Headhunters

by Charlie Cole

“We’ll have to get you out to my ranch here soon,” the President continued. “I’m sure we’d have a lot to talk about. Bring the family. We love kids.”

  “Yes, sir,” I replied. I was somewhat aware that I was grinning like a fool.

  “Alright, you take care of yourself, Mr. Parks, and I’ll have my staff call you to make arrangements,” the President said.

  “Thank you, sir,” I replied.

  “I’m going to transfer you to Director Sinclair’s extension,” he continued. “He has some things he’d like to discuss with you. Take care, Simon! Good-bye!”

  “Good-bye, sir,” I said. The line clicked over and I waited. At last Sinclair came on the line.

  “Simon?”

  “Director Sinclair.”

  “I couldn’t agree with the President more,” he said. “You did an incredible job. We recovered all the files and tied up the loose ends.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” I said.

  “Except one.”

  “Except one?” I asked. “What does that mean?”

  “The body of Randall Kendrick was never recovered.”

  I sat down hard on the bench and put my head in my hand. I didn’t know how to react. Anger… disappointment… fear… or worse, relief.

  “He’s missing?” I asked.

  “Now listen,” Sinclair went on, “in all likelihood, he’s dead and his body is entangled under some bridge down river.”

  “You dragged the river though, didn’t you?” I asked.

  “Well, yes…”

  “And you didn’t find him, did you?” I continued.

  “Well… no…”

  “Then I would have to say that the rumors of his death are greatly exaggerated, wouldn’t you?” I finished.

  Sinclair had no answer to that. At least not the answer I expected.

  “Since you bring it up, Simon,” Sinclair said. “There is the matter of Blackthorn…”

  “Blackthorn doesn’t exist anymore,” I said flatly.

  “Exactly,” Sinclair said, but I could hear a smile in his voice. “And officially, that’s the way we’d like to keep it.”

  “Officially?” I asked. “And unofficially?”

  “Unofficially, we’d like you to rebuild Blackthorn from the ground up.”

  “Oh, hell no!” I said instantly.

  “Hear me out now, Simon,” Sinclair was saying.

  Silence.

  “Okay… go ahead.”

  “You are a headhunter, Simon,” Sinclair said. “No one is a better judge of talent than you. You can rebuild the operation and choose your own people. You’ll get full cooperation from any and all agencies involved. But you pick the people and run the operations.”

  “I’m not going out in the field again,” I said.

  “And we’re not asking you to, not exactly,” Sinclair went on. “You chose your team, even a point man to run operations and you monitor activities.”

  I couldn’t say it out loud, not then, but the prospect of it was exciting in its own way. But the realization hit me then… Kendrick had finally gotten his way. Dead or alive, I was taking over his job. He’d done everything to prepare me for it. He’d even created the threat himself, all to prepare me to take over for him.

  “What’s our first priority?” I asked.

  “Find Randall Kendrick,” Sinclair growled.

  “I can’t argue with that,” I said. “I’ll call you back.”

  “But, Simon—“ Sinclair began.

  “I’ll call you back, Jack,” I said shortly. “I’m with my family.”

  I rang off and pocketed the phone. Jess was looking at me. She’d gotten the gist of the conversation.

  “Everything okay?” she asked. I nodded, smiling.

  “Daddy?” it was David, pulling at me.

  “Yes, buddy?” I asked.

  “Do you have to go to work today?” he asked in his little boy voice. I looked at him and Melissa and gave them both a hug.

  “Not today, son,” I said. “Not today.”

  ###

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