Since Dasha’s death though, he knew he had corrupted himself beyond repair. Life held little for him now, with only the hope of revenge motivating him to continue on - revenge against Mac Walker. If Walker and his team had simply carried out the assignment in Benghazi, Dasha’s place within the House of Saud hierarchy would have remained safe, and Nigel would not have been ordered to kill her. The blood of Dasha was on Mac Walker’s hands, not his own, and for that, Mac Walker would die.
Whether he was ever allowed to leave this prison after Walker’s death meant nothing to Nigel. He no longer cared. The only thing that mattered was for Mac Walker to die the death he so deserved. The adviser secured his passage into Allenwood Prison, as well as his placement inside of this solitary confinement cell.
Now Mac Walker stood before Nigel, his eyes issuing their own death warrant on him. The American would not die easy, but he would die – today.
Mac launched himself forward, catching just hint of surprise in the assassin’s eyes. His right palm extended upward, intending to catch the bottom of the other man’s chin. Nigel reacted quicker than Mac had anticipated though, blocking the blow with his left forearm as his own right hand chopped into the side of Mac’s neck.
The blow’s impact stunned the former Navy SEAL, though it missed the pressure point Nigel had intended to hit. Mac struck out with his left elbow, delivering a glancing blow to Nigel’s forehead, enough though to make the smaller man stumble backwards against the cell door. Dasha’s assassin recovered with cat-like speed once again, his right foot striking out at Mac’s left knee with enough force Mac’s leg snapped back, creating an excruciating flash of pain. Now it was Mac Walker who fell backwards.
Nigel was on him in a blur of movement, his fist slamming into Mac’s solar plexus. Mac crouched low to cover himself, fearing the blow might paralyze him. It didn’t, but his lungs screamed for oxygen that his body was now unwilling to deliver. Nigel, instinctively sensing Mac’s trouble, slammed both sides of Mac’s head with his open palms, rocking Mac side to side repeatedly, the blows causing his vision to flash white, momentarily blinding him. Nigel’s lower right palm then rocked upward into the bottom of Mac’s nose, causing Mac’s head to snap backward as blood began to pour down his throat, making breathing even more difficult.
He’s winning.
Very few men alive would have been able to remain conscious. Mac Walker was among those few. With his vision still uncertain, his lungs still crying for air, and his left knee a ball of agonizing pain, Mac vaulted himself forward, still crouched low, with his arms outstretched. Wrapping those arms around Nigel’s legs, Mac pulled upward with as much force and speed his injured body would allow. Nigel’s weight was considerably less than Mac’s, his body lifting easily as Mac threw him backwards into the cell door.
Mac followed Nigel’s momentum, his left elbow catching the assassin’s right chin as his right elbow found its mark just below Nigel’s left armpit. Mac heard the satisfying snap of a rib bone. There was no pause in his assault though, as Mac’s head snapped back and then forward, his forehead hammering into the space directly between Nigel’s eyes.
Mac Walker gripped Nigel’s throat in a classic Navy SEAL compression hold. Mac had modified the move over the years though. He didn’t intend to merely choke Nigel’s throat, but rather tear it out completely. As his thumb and fingers gripped the cartilage outline of Nigel’s trachea, Mac’s eyes locked with those of Nigel. The assassin knew he had been beaten, an expression of calm acceptance coming over him.
“Stupid American, you cannot kill what is already dead, or bring back the lives of your friends. We have already won. You country is…finished.”
Nigel’s voice was a barely audible whisper as the pressure on his throat increased.
Mac paused as his eyes glared into those of Nigel, the two men’s faces inches from one another.
“We’ll see about that Nigel.”
Nigel’s throat was torn out, his body falling forward onto the cold concrete floor as Mac stepped backward and then sat down on the cell bed. He remained seated on that bed with Nigel’s body in the small space of the solitary confinement room for another twelve hours. Finally the door to the cell opened revealing two prison guards, Finn Neeson, and Ella Lerner. They all looked down at Nigel’s body and then to Mac with an expression of shock and horror.
“Anyone in this facility care to explain how another man was placed in Mr. Walker’s solitary confinement cell with him?”
Both of the prison guards shook their heads, saying nothing.
“Mac, are you ok?”
Mac looked up at Ella and winked.
“A hell of a lot better than him.”
XXXVII.
There was no internal investigation into Nigel’s death inside of the solitary confinement cell. Finn Neeson didn’t push for one, not wanting the incident to further complicate Mac Walker’s upcoming case review by a federal judge. The Louisiana senator had personally contacted the head of the federal prosecutor’s office in Pennsylvania demanding a full review of Mac’s case, sending him a copy of the video footage that clearly proved Mac was acting in self defense when shooting the man outside the Henderson, Kentucky truck stop.
Finding a federal judge who could be trusted to oversee Mac’s case proved the most difficult task for Finn. He ended up contacting the original judge in Mac’s case, Judge Martin Harding, to ask him who was currently available to provide an impartial review.
“Not too many of us left in that regard Mr. Neeson. Might try Judge Palance. He and I used to be fishing buddies a couple decades back. He’s a former Marine. I think he’s still down in your neck of the woods – Florida, the Middle District. It’s a federal case, so jurisdictionally, I think you can pull it off getting him assigned. I can give him a call myself and let him know what’s up if you like. Be good to talk with him again anyways.”
“That would be much appreciated your honor – thank you.”
It took over a year after that conversation with Judge Harding for Finn Neeson to obtain the access to apply for a review of Mac’s case with Judge Floyd Palance. He was, as described, a former United States Marine who spoke in a slow, deliberate manner, his voice a deep baritone with the hint of a southern accent. Nearly seventy years of age, he confided to Finn he had followed Mac’s original trial closely, and felt something had been terribly wrong in how the case had been presented to the court by the federal government. He was happy to review the case, and any newly acquired evidence proving Mac’s innocence.
Nearly four months after speaking with Judge Palance, Finn received a call.
“Hello again Mr. Neeson, Judge Palance here. I’m finding a significant amount of resistance within the Justice Department regarding Mr. Walker’s review. The entire legal system is being overhauled, prisons are being called re-education centers now, all kinds of new regulations, sentencing guidelines…it’s just a damn big mess.”
Finn paused, his heart sinking at the judge’s description of Mac’s situation.
“Any way I can navigate around all of this your honor?”
“Well Mr. Neeson, I’d suggest you get the entire case removed from the purview of the federal government. Make it a simple murder case, and kick out the federal hate crime component. That video makes a very strong argument for getting that done. Once you do that, you can deal with the state of Kentucky to coordinate your review. Maybe even get a pardon from the governor up there.”
While Finn Neeson appreciated the advice, he also feared the potential time involved.
“How long do you think that would take your honor?”
Though he couldn’t see him, Finn sensed the judge was smiling into the phone.
“Well, that’s just it Mr. Neeson, I’d suggest you get that paperwork over to my office ASAP and I’ll be happy to make it priority number one on my desk. You’re no more than a few hours away, right?”
Finn Neeson was now smiling as well.
“Yes sir. I can have tha
t to you first thing in the morning.”
“Very good Mr. Neeson, and I don’t need to remind you - we never had this conversation. You need to run silent on this one Mr. Neeson, if you have any hope of pulling it off before somebody in D.C. takes notice.”
Finn arrived at the Florida Middle District Court and filed the simple two-page evidentiary review request with Judge Palance’s office. Six weeks later, a findings judgment was quietly filed by Judge Palance removing the federal government’s jurisdictional authority over Mac Walker’s case file, with orders that same file, and Mac Walker himself, be sent to the state of Kentucky, pending review.
Mac Walker had been an occupant of Allenwood prison for over two years by the time he was quietly transferred to the Kentucky State Penitentiary in Eddyville. Judge Palance ordered that Mac be kept in his own cell while his case review was ongoing. This was not meant as a gesture of punishment, but rather one of safety, as both Finn Neeson and Judge Palance feared somebody within the federal government might still wish to silence Mac.
Four months after Mac’s arrival in Kentucky, Finn Neeson sat in the private study within the Kentucky governor’s mansion as the governor himself sat looking back at him from behind his massive, stained oak desk.
“Governor, you said you’ve reviewed the footage. It’s within your power to pardon Mac Walker and give him back his freedom.”
The governor was a middle aged man of fifty four years. He had a friendly, boyish face, light brown hair combed neatly to the side, and wore a Kentucky University sweatshirt and simple blue jeans.
“Perhaps I do Mr. Neeson, and perhaps I don’t. You seem like a smart man, so I know you are aware this thing is a bit more complex than just me issuing a pardon. The political blowback could be significant. Hell, you might find yourself disbarred for God sakes. We’d be pissing on one hell of big electric fence here.”
Finn felt the burden of years spent trying to free Mac Walker, push him down into the rich, dark brown leather chair he sat in.
Why are these politicians so devoid of courage?
“I don’t think it is that complicated Mr. Governor. If you watched that video, you know there’s an innocent man sitting inside your state prison. You can give him his freedom back. It’s the right thing to do, and there’s nothing complicated about that.”
The governor shook his head as he rose from his chair, extending his left arm toward the door leading out of his office.
“I’m sorry Mr. Neeson, but I have to give this a lot of thought. I’ll have my people let you know when that time comes, ok?”
Finn Neeson rose from his chair, removing a simple light brown manila envelope from his jacket as he did so.
“Sit down governor.”
The Kentucky governor’s eyes narrowed as he looked back at Finn with a hint of confusion.
“What do you have there?”
Finn Neeson gave a thin smile as he handed the governor the envelope.
“What I have there are copies of photographs governor. I have several more ready to disseminate to the media if you don’t reconsider the request to pardon Mac Walker.”
The governor removed the contents of the envelope and looked down at the pictures of himself and three young men engaged in various sexual acts. It had been during a state sponsored trip to Brazil four months ago.
“What is this shit? How in the hell did you get these?”
Finn shrugged.
“That doesn’t matter governor. What matters is that I do have them, and so will everyone else if you don’t execute Mr. Walker’s pardon immediately.”
The Kentucky governor slumped in his chair, sitting silently for several minutes before reaching for his phone.
“Issue that pardon, the one for Walker. That’s right, the one we talked about the other day. Don’t ask me why – JUST DO IT. Ok then…thank you.”
The governor glared back at Finn Neeson.
“Done. I’ll see to it he will be ready for release within the hour. Do we have a deal, Mr. Neeson?”
Finn nodded before turning toward the door.
“You know they’ll come after him, right? He won’t get away. Sooner or later, they’ll get him. He’d probably be safer if he stayed locked up.”
Finn turned around to look back at the governor.
“Who do you mean when you say they’ll come after him?”
The Kentucky governor closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath.
“You know who Mr. Neeson. This country has gone to shit. All of it. They’ll be coming for him and probably you too. Maybe all of us…”
XXXVIII.
Mac Walker lay on the cot of his Kentucky State Penitentiary cell. He was grateful to have the cell to himself. It was normally used to temporarily hold prisoners awaiting transfer, but Mac had been kept here since arriving at the Kentucky facility months ago.
A message had been delivered to him early this morning that his attorney would be visiting later in the day. Mac waited patiently for that visit to arrive. Finally, after several hours, a guard came to lead Mac to the secure conference room just forty yards down the hallway from his cell.
Unlike Allenwood, the Kentucky penitentiary was a bright, clean facility, absent the grey tones and cold interior of Mac’s former prison home. The conference room, minus the thick glassed observation windows and steel doors, was furnished similarly to a conference room one would find in a typical office building. It contained a long, well made wood table, surrounded by several comfortable, steel framed office chairs, with light brown Berber carpet that matched the relaxing, neutral tones of the conference room walls.
Mac waited for several minutes in one of the room’s chairs before hearing the now all too familiar security buzzing sound of a door opening.
Finn Neeson looked pleased, a smile displayed across his lean, cleanly shaven face.
“How are your doing today Mac?”
Mac watched intently as Finn sat down directly across from him.
“You look like you’re having a good day.”
Finn, still smiling, folded his hands in front of him.
“Not as good a day as you’re about to have Mac. Are you ready to walk out of here?”
Mac Walker found it difficult to believe Finn Neeson’s words. While he was well aware of the work to free him, he had come to accept that he may never leave prison.
“You serious? When?”
The attorney pointed to the conference room door.
“Today Mac. You’ll be leaving with me. The governor pardoned you – you’re a free man.”
Even as Mac completed his release processing, and leaving out of the front entrance of the Kentucky State Penitentiary, he found it difficult to fully accept what was happening. Finn Neeson had them walk quickly toward a silver, four door sedan, instructing Mac to get into the passenger seat.
“Why the hurry Finn? You act like it’s a prison break.”
Finn started the car and pulled out of the large parking area onto the road. He glanced several times in the rearview mirror as the car’s speed climbed to nearly seventy miles an hour.
“Just being careful we get you on the road and out of sight Mac. The governor’s pardon won’t mean shit if D.C. finds out you’ve been released before we get you on your way.”
Mac turned his head to look out the car’s rear window. The road behind them was clear.
“And where is on my way supposed to be?”
The attorney glanced in the rearview mirror yet again before responding.
“Like I mentioned before, Mr. Meyer has extended an invitation to join him and some others in Alaska Mac. It’s an opportunity for you to start over, live free, and help others. America is not what it was before you went inside Mac. A lot has changed in the last few years – none of it for the better.”
Mac glanced over at Finn and then looked out at the quickly passing Kentucky roadside scenery outside.
“If it’s so good up there in Alaska, why aren’t you coming with me?”<
br />
The attorney nodded at the question.
“Believe me, I’ve thought about it. There’s others like you though Mac, men and woman being persecuted by this government who need my help. I’m not ready to quit that yet.”
Mac sat silent for several minutes, noting the car’s speed was approaching ninety miles an hour as it sped down a secondary road. Finn Neeson remained very fearful of being followed.
Military Fiction: THE MAC WALKER COLLECTION: A special ops military fiction collection... Page 63