Light of the Last

by Chuck Black

“Oh…oh, I get it. I know whose place this is. Are we seriously doing this? Drew, I told you from the beginning what would happen, and you didn’t listen. Here we are on some super-secret mission of yours, probably to save the United States of America, and you want to stop and stalk Sydney Carlyle.”

  “Be quiet, Ben,” Drew said.

  “Does she know you stalk her?”

  “I’m not stalking.”

  Ben just crossed his arms and slowly shook his head. “We drove out of our way to sit outside her home at night and look through her windows. You’re stalking. Why don’t you just go and talk to her? What could it hurt?”

  Drew shook his head. “I promised to stay out of her life. In my line of work, there’s no future for us. Besides,” Drew pointed to the house, “she has her own future now.”

  Ben turned to look at the house. They watched as Sydney came to the window to draw the shades. As she did, a man came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. Seeing it hurt much more than Drew thought it would. Something broke inside him. He put the car in gear and drove away, back toward the interstate.

  Ben was silent for a long time.

  “I’m sorry, man. I know that has to hurt. Who is he?”

  Drew merged onto I-295 and headed south to Washington, DC. “His name is Ethan Elsing.”

  “Ethan Elsing? What kind of name is that? He’s got to be a loser with a name like that.”

  “Actually, he’s a doctor, and he’s a good man,” Drew replied, then added, “the kind of man Sydney deserves.”

  Ben huffed. “She deserves you and you deserve her. I don’t know why you guys have to make this so stupid and complicated. Are you intent on being miserable for the rest your life?”

  “It is complicated, brainiac. She’s a Christian and I’m not. She won’t love a man who’s not a Christian. I also happen to have a job I can’t talk about. What kind of life is that for her? And there are other issues.”

  “There’s more?” Ben asked.

  Drew still didn’t have the heart to tell Ben about his psychiatric evaluation and that he didn’t believe in his alien theory anymore. The LASOK experiment sealed that truth.

  “It doesn’t matter. Sydney just got her master’s and now has a great guy to make her happy. There’s just not a future where we will ever be together.”

  “If you say so, boss.”

  When they arrived in DC, Drew found the café and drove past it a couple times to reconnoiter the area, then pulled over to the curb two blocks to the south. He put the vehicle in park and left it running. He looked over at Ben.

  “This shouldn’t take long. If for some reason I’m not back in thirty minutes, just turn around and go back to New York.”

  Ben looked a little surprised. “You like doing this?”

  Drew wasn’t sure how to answer that. It would help a lot if he could get a look at the file he was delivering so he could determine if he was really working for the right people. He looked at Ben, then stepped out of the vehicle.

  “Alice, have you decrypted that file yet?”

  “No, Drew. I estimate six hours and twenty-three minutes.”

  Drew walked the two blocks and entered the café. He scanned, not sure who he was supposed to be looking for. The café was mostly empty, and none of the people there looked like a contact. There was a couple at a table near the back of the seating area, a young man with a beanie near the front, and an older man at one of the booths along the windowed wall on the north side of the café. Drew chose an empty booth midway down the same wall and took the seat facing the entrance. He ordered a cup of coffee, then located the small USB in his pocket and slipped it between the folds of a napkin on the table.

  At precisely 10:30, the café door opened and a man in his forties walked in wearing a jean jacket and a Red Sox baseball hat. After looking over the tables and booths, he sat down at a table near Drew.

  He picked up the menu and then glanced toward Drew. “Feels like we’ve got some rain coming in.”

  “Yeah, and with the cold snap, I just hope it doesn’t turn to ice on the roads,” Drew replied, then picked up his menu and started perusing it. The authentication according to the message from Ross was complete.

  The man slid into the booth seat opposite Drew. Drew scanned the restaurant and what he could see outside through the window. His eyes came to rest on the man across from him, and he studied his face. It was a face that didn’t fit with a baseball hat. Seasoned, intelligent, political, confident but fearful.

  Drew slid the napkin across the table. The man covered the napkin with his hand, scrunched it up, and stuffed it into his pocket. He replaced it with another napkin from his other pocket.

  Drew wasn’t expecting an exchange. That wasn’t what the message said, and Ross never miscommunicated. Drew looked at the napkin, then at the man. Something didn’t look right. Perhaps it was the apprehension he saw in the man’s eyes.

  Drew saw two dark invaders flash by outside and his subconscious Validus lunged after them.

  “Do you know who I am?” the man asked.

  Drew studied his face once more, then illumination hit him. “Senator Hanson from Massachusetts.”

  The café door opened and a woman hurried inside, dripping wet from the rain that had hit DC. She shuddered and shook the rain from her shoulders and arms. Then went to a booth behind Hanson and sat on the far bench.

  Hanson looked down at the napkin and then back to Drew. “Tell Ross the infiltration is much worse than we thought. The Patriots are ready, but we need solid proof from him before we can move.”

  Drew tried to fit Hanson’s message into the intelligence he had been gathering with Ross over the past year but didn’t fully see the connection. Who were the Patriots?

  He saw movement outside the window right next to their booth and two of his subconscious warriors exploded into action. Drew struggled—react? Ignore? He put his hand in his lap, close to his gun, just as a precaution, then reached for the napkin with his left.

  Hanson started speaking again. “Tell him we are planning to—”

  Drew heard it before he saw the consequences. Three distinct shots fired through a silencer at close range. Hanson’s eyes bulged just before he slumped forward.

  Drew reacted instantly. He drew his FN Five-Seven and dove to the floor just as another two rounds hit the back of his seat cushion. He squeezed off three rounds at the woman sitting in the booth behind them. She fell out of the booth, her silencer hitting the wooden floor with a thud.

  Two seconds later, the café erupted into chaos and screams. More gunshots rang out as the couple at the back of the restaurant fired a volley of shots Drew’s direction. He rolled, trying to find cover beneath the tables, but one of the shots found its mark. The bullet penetrated Witness and entered his left shoulder.

  “Witness integrity compromised,” Alice said.

  Drew fought against the pain and returned fire, trying not to hit the old man who was hunkered down in his booth and hugging the wall. Drew looked for cover, but in an open café there was none to be had. Four more rounds blasted into the wood flooring around him, one of them nicking his thigh. He returned fire, but it was just a matter of time before one of the bullets would be fatal.

  Drew was vaguely aware of his subconscious warriors in battle around him, fighting dozens of dark invaders. He ignored them and tried to focus.

  He heard more gunshots ring out, but this time they came from behind him, near the front of the café. He knew he was done—bracketed by gunmen without cover. This was his last mission, and his last few seconds of life.

  Remarkably, none of the shots he heard hit him, but instead the woman at the back of the café collapsed. Drew continued to focus on the man who was still unloading his gun in Drew’s direction, but this time the bullets did not impact near Drew, but above him. He heard a thump just a few feet away. The break in the attack allowed him the split second he needed to zero in on the shooter and put two rounds into his chest.


  The entire gunfight had lasted less than sixty seconds. Drew rolled, and his shoulder exploded in pain.

  “Are you okay?” a familiar voice asked.

  Drew looked up to see his friend from the Farm, Aaban Hadad, kneeling down to help him up.

  “Hadad! What are you—”

  Hadad shook his head. “We need to get out of here…now!” His dark brown eyes were fierce.

  He helped Drew gain his feet. They started moving toward the door, but then Drew remembered the USB drive Senator Hanson was trying to give him.

  “Wait,” Drew said.

  He went back to the table and grabbed the drive, wincing as he bent over to grab the drive out of the senator’s pocket as well. He felt Hanson’s neck and detected an extremely weak pulse. He didn’t have a chance.

  Drew heard sirens coming, and he couldn’t afford to be taken in. He had no official cover. Ross had ensured that he and whoever Drew’s operations were conducted for had plausible deniability. If Drew was brought in, Ross and the CIA would deny all connection with him.

  Hadad grabbed Drew and hurried him out of the restaurant and down the street. They turned up an alley, then ran as fast as they could, dodging in-between buildings and streets.

  Four invaders were near, swords drawn. Two were bleeding as well. Drew felt his own blood flowing down the front of his chest, and the pain was getting worse quickly. He had to stop. He leaned up against a brick wall in one of the alleys, the pain pulsing with each breath he took.

  Hadad stopped and looked back at Drew. “We can’t stop here. They’ve got others looking for you.”

  “Who…what’s going on, Hadad? Why were you there? Did the CIA send you?”

  Hadad came back to Drew. “The CIA is compromised, Carter. I’m a double agent. I’ve been Mossad all along. We knew they were targeting specific agents…agents who are key to exposing them.”

  “Who?” Drew asked as another wave of pain shot through him. This one made him nauseous. He wasn’t sure how much farther he could go.

  “The IGA,” Hadad said.

  A car turned up the alley and started coming toward them. Hadad pulled Drew to the ground, and both men leveled their guns.

  “Ben is approaching,” Alice said.

  “Hold up,” Drew said. “He’s mine.”

  Hadad looked up and down the alley for other threats. “The IGA is planning something big, Carter. Our agents in the Middle East have just intercepted intel from the IGA that indicated September fifth as detonation day—not September eleventh like we’d expect. Whatever attack they have planned is supposed to happen at midnight. Whoever you’re working with doesn’t have much time. Here, I was instructed to give this to whoever was going to meet Hanson.”

  Hadad put another USB drive in Drew’s hand. Drew stuffed it in his pocket just as Ben pulled up next to him.

  Hadad reached to help Drew up. “If anybody can do something about this, Carter, it’s you.”

  “Thanks for the help back there,” Drew said.

  Hadad nodded. “I’ll be in touch. They’ll be looking for you. Be careful who you trust.”

  Drew opened the car door and fell into the passenger seat. “Go, Ben. Get us out of here.”

  “What happened? Alice says your vitals are off. Are you okay?” Ben asked, navigating back to the street. He turned north.

  Drew grimaced. “So much for your bulletproof jacket.”

  “Seriously? Where are you hit?” Ben said, swerving as he tried to look Drew over. “And I never said Witness was bulletproof!”

  “Just get me—” Drew began, but he couldn’t finish. He leaned his head back against the head rest, trying desperately to get on top of the pain.

  “I’m taking you to a hospital,” Ben said.

  “No! No hospital. I’ll be dead by morning,” Drew said to make his point.

  “Sheesh, Drew…What’s going on? Don’t tell me you’re still CIA.”

  Drew’s world began to fade. It took everything in him to fight blacking out.

  22

  INTERSECTION

  “I didn’t know where to take him, Sydney. He says if he goes to a hospital they’ll find him and kill him. Please help him.”

  Drew was pale and nearly delirious. Sydney grabbed one of Drew’s arms and helped Ben get him through the door.

  “Quick, get him in here. Who’s ‘they,’ Ben?”

  “They…them…you know.”

  “No, Ben. I don’t know. We’ll talk about this later.”

  Ben and Sydney half-carried Drew into the living room and laid him on the couch. He was bleeding badly.

  Ben looked at Sydney. “What are we going to do? If we don’t get help, he’s going to die.”

  Sydney ran and got some clean towels to put on the bullet wound. Blood had soaked the upper half of his shirt. Sydney grabbed her phone and started dialing.

  “What are you doing, Sydney?” Ben asked.

  “I’m calling for an ambulance,” Sydney said, her voice thick with worry.

  Drew felt better just getting off his feet and being able to lie down. He reached up and grabbed Sydney’s arm, shaking his head. “No ambulance, Syd. Call Jake,” he wheezed.

  Sydney stopped, her finger over the green phone icon. “Drew you need medical attention. You’ll die here.”

  “I’ll die there,” he said and closed his eyes.

  She erased the numbers and instead pressed one of her speed-dial numbers. “I need to talk to Dr. Elsing. It’s an emergency. Tell him it’s Sydney Carlyle.”

  “Sydney…no,” Ben said, but he didn’t stop her.

  “Ethan, it’s Sydney. I need you at my place right away. Please hurry, it’s a matter of life and death. No, I can’t explain…Yes…please hurry!” Sydney knelt down next to Drew and wiped his hair out of his eyes. “Ethan is my fiancé.”

  Drew opened his eyes and looked up at her. Her eyes mirrored the pain he was feeling. “Good for you, Syd.” He attempted a smile, but it transformed into a grimace of extreme pain.

  Sydney’s eyes filled with tears. “What have you done, Drew?”

  “I got in the way of a bullet,” he quipped, but Sydney didn’t laugh. “It’ll be okay, Syd. It didn’t hit any vitals or arteries or I would have bled out already. We need to get the bullet out; then I need stitches and antibiotics.” He grimaced again. “And maybe some pain pills.”

  Sydney sent a text to Ethan relaying Drew’s request, then pressed hard on the towel that was quickly soaking through with Drew’s blood. She shook her head. “Can’t you ever have a normal life? What is it with you, Drew?” She wiped her forearm across her forehead to keep the hair out of her eyes and to keep from wiping blood on her face. She told Ben to go get another towel. “When will you be done with this cloak-and-dagger stuff?” Her voice was laced with anger and worry.

  Drew looked up at those beautiful blue eyes that had captured his heart years ago. “I don’t have much of a choice, Syd, but I sure didn’t want to drag you into this again.”

  He couldn’t read her face enough to know if her expression was one of sympathy for a wounded soldier or pity for a crazy man. He was finding it harder to focus his eyes and his thoughts.

  “Drew…what are we going to do with you?”

  He mumbled something back, but he wasn’t even sure what he said. After that there were fuzzy images of a man looking over him, pain, and voices.

  “Is this the guy?” He heard a heavy voice say, but he couldn’t hear the answer to the question.

  The next time Drew had a thought that made sense, he could hear voices speaking across the room. He opened his eyes just enough to see Sydney and a man he presumed to be Ethan talking. He was a handsome guy with sand-colored hair and a face that belonged on GQ. Though more slender than Drew, he looked fit and in shape. They spoke in hushed tones, but Drew could hear every word.

  “If he’s working for the government, then why won’t he go to the hospital? Didn’t you say the FBI had charges against him once?
Maybe it’s the FBI that shot him.”

  Sydney crossed her arms. “I had to help him, Ethan. He’s a good man in spite of what has happened to him.”

  Ethan ran his hands up and down Sydney’s arms. “It’s too dangerous, Sydney. Now that he’s been treated, we need to call the police. Just by helping him, we could go to prison!”

  “No!”

  “He’s right,” Drew called out. His voice was gruff and slurred. He put one foot on the floor, hoping to find the energy and the will to sit up. “It’s too dangerous. They’ll be coming for me, and it won’t take them long to figure out to look here.”

  Ethan and Sydney looked toward Drew. Ethan was angry. Sydney looked worried.

  “Where’s Ben?” Drew asked. He tried to sit up but didn’t even get his good shoulder off the couch before shockwaves of pain flooded his chest.

  Sydney rushed over to him. “Stay still, Drew. You’re in no condition to move yet.”

  Ethan walked over and stood next to Sydney about the same time that Ben came in from another room. Drew examined the dressing the doctor had put on him. The blood was gone, and the bandage looked good. Ethan must have found and removed the bullet, and Drew imagined there were multiple stitches beneath the bandage. He also noted that his grazed leg had been attended to as well.

  “How you feeling, buddy?” Ben asked. “I told you Witness wasn’t bulletproof.”

  Drew put out a hand for Ben to grab. With a grimace on his face, he slowly lifted himself to a sitting position. Sydney supported his neck and shoulder until he was upright and leaning against the back cushion of the couch. He closed his eyes and let the pain and dizziness fade from his mind for a few seconds.

  “Dr. Elsing, thank you for treating me.”

  Ethan nodded, but his dour expression didn’t change.

  Drew looked at Sydney. “How long have I been out?”

  “About three hours.”

  Too long. He had to move…but to where? Drew’s body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. He couldn’t imagine even having the strength to walk to a car, but they couldn’t stay here a minute longer.

  “We’ve got to go, Ben.”