by Michael Todd
He knew corporate America well enough to know they would do everything they could to make sure the story didn’t become common knowledge. Jenkins also seemed like the kind of man who wouldn’t spread the news that he’d been forced to give up sensitive information, especially on someone who had blackmail material on him.
While he couldn’t afford to make any assumptions, an educated guess could be made that suggested he might have a couple of days at the most before Banks knew he had been identified.
With that said, he also knew the lawyer couldn’t be his priority at this point. The man could be dealt with in due course. Now that he knew who he was after, he needed to make sure the people who needed protecting were out of harm’s way.
“Hey, Anja,” Savage said as he slid into his car, which he’d left parked in the supermarket parking lot. He removed the uniform a piece at a time.
“Mission accomplished, right?” she asked.
“More or less.” He started the car and pulled onto the road. “I mean, yes, but I have another mission on my shoulders now. Can you put me through to Anderson on this connection? It must be a secure line. I need to be on the move right now and I can’t be pulled over for talking on my phone while driving.”
“A little bit bossy today, aren’t we?” Anja asked. He knew she tried to push his buttons to lighten his mood, but he really didn’t have time for it. She was one of the people who would try to help him when she thought he needed help, whether he agreed with her or not.
He actually felt better now than he had when this whole thing started. It helped to know who he was dealing with. Well, he had a name and knew the hacker would turn it into all kinds of knowledge they did and didn’t need. While she worked on that, and while he could probably have Sam and Terry run point on an operation against Banks, he knew his priority right now needed to be helping his family and keeping them safe.
“Hey, Savage?” Anderson spoke through his earpiece. “Anja said it was important and that you found whoever accessed your files?”
“She wasn’t lying,” Savage replied and eased onto the highway. “We had a chat with the congressman responsible for the leak, and he spilled the beans on who was behind it. Apparently, he was blackmailed into sharing the information by some lawyer called Mason Banks. Anja can fill you in on the details.”
“Mason Banks?” Anderson asked. “Am I supposed to know who that is?”
He shrugged. “I don’t. But Anja said she is working on uncovering what she could on the man. Well, not in so many words, but the fact that she hasn’t actively joined this conversation tells me that’s what she’s doing. Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. I…have a favor I need to ask of you. And possibly Monroe too.”
“Name it,” the former colonel said immediately.
“You don’t know what it is that I intend to ask,” he pointed out.
“You were there for me when I needed your help to save my family, Savage,” the man grumbled and obviously didn’t like that he had to spell it out explicitly. “What the hell kind of man would I be if I didn’t help you do the same thing for yours?”
“Well, maybe you’ll be the man who can talk Monroe and maybe even the board into giving me access to one of those corporate planes we used to travel all around the country?” Savage asked. He grasped the wheel tighter as his heart rate quickened again.
There was a slight pause on Anderson’s side of the line. “You need a private jet?”
“I need to fly to Seattle,” Savage explained. “I can’t let my family know I’m alive, but I need to make sure they’re okay. I wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else until I know they’re safe, and what better way to do that than in person, right?”
Another pause dragged on a little longer than the last. “I don’t understand why you can’t fly commercial. First class, of course.”
“My comfort isn’t the problem,” he retorted. “I’m headed there with a small arsenal—the kind the TSA doesn’t appreciate being brought on their planes anymore. I’d like to keep it instead of wasting time to rearm myself once I’m there.”
“I understand. I’d approve it myself, but I’ll need to run it past Courtney first. She’ll be able to make sure it’s all cleared with the bureaucrats around here. I’ll call you when it’s done.”
“I appreciate it, Anderson.”
“You know it,” the former colonel replied and hung up.
Savage continued in a tense silence until the sound of Anja’s voice broke through the tedium.
“I’ve sent what I could find on the surface about Banks to Anderson for intel,” she said and sounded a little more subdued than before. “I have bugs running traces and digging deeper, so we’ll know more about him soon.”
“Thanks, Anja,” he rumbled and kept his eyes focused on the road.
“I’ve known you a little while now, Savage,” she said haltingly and didn’t seem too confident about what she was about to say or ask. “I’d like to think I know you better than most people. Hell, I know most people better than most other people know them.”
“I don’t doubt it.” He chuckled.
“Anyway,” she continued, “you seem like the kind of guy who would have charged off to attack Banks personally, made sure you reached him first, and taken him by surprise. I’m not a specialist in any of this, but it seems to me that would be the best move. Banks is in New York, about three or four hour's drive away. Why are you heading to Seattle?”
He didn’t want to answer that and knew he wasn’t thinking clearly right now. But he had meat in the game, to speak metaphorically, which meant every decision he made would probably be biased one way or another, and that was a recipe for disaster.
“I know I should probably eliminate Banks first,” he said, his voice soft, and despite his best efforts, he couldn’t keep the emotion from it. “I should force him to stay away from my family and kill him if I have to—be the savage Anderson and Monroe hired me to be. Hell, you’ll probably find Carlson’s behind this, and that’ll finally give me the excuse I need to confront the bastard and finish him off once and for all.”
“But you’re going to Seattle,” she pointed out.
“Yeah… Well, Sam and Terry can handle Banks,” Savage snapped and shook his head to quell the rising irritation. “The man’s a lawyer. They can take an afternoon break from babysitting Anderson’s family and deal with him. It’ll give the colonel an excuse to hang out with his family.”
“While you hang out with yours?”
Savage sighed. “Yeah. Well, I can’t actually hang out with them, obviously, but… I need to make sure they’re okay. I just…need to know. Is that too much to ask?”
“No, it’s not,” she said softly. “Sam and Terry can start tracking Banks. They’re close to Anderson’s family, so it might be a trial to tear them away from their current charges, but I think I can manage it. Or maybe Anderson will have to. You go to your family, kick the ass of any poor bastard who crosses their paths and tries to bring them harm, and celebrate by taking them out for pizza.”
“They can’t know I’m still alive, though,” he reminded her belligerently. “But aside from that, I really like your plan.”
“Why the hell not?”
“The US government wanted me to be dead to the world for a reason,” he explained. “And they won’t take it easy on the people who act against their interests. I won’t put them in that kind of danger either.”
“Wow, you’re really intent on being a martyr about all this, aren’t you?” the hacker muttered. He didn’t answer and simply drove in silence until she patched Anderson in on the other line.
“Hey, Savage,” the colonel said. “I talked to Courtney, and she approved the plane for you. I’ll text you the details. She also extended her best wishes with the situation and said she would join the hunt for Banks herself but she’s too tied up in the Zoo to be able to make an appearance. She has approved sending Sam and Terry in too.”
“I appreciate it, Anderson,” he said again. “Will you spend time with your family?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” the man confirmed. “The sacrifices a man has to make, right?”
Savage couldn’t resist a smirk. He knew his boss didn’t mean it and that he loved his family, despite the real conversations the two had shared during their road trip almost a month before.
“You be safe, Anderson,” he said.
“Break a leg, Savage,” Anderson replied. “Hell, treat yourself. Break two. Not yours, of course.”
“Of course.” He chuckled and the line went dead.
It had been a long night thus far. He wasn’t sure how long he had been at it, but he knew it would be longer. He still waited for confirmation that the contract he had put out for the kidnapping had gone through.
Thankfully, none of it required him to actually talk. He merely waited for an email to confirm it through the various third-party agencies that had sent the money through to advise him of a green light. It was fortunate since Banks was about two-thirds of the way through the bottle of whiskey and he didn’t think he would be able to say anything without slurring. He needed something like this. Hell, if the bottle was finished in less than an hour, he thought he would climb into his car and find a nearby bar.
No. Not his car. A cab. He was nothing if not responsible.
The thought teased a smug smile as he poured more into his glass. The ice had run out a couple of hours before. It merely slowed him down at this point anyway. He’d taken to adding coke from the bar to the drink too and paced himself through the bottle. That had helped. The smoothness of the liquor effectively masked how hard it would hit him fifteen minutes later, so it was better to dilute it a little.
The annoying buzzing sounded again. Banks looked around and narrowed his eyes as he scanned the room for the source of it. It took him longer than he would have liked, which left him wondering if he should take a break from the drink and maybe start on preparations for the hangover he knew was coming. What could he prepare when it came to hangovers, though? He’d heard something about adding coconut water ice cubes in his drink instead of regular ice cubes, but it was a little late for that. Maybe he should take some painkillers once he was done drinking. Oh, right, hydrate. Lots of hydration.
Buzzing? Oh, right. His phone. Fucking phone. Who called him at this hour of the night anyway? he checked his watch and scowled at it. This hour of the night was nine in the evening, apparently.
“Fuck, I’m getting old,” he grumbled and shuffled to his desk where his phone had almost vibrated itself over the edge. He managed to connect it to his computer after he tried and failed a few times to press the accept call button. That accomplished, he cleared his throat, straightened his shirt and tie again, and let the call come up on the screen.
The face that greeted him wasn’t one Banks had thought he would see for a while. He’d assumed the client would handle the congressman from this point forward. The information he had used to leverage the man into cooperating had been provided by her, and the proverbial carrot had been provided by the same source.
“Congressman Jenkins,” Banks said and worked hard to keep the slur from his voice as he leaned back in his seat. “How nice to hear from you again, but if you’re calling me in thanks for securing your re-election campaign, I’m afraid you have the wrong number.”
“I’m not calling to…thank anyone.” Jenkins scowled. From the look of the half-empty glass of brandy in his hand and the well below half-empty bottle in the immediate background, he had to think the man was almost as drunk as he was. The annoyed, anxious tension in his caller’s body language told him the drinking wasn’t in any kind of celebration, however.
“If you have any kind of complaint or legal information you need help with, I’d suggest calling the firm during business hours,” he advised him coldly. He’d suddenly lost interest in the conversation although he’d heard about this sort of thing happening, of course. They’d threatened to reveal his philandering, and if the man had trouble with keeping it a secret, he would turn to his blackmailers as the only ones he could actually talk to about his situation. “They’ll be able to assign you someone who can help with your…particular case.”
“What?” the congressman asked and shook his head in apparent bewilderment. “What are you talking about?”
“What are you talking about?” Banks retorted.
“Savage was here.”
Savage? Oh…Savage. Right. His heat rate ticked a little faster, and he leaned forward. “Savage was there?”
“Yes,” Jenkins confirmed resentfully. “The man broke through my security and put a gun to my head. He said that by uncovering his file, I had put his family in danger. I don’t know what the fuck he was talking about.”
“I do,” Banks blurted without thinking.
“What?” the man asked sharply.
“Nothing.” He shook his head. “What did you tell him?”
“Everything,” the congressman snapped. “What, do you think that because you have some pictures of me I’ll cover for you when I have a gun to my head?”
The lawyer nodded. That was a good point.
“It’s not like I know that much anyway,” Jenkins continued. “Only your name and the name of your firm, but he had some support on the line who didn’t think it was much of a problem. If I were a betting man—and if you have actually targeted his family—I’d definitely put money on him coming for you with a slow, painful death in mind.”
Banks nodded. He didn’t actually agree with anything the man said, however. His mind was already on what he could do to cover his tracks to keep himself out of Savage’s crosshairs. He realized he should have seen this coming, but not in his worst nightmares did he think the cat would be out of the bag this quickly. The reality was that he’d believed they would have handled Savage before he ever had to worry about him.
“Well, I’ll assume your silence is you considering how fragile your mortality is,” the man said finally, his tone resentful. “Just so you know, this is me done. Warning you is my debt repaid in full. You all need to leave me alone now.”
“Yes, that sounds fair,” he replied but still paid little attention to what he said. “We’ll be in touch. You have a fantastic Thanksgiving, Congressman.”
Jenkins tried to say something before the lawyer closed the connection, but he was too slow. Or maybe he wasn’t, but Banks didn’t really give a shit. The man had sold him out—a gun to his head notwithstanding—and he now had bigger problems to deal with than making sure the client knew the congressman’s debt was squared away.
“Shit,” he mumbled and thumped his fist on the arm of his chair. “Well, this fucking complicates matters.”
Chapter Twelve
The plane jostled hard enough to jerk Savage awake. He shook his head to clear it, looked around, and wiped a touch of drool from his lips. While he had said that having the comforts of traveling first class wasn’t important, he had to admit it did factor in. He’d slept in all kinds of places, some of which weren’t necessarily where people usually slept. When you had spent most of the day lugging about fifty pounds of equipment and weapons up and over dunes, you would be surprised by where you could manage to fall asleep. After a while, you simply adjusted to it. Your body adapted quickly to the kinds of stress it was put through and by now, he’d reached a point where he was able to basically sleep on demand. Most of the time, anyway, unless his brain had engaged high gear and wouldn’t decelerate.
That said, the comfortable plush seats in the private jet were a definite improvement to being strapped into a cramped seat in a Goliath aircraft. Dinner had been served immediately after takeoff, and the stewardess had directed him to the bar should he need anything else and told him to let her know if there was anything he needed from her. That was essentially all he remembered of the overnight flight—or seven-hour flight, anyway, he noted when he checked his watch.
When the lingering traces of sleep slo
wly faded, he registered that the fasten seatbelt sign was already on. The jolt he had felt was most likely from the plane starting its descent.
Another thing you learned from spending days, weeks, and sometimes up to months out in dangerous territories in the world was to be a light sleeper. It hadn’t paid off in this case, though, he acknowledged wryly. He groaned, rolled his shoulders, and took a second to stretch before he strapped himself into the seat and adjusted it into the upright position.
The stewardess entered the passenger area and paused before she turned back the way she had come. He assumed she had intended to alert him that they were starting their descent. His mind began to turn and he leaned back into his seat and stared through the window while the plane thrust through the low cloud.
It really did pay to be rich these days, Savage thought with a small smirk. Or have rich friends, anyway. He had heard the story of how Monroe and Anderson had become tangled in this mess only once and he honestly didn’t remember much of it. All he needed to know was that they were in the Zoo together and decided they needed to change Pegasus from the inside to make it an organization or company that wasn’t the epitome of evil in the world, or something like that. Things had merely spiraled from that point forward.
He didn’t even want to think about what kind of shit the pair of them and their friends in the Zoo would have been in had he not been brought on. Considering that Anderson’s home had been attacked with his wife and kid inside, there were some things even a man like him didn’t want to have to consider.
The thought was immediately pushed aside, and he focused on his current situation rather than the nightmare that hovered below the surface of his calm. He gripped the arms of his seat as they touched down. As soon as he was cleared to do so, he disembarked and breathed in the icy evening air before he shouldered his duffle bag. The stewardess told him she hoped he enjoyed his flight. He’d left her a generous tip—generous by his standards, anyway. He wasn’t sure how much millionaires tipped after they had a pleasant cross-country flight.