“I don’t need anyone’s permission to bring in anyone—but there’s not a person in this building who would give me any pushback once I presented the evidence from this.” Osborne pulled a plastic bag out of his pocket that contained a cell phone.
Ryan’s eyes flashed wide for a moment. He pointed at the phone. “I’ve never seen this phone before in my life.”
“That’s odd since it had your prints all over it. Not to mention that when we triangulated the position of this phone and your regular business cell phone, they were almost always in the same place.”
“And yet somehow it came into your possession?”
“We swapped it out earlier today while you were speaking to the press.”
“It’s no crime to have two cell phones.”
“True. But it is a crime to conspire to kill a federal agent.”
Ryan chuckled. “You’re going to be in the funny farm by the end of the weekend if you keep concocting such cockamamie theories.”
“I doubt any jury will believe it’s a coincidence that calls placed from this burner phone were to a phone near the location of our agents, often several minutes before they were attacked.”
Ryan’s face fell. “I didn’t place those calls.”
“I doubt that, sir. Your fingerprints were the only ones on the phone. There wasn’t even as much as a smudge of another person’s prints.”
“I’m being set up,” he screamed.
Osborne shook his head. “No, you’re being nailed as a traitor.” He paused. “But perhaps there’s a way we can make the end of your life in prison a little more comfortable.”
“I didn’t do this.”
“Maybe this audio clip will make you stop acting like a fool and trying to play me for one.”
Osborne tapped a few buttons on his cell phone and a recording of Ryan’s voice blared in the room.
I don’t care how you do it—I just want Banks and Lang dead.
“Just so happened to have one of your staffers under surveillance on a different case and had permission to put a bug in your office. Who knew it would come back to haunt you?”
Ryan hung his head and said nothing.
“And then there’s the death of Senator Thor, God rest his soul. You had him killed too. And for what? His patriotism was too over the top for you? He didn’t see eye to eye with you on the role of the military?” He paused. “Thor happened to be a good friend of mine, a man who dedicated himself to his work. And you snatched that away from him.”
Ryan remained still and silent.
“I have half a mind to shoot you right here, but it wouldn’t be justice. You need to pay for what you did and spend the rest of your miserable pathetic life in prison.” Osborne paused. “However, I can make things a little more comfortable for you.”
Ryan finally looked up and shook his head. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with—or who you’re dealing with.”
“Enlighten me, Senator.”
“There are powerful people out there—people more powerful than the President—who won’t like what you’re trying to do.”
“And what am I trying to do exactly?”
“Bring down one of the CIA’s top clandestine programs.”
Osborne flashed a wry grin and cocked his head to one side. “That’s what you’d like for me to believe, but I know better. This program has nothing to do with the CIA, though it does involved a fair number of people within the CIA.”
“You’re going to regret this.”
Osborne picked up the bagged burner phone and slammed it down in front of Ryan. “You are going to call your killer, tell him that you need to meet. No funny business. If he doesn’t show or runs, I’ll make sure the twilight years of your pathetic little life are the most miserable you’ll ever endure. You got that?”
Ryan grumbled as he pulled the phone out of the sack and punched a few numbers in.
“On speaker,” Osborne said.
Ryan pushed the button to put the call on speakerphone and waited as it rang. It rang four times before someone answered.
“What do you want now?” the man asked.
“We need to meet.”
“When?”
“One hour at our regular location.”
“See you there—and bring me some cash and a new passport. I have a feeling the feds are going to be coming after me.”
Ryan turned the phone off and buried his head in his hands.
“That wasn’t Sergeant Thatcher now, was it?”
Ryan shook his head.
“What was that? I can’t hear you. I need you to speak up for the record.”
“No.”
Osborne slapped a pen down on top of a blank legal pad and slid it across the table toward Ryan. “Write down the address of the meeting place and the protocol.”
Ryan scratched a few notes on the pad and slid it back.
Osborne grabbed the pad off the table. “If anything goes sideways, Senator, I’ll make sure the only sunlight you ever see again is in a picture.” He walked toward the door, stopping and turning back toward Ryan once he put his hand on the knob. “So, why’d you do it, Senator? Why risk everything and try to kill your colleagues?”
“I never meant to kill my colleagues or Petrov.”
Osborne’s eyebrows shot upward. “Then what did you mean to do?”
Ryan cleared his throat before he began to talk. “Our world isn’t nearly as safe as we think it is—and our government is playing fast and loose with the truth when it addresses the public about our security. If we don’t do something about this, our country is going to be overtaken in the middle of the night.”
“So, hiring Russian mercenaries to steal nuclear material from our own facility or trying to kill the Russian president and the entire U.S. Senate with a bio terrorism attack will change all that?”
“It might just wake Americans up from their slumber. They need to know the danger they are living in. If I could pull this off, just think what a terrorist hell-bent on murdering innocent people could do.”
Osborne shook his head and looked down. “I can’t even tell the difference between you and the terrorists any more. You disgust me.”
***
FLYNN AND BANKS NODDED knowingly at one another as Osborne exited the interview room and opened the door leading to the observation room where they were.
“You nailed him,” Flynn said to Osborne as he entered.
“Thanks but we’re not out of the woods yet. We still need to get Kramer.”
“And what’s your plan to do that?”
“I was hoping you’d ask—I’m going to need both of you.”
CHAPTER 67
FLYNN TOOK HIS POSITION in West Potomac Park. Through his binoculars, he watched the body double for Senator Ryan shift back and forth on the bench situated near a paved path facing the water. He tapped his cane a few times and looked around.
Settle down, buddy. Don’t blow this.
He checked his watch. Two minutes until Kramer was supposed to show.
“You ready, Banks?” he asked into his radio.
“Ready to string this thug up and make him pay for killing Lang.”
Flynn chuckled. “You might need to take a number and get in line behind the federal government after his stunt yesterday.”
“They’ll be lucky if there’s anything left of him after I’m through.”
“Just stay calm and focused, okay? This isn’t a revenge mission.”
“No, it’s far more than that to me. It’s personal.”
Flynn scanned the area again with his binoculars. “Remember, he tried to kill me, too. I’d consider that as personal as it gets.” He paused. “But we want to bring him in, not take him out.”
“If things go awry, I won’t hesitate—”
“I understand. Just stay cool, all right? This nightmare will be over with real soon.”
Flynn saw a man walking alone toward the bench. “Kramer,” he said to himself. Th
en into his radio, “I’ve got eyes on the target. Dark jacket and jeans, wearing a Yankees baseball cap.”
“I’ve got him, too,” Banks said.
“Patience, Banks. Patience.”
As Kramer neared the meeting place, he coolly veered away from the bench and toward the water while ambling along the path. The body double glanced over his shoulder.
“He’s been made,” Flynn said. “Don’t lose him.”
Flynn left his position and moved onto the path. So far, Kramer proved to be unpredictable—and the last thing Flynn wanted was to pursue a scared and volatile assassin into a crowd of innocent people.
“Are you tracking him, Banks?” Flynn asked.
“I haven’t taken my eyes off of him.”
Kramer glanced over his left shoulder, then his right. His pace quickened—and before Flynn knew it, Kramer broke into a sprint.
“We’ve got a runner,” Flynn said.
He pumped his arms and picked up his legs as fast as he could to keep pace with Kramer.
“Banks, where are you?” he asked.
“I’m going to corner him,” she said.
Flynn watched Banks run past a smaller monument and disappear well away from the Lincoln Memorial and the heart of the park where most of the people were.
“Banks, I lost him. Where are you?”
Nothing.
Flynn kept running toward the last place he saw Kramer. “Banks? Do you copy?”
Still nothing.
“Where’s my backup?” Flynn asked.
“Coming to you,” one voice crackled on his radio.
“I’m heading your way, too,” said another agent.
“Does anyone have eyes on Kramer or Banks?” Flynn asked.
“Negative.”
“Negative.”
As Flynn rounded the corner of the monument, he stopped almost instantly, the scene horrifying him.
Kramer held a knife to Banks’ throat. “Make another move toward me and I’ll have no qualms about cutting her throat.” Banks struggled to break free but couldn’t. Kramer jammed his knife closer to her throat. “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t suggest that if I were you.”
Flynn held up his hands. “What do you want?”
“I want to disappear and never be heard from again.”
A sly smile spread across Flynn’s face. “Finally something we can agree on—though I think we have vastly different ideas as to how we can accomplish that.”
“I’m warning you—I’m not going to prison—not without taking someone down with me,” Kramer growled.
Flynn watched Banks’ eyes widen, appearing glossed over with the distinct look of fear. “Let’s don’t act too rashly.” He moved, attempting to force Kramer into the open.
“Stop right there,” Kramer said. “I know what you’re doing. I know exactly where your snipers are and how much time you have left. I’ve got all the same training you do. So, let’s take this nice and easy so you don’t lose any more agents.”
Flynn looked at Banks, who winked at him. “Did you think I was still with the agency?”
“Stop trying to stall. Stay where you are. I’m leaving right now.”
Before Kramer could say another word, Banks elbowed him in the stomach.
“Now!” she said. Her sharp jab to his abdomen created just enough space for a breakaway attempt.
Flynn knelt down and pulled a knife out of his boot, hurling it at Kramer. Flynn’s aim was true as the knife struck Kramer’s throat and lodged there.
Kramer’s hands went immediately around his neck in an effort to stop the bleeding. But it was a lost cause.
The two other agents and Osborne rushed up behind them around the same time.
“What’d you do?” he asked, mouth agape staring at Kramer.
“What you pay me to do.”
“I didn’t want you to kill him. We still need him to testify against Senator Ryan. I think we’ll have everything we need to convict Senator Ryan.”
“It’s a little too late for that,” Flynn said as they watched Kramer stop struggling and breathe his last.
Banks looked down at Kramer’s dead body and shook her head. “That was for Lang—and all the others you terrorized as an assassin. May your soul never find rest.”
Flynn walked over to Banks and put his arm around her. “It’s over,” he said. “We got him.”
CHAPTER 68
FLYNN PULLED THE CHAIR out from underneath the table for Banks and waited for her to sit down. She shot him a look and rolled her eyes before putting her hands on her hips.
“I’m fully capable of pulling out my own chair,” she said, stamping her foot.
“I know what you’re capable of, but I’m obligated to be a gentleman.”
She sat down. “How refreshing.”
Flynn pushed her chair in and then moved around to his side of the table and took a seat. He leaned in as he scooted his chair closer to the table. “So, how are you?”
“Probably not nearly as good as you after getting all the national attention for your story on Senator Ryan and that whole fiasco. You’ll probably end up with a Pulitzer before it’s all said and done.”
Flynn held his hands up. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. I’m just pleased that the story has received a lot of attention because people deserve to know the truth.”
She nodded and smiled.
Flynn leaned in again. “So, how are you really?”
She shrugged. “Good—I suppose. I haven’t had any nervous breakdowns on my own, though my new partner has been giving me fits.”
“I can’t believe it’s already been two months since we got justice for Lang.”
She shook her head and pursed her lips. “Justice isn’t always satisfying.”
“No, but it can bring closure.”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever get over Lang’s death. He was such a good partner. We worked well together, but I just don’t know if I’ll ever find a good partner like that ever again.”
Their waiter came to their table and poured a pair of complimentary glasses of wine.
Flynn picked up his glass. “I think we need to toast something.”
“Such as?”
“How about to Staff Sgt. Thatcher—the man who brought the twisted actions of Senator Ryan to light—and to Dr. Watson—the woman who created the antidote to save all the senators in our crooked capital.”
“Here, here,” she said, tapping her glass to his.
“Also to Dr. Watson and Staff Sgt. Thatcher on their recent engagement. I can’t believe it only took them three months to decide they wanted to marry after this disaster.”
“Sometimes adversity draws people together.”
Flynn nodded. “Very astute observation.”
“Well, that’s a good start for our toasts.”
Flynn’s eyebrows shot upward. “A good start? Do you have anything else?”
“Osborne offered me a job.”
“At the CIA?”
She nodded.
“Are you going to take it?”
“I haven’t decided yet, but I don’t think it would be wise for me to go back to the bureau. I may have burned too many bridges over there with what I did on that case.”
“Makes sense. Did he tell you what you’d be doing?”
“Working on some special cases.” She paused. “He said we may even work together on some future cases that you consult on.”
Flynn picked up his glass and held it suspended in the air until Banks could grab hers and clink them together for another toast. “And you thought you’d never find another great partner again.”
“You’ll have to prove me wrong—and it won’t be easy.”
Flynn smiled. “I love a good challenge.”
THE END
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; Acknowledgments
GETTING TO WRITE a story that practically started in my backyard proved to be more fun—and challenging—than I thought possible. However, I still needed to lean on the assistance and expertise of plenty of people in cobbling together this tale.
For starters, without readers who have found my work—and enjoyed it—I never would have trudged on with the arduous task of writing novels. Just knowing that you’re out there, enjoying the diversions created by my books, inspires me to press on and work diligently to refine my craft.
The good people at The Experimental Breeder Reactor I in eastern Idaho helped me gain a better understanding of the terrain and environment from which this story launched.
David Doeringsfeld, the port manager at the Port of Lewiston, was patient in explain the inner workings of port life along the river at Idaho’s only seaport.
Kelly Stimpert and some of her colleagues at the CDC equipped me on how to write intelligently (I hope) about the creation of vaccines and antidotes.
As with almost all my writing projects, Jennifer Wolf’s editing helped make this a better story. Without her, this novel might be more confusing, not to mention full of female characters wearing horribly matched clothes.
Dan Pitts crafted and conceived another brilliant cover.
Bill Cooper continues to produce stellar audio versions of all my books — and have no doubt that this will yield the same high-quality listening enjoyment.
And last, but certainly not least, I must acknowledge my wife and her gracious soul for allowing me to once again immerse myself in a world of my own making while I wrote this story, one I hope you truly enjoyed.
About the Author
JACK PATTERSON is a national award-winning journalist and award-winning author living in the Pacific Northwest. He first began his illustrious writing career as a sports journalist, recording his exploits on the soccer fields in England as a young boy. Then when his father told him that people would pay him to watch sports if he would write about what he saw, he went all in. He landed his first writing job at age 15 as a sports writer for a daily newspaper in Orangeburg, S.C. He later earned a degree in newspaper journalism from the University of Georgia, where he took a job covering high school sports for the award-winning Athens Banner-Herald and Daily News.
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