to you again.”

  She continued to glare at him.

  “Have I already lost you?” he asked.

  Her face soften
ed. “Would I be standing here if you’d lost me?”

  “I just need you to say it,” he begged.

  She stepped forward, wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him in for a kiss. He pulled her even closer, damn near squeezing the life out of her, the tears falling more freely now from both of them. Sam didn’t even care that several CIA agents were staring at them. He saw nothing but her.

  She held his face in her hands a moment. “You could never lose me, Sam. But you’ve got a hell of a lot of work ahead of you to regain my full trust.”

  He nodded. “I’m willing to do that work.”

  “Good.”

  “How are you even standing here?” he asked her.

  “Oh, Sam,” she replied, sighing, “there’s so much you don’t know. So much that has happened back in DC while you were away.”

  He noticed cuts and scrapes on her face. “What happened? Tell me!”

  “I will. On the plane. Let’s just go home.”

  “I’m ready to go home. But I’m bringing someone else with me.”

  She tilted her head. “Who?”

  “My brother.”

  Her mouth dropped open. Clearly, Barton had not yet shared everything with her. Probably because the director wanted the bargaining chip in his private discussion with Sam without complicating matters by telling Natalie in advance. Sam quickly explained about Charlie, leaving her further stunned.

  “The boy doesn’t know I’m his brother yet,” Sam mentioned. “I’ll address that at some point down the road. You want to meet him?”

  “Of course!”

  Holding Natalie by the hand, he led her over to the black Explorer, where Charlie was still in the back seat, playing on the tablet.

  “Hey, Charlie, I want you to meet Natalie.”

  The boy looked up at her, grinned. “You’re pretty.”

  Natalie smiled wide. “Thank you.”

  “I agree, Charlie,” Sam added. “Hey, you want to go on that jet over there?”

  “For real?” Charlie asked, wide-eyed.

  “Yes, for real. How about you, me, and Natalie go climb into that plane over there and go on another adventure?”

  Charlie beamed. “Cool!”

  Minutes later, they all sat in the back of the plane, along with Barton. The other two agents sat near the front. Charlie had his face pressed to one of the glass windows as the plane rocketed down the runway and lifted up into the sky. Sam held Natalie’s hand so tightly, he thought he might cut off her circulation. But she didn’t seem to mind.

  Staring out the window, Sam slowly exhaled—a breath filled with relief.

  SIXTY-FOUR

  Lloyd hustled down the hospital hallway toward the ICU.

  His swift pace was driven not by fear but by exhilaration. Pop was finally awake and alert. He’d just gotten the call ten minutes ago. And according to the nurses, not only was his father awake but he was already acting as ornery as ever. While that would have usually frustrated him, Lloyd felt pretty damn happy to hear it today.

  He arrived at Pop’s room just in time to see a nurse walk out in an angry huff. His father was propped up in the bed. While he still looked fragile, the blood had returned to his face. And the fighting spirit was certainly back, as his father started yelling at him the moment he placed eyes on Lloyd.

  “Dammit, Spencer! Get these damn tubes out of me and get me out of this place.”

  Lloyd laughed, as two days of tension finally released from his chest. He walked over and hugged his father, who tried to push him away. But that only made Lloyd squeeze him even harder.

  “Enough of that already,” his father continued. “Are you listening to me? I said get me out of here.”

  “You need to be patient, Pop. You’ve been through quite the ordeal.”

  “I feel fine. This is all nonsense.”

  Lloyd couldn’t stop smiling. It had been a damn fine day. With Stone and Barton working closely together, all the key players in this sinister conspiracy had already been apprehended without any further incident. Lloyd had made sure he was standing there when a swarm of federal agents had actually tackled an unsuspecting Mike Madrone to the pavement the moment he’d stepped out of an apartment building. The man who put his father in this bed in the first place—among many other more serious sins—would now suffer severe consequences for it.

  “Why’re you standing there and grinning like an idiot?” his father scolded him. “You like seeing me this way?”

  Lloyd patted his father’s arm. “Look, I can’t get you out of here today, Pop, but how about I run to the store and pick us up the biggest carton of Oreo cookies I can find?”

  His father glared at him. “Double stuffed?”

  “Of course.”

  His father grumbled a bit more, then finally said, “Okay, fine.”

  SIXTY-FIVE

  Natalie began working on her story for PowerPlay while on the plane ride home with Sam from London. Focusing on her story seemed to be a healthy way for both of them to share their versions of events because it allowed them to somewhat detach from the heavy emotions of everything they’d been through over the past two days. Although with each new revelation she shared with Sam of what she’d had to endure to stay alive and get to the truth, he seemed to get angrier with himself. He kept saying he was just trying to protect her, but all he really did was put her in even more danger. He’d never be able to forgive himself.

  Natalie offered little to help soften his blows—he deserved it. She was okay with Sam treating himself like a bit of a punching bag right now, even if she could understand how the shock of discovering Marcus Pelini was his real father might have clouded his decision-making. Still, she would not let him off easy. If they had any future together, she had to draw a hard line. Trust was everything in a relationship. To his credit, Sam accepted her cold-shoulder approach. He was not letting himself off easy, either.

  Upon landing in DC, Natalie headed straight to her office at PowerPlay to finalize her story while Sam took Charlie back to her apartment. Natalie couldn’t imagine what was going through that sweet boy’s head right now. Charlie had a long road ahead of him.

  The office was abuzz when she arrived. Her editor, Nick Montague, was waiting for her, along with several other reporters and staff who had been working her story nonstop since Natalie had called in the cavalry earlier that day. Although the FBI had already apprehended Senator Harris hours earlier, creating a serious DC buzz, no news outlet had been able to give many details on the reasons behind his arrest. With a press of a button on her keyboard, Natalie would be changing that shortly.

  Although the arrest of Senator Harris understandably created the most excitement around town, several other arrests had also taken place across the city in what had officially become a joint FBI–CIA investigative effort. With Stone’s blessing, Natalie had made sure members of her team were there to document each of the arrests in person with their high-powered cameras.

  Lenny Gregor—the thug who had relentlessly hunted her.

  Nathan Barnes—the attorney who had likely contracted Lenny on behalf of his uncle, Senator Harris.

  Dan Bradley—the assistant deputy director with the CIA who had been in cahoots with Harris from the beginning.

  A dark political conspiracy with far-reaching international repercussions.

  And another serious notch on Natalie’s investigative-reporter belt.

  Sitting at her desk, Natalie felt half a dozen sets of eyes on her from behind. Everyone on her team was waiting for her to press Enter. To upload her full story to the website and set Twitter on fire. They all lived for these moments. The air was thick with anticipation.

  Natalie hesitated a moment. There was only once source of tension for her: Sam. Once again, she’d been placed in the precarious position of having to leave out key components of a dynamic story in order to protect the man she loved. Would that ever end?

  Sam had told her on the plane about the proposition Director Barton ha
d put in front of him in London. She had to admit, it seemed right up Sam’s alley—if everything Barton was saying about helping the most vulnerable was true. Sam seemed open to it but insisted he would never take a step forward without Natalie’s full blessing.

  Could she give Sam that blessing?

  Natalie already felt the emotional tug-of-war happening inside.

  On one side, the man she loved; on the other, her journalistic integrity.

  What kind of future was that? Could they survive that constant tension?

  What kind of journalist would she become?

  Still—she loved Sam deeply. More than anything.

  Reaching over, she pressed Enter, as the office erupted in cheers.

  SIXTY-SIX

  With Charlie standing by his side, hugging on his leg, Sam knocked firmly on the door. A moment later, Pastor Isaiah opened the front door of his home with the brightest of smiles. Sam exchanged a warm embrace with the man. Then Pastor Isaiah knelt before the boy, where he could look him eye to eye.

  “You must be Charlie,” Pastor Isaiah said.

  Charlie nodded, shifted awkwardly.

  “My name’s Isaiah. It’s wonderful to meet you.”

  Charlie grinned shyly, hugged Sam’s leg a bit harder.

  The boy knew he’d be living with a new family in a city called Denver. But it was clearly difficult for him to step into yet another unfamiliar situation. Sam had done his best to prepare Charlie for a new life in the States. Up until they had left London, the boy clearly thought he’d be returning to his home in Moscow at some point. That had created some bumps in the road. To ensure the transition went smoothly, Director Barton had allowed Charlie to stay with Sam for a full week in a remote DC location, where they’d bonded over games, movies, and every sort of fun adventure Sam and Natalie could possibly dream up for the boy. Sam had done his very best to pour everything he had into Charlie during that short time frame in an effort to help the boy feel as safe and secure as possible. Now it was up to Pastor Isaiah and Alisha, who had immediately agreed to take him into their home for however long it took.