by Bobby Akart
“You’re delusional!”
“No, I’m right. This war of cultures and supposed social justice and rewriting of the Constitution will end. It starts with taking away the people who pour their money into organizations that stifle freedom of speech, freedom of religion, and suppress the history that made America what it is. This will be a long process, but it has to start somewhere. I say it starts with you!”
Schwartz used his feet to push himself away from Cort. Fear overcame him as he studied Cort’s wild eyes. “You’re not a killer, Cortland. You can’t do it.”
“I command an army, Schwartz. Briscoe, here, is still under my command. He’ll do it.”
“What? How?”
Those were Schwartz’s last words. Cort lifted Briscoe’s right hand, wrapped it around the .357 Magnum, and pointed the gun at Schwartz’s head. Cort slowly assisted Briscoe in squeezing the trigger.
The loud report reverberated off the walls of the lodge as the heavy-grain bullet exploded into Schwartz’s skull and blasted out the other side.
Cort kept Briscoe’s hand on the weapon. Trowbridge’s longtime friend and associate was still unable to comprehend what was happening, so Cort dispensed with the lengthy admonition for the man’s misdeeds.
He turned the gun to face Briscoe’s temple and whispered in the man’s ear, “You betrayed your country. You betrayed your fellow Bonesmen. You took your shot at me and missed. Let’s see if your aim is better this time.”
Cort squeezed the trigger, ending the traitor’s life.
Chapter 44
George Trowbridge’s Residence
Near Pine Orchard, Connecticut
The report of the powerful handgun was still ringing in Cort’s ears when Delta raised his voice to get everyone’s attention.
“We’ve got to go. Now!” he implored.
Alpha motioned for everyone to follow him through the patio doors, and the group quickly responded except for Cort. He paused to look at the two dead men, whose skulls had exploded from the force of the bullets striking them so close.
He snatched the two bottles of brandy off the table and doused both men with the highly flammable spirits. Cort poured a trail of the brandy from the two dead comrades into the fire. As a final act, he broke the two bottles against the stone hearth, causing the residue in each of the bottles to instantly ignite into flames. Within seconds, both bodies were engulfed in fire, as were the bearskin rugs nearby.
“Cort! Now!” bellowed Alpha, bringing Cort back to the present. With a slight smile, Cort turned and bolted out the doors and followed the rest of the team down a short flight of steps into the wet grass.
“This way!” shouted Hayden, who remembered the path. The sky was beginning to lighten as the first sunlight of the day began to reveal itself. Visibility increased and so did the sounds of the sirens’ approach.
The group was all business now, not speaking to one another and moving as quickly as they could through the dense woods toward the west. Cort, who’d become emotional after the speech and the subsequent killings, turned the satellite phone over to Alpha, who made the call to the pilots.
He ordered the extraction from the field near the cave in which Jonathan had been hiding. Alpha advised them to drop down, but keep the rotors moving, as they wouldn’t take long to load up. He also told them to fly northward away from the pickup zone to avoid flying over the responding law enforcement officers at the lodge.
The pilot’s response was puzzling. He said that their flight plan had changed. Alpha shook it off, not understanding the meaning at the moment, but instead focused on leading his team to safety.
Five minutes later, the group emerged from the woods just as the chopper was setting down on a flat part of the ground. It was after six that morning, and visibility was clear. Over the sound of the massive blades, they could hear sirens, as fire engines were now being dispatched to respond to the structure fire.
Alpha paused before entering the helicopter, glancing around the landing zone to see if they’d been followed or observed. Satisfied that they were clear, he piled in and pulled the door closed. Seconds later, the Bell Relentless was racing northward toward the Poconos.
The pilot banked hard to the right before he flew near the Wilkes-Barre area and then continued eastward toward the Atlantic Coast.
Alpha addressed the pilot through his headset. “What’s your heading?”
“Sir, just before your request, we received a call from Mr. Harris,” the pilot began to reply. He took a moment to explain the reasons to Alpha, who then turned around to the group.
Cort, who wasn’t wearing a communications headset, had his eyes closed with his head leaned back against the padded headrest, exhausted and deep in thought. His head rolled back and forth as turbulence shook the helicopter.
He was recalling every second of the deaths of Briscoe and Schwartz, just as Alpha said he would. He had no regrets and was glad he’d added the final touch of burning the bodies. If a forensic team were to be dispatched to the location, it would look like a murder-suicide, fueled by alcohol.
Cort continued to consider the ramifications of what he’d done. Further investigation would reveal that the two men hated each other. Both men were on the run. Schwartz, wanted by the FBI for financial crimes and conspiracy, and as Cort had learned from X-Ray, Briscoe was wanted for questioning in the double murder of his caretaker and the man’s wife.
Cort had seen this before. Setting aside the fact that all county law enforcement personnel were overworked due to the collapse, as far as investigators would be concerned, the deaths of Briscoe and Schwartz were well deserved and allowed them to push several files off their desks.
His mind continued to wander from the lodge and then to his family, who were still at the Trowbridge estate. He considered sleeping until he was interrupted.
Alpha had leaned forward and patted Cort on the leg. “Cort, you awake?”
“Yeah,” Cort replied, forcing himself to become more alert. “Yeah, Alpha. What is it?”
“They’ve routed us to your father-in-law’s place. It was requested by someone named Harris.”
“Yeah, okay. Um, did they say why?”
“He said to tell you it’s time.”
Cort closed his eyes again and gently beat the back of his head against the seat. He took a deep breath and exhaled. Then he spoke under his breath.
“Well, here we go.”
PART FIVE
Chapter 45
George Trowbridge’s Residence
Near Pine Orchard, Connecticut
Alpha and the team hung back as Cort exited the helicopter and raced across the back lawn of George Trowbridge’s estate to greet Meredith and Hannah. There was a misty chill in the air as a breeze brought moisture off Long Island Sound, but that didn’t dampen the reunion of the Cortland family. Cort, who’d spent the majority of the flight from Pennsylvania recalling the events of the past twenty-four hours, didn’t think about his appearance. As he approached his girls, he was puzzled as to why they suddenly stopped short.
“Cort, are you hurt?” asked Meredith as she looked him up and down. Cort’s predominantly white coat had blood splatter on it, and there was some of Briscoe’s flesh embedded in his hair. “Is that your blood?”
“No, honey. I’m so sorry. There, um …” Cort stammered as he struggled to find a plausible answer that was far from the truth. “There was an injury and I didn’t have time to clean up when the call came through about your father. It’s nothing, really.”
Hannah didn’t care about the blood. She rushed into her father’s arms and held him tight, as only a loving child can do.
“Hi, Hannah-bear. I’ve missed you.”
“I missed you, too, Daddy,” she responded before pulling away. “You’re sticky. Let’s get you out of these nasty clothes, mister.”
Hannah’s parents began to laugh because her tone of voice was so motherly.
“Yeah, mister,” teased Meredith. “You ne
ed to get more presentable, Cort. Dad’s been asking for you, and the doctor has urged me …” Her voice trailed off as she glanced down at Hannah.
His young daughter, who’d matured exponentially in just a few weeks, finished her mother’s sentence. She grabbed Cort by the hand and began to pull him toward the mansion. “Daddy, Grandpa isn’t doin’ so well. I was in there when he got sicker, and the nurses came rushing into his room and made me leave. I tried to tell them that I’ve seen people dying, but they still made me leave.”
Tears streamed out of Meredith’s eyes as Hannah spoke. Her child had experienced the worst of humanity in a short period of time and, rather than being traumatized, she began to grow up.
“Well, let’s go see,” said Cort as he allowed Hannah to pull him forward. Meredith caught up to them and hooked her arm through Cort’s. Her tears subsided and a smile came over her face as the comfort of being by her husband’s side took hold.
With the help of the estate’s staff, fresh clothes that fit Cort were procured from the members of the security team. He quickly showered and gave Meredith an update on the Haven, even though he’d spent very little time there over the last forty-eight hours.
She told Cort that her father could die at any time, and whatever conversation he had with him could likely be his last. Cort quickly dressed and led Meredith across the marble-inlay landing that separated the guest bedrooms from the master bedroom suite—a prison cell of sorts that had restrained Trowbridge for many months.
Cort took a deep breath and pushed the doors open, revealing a flurry of activity around his father-in-law. Harris stood to the side with his smartphone in hand, intently watching his boss of many years in case he spoke. The doctor and the nursing team scampered about, checking Trowbridge’s vitals, monitoring the equipment that was providing him life-sustaining assistance, and generally trying to keep the dying man comfortable in his final moments.
“Hi, Doctor,” Cort said, announcing his presence. “I’m glad you reached out to me.”
The doctor’s response reflected his surly mood. “Young man, you really shouldn’t have left. He’s been in and out of consciousness. When he was coherent, he asked for you repeatedly.”
Cort took a deep breath as guilt washed over him. He really thought he had more time. Time to take care of business.
“Yes, and I do regret that. Please give me his status.”
“I’ll keep it simple,” the doctor began with a huff. “He’s dying now. I mean right now. Everything we’re doing is to keep him comfortable so that he can pass away in peace without experiencing a fit or seizure in his final moments.”
“Is he sedated?” asked Meredith.
“No. He insisted against it,” the doctor replied and then paused his activity as he stood to face Cort. “He wanted one final opportunity to speak with Mr. Cortland.”
The doctor stepped back from Trowbridge, and he nodded his head at the medical team to do the same. They retreated to a round table in the corner of the room, where they could sit and rest while still being able to keep an eye on the medical devices hooked up to their patient.
While Meredith flanked her father on one side of the bed, gently squeezing his wrinkled, bony hand, Cort took the side where Harris was standing. The dutiful assistant seemed shocked at the prospect of Trowbridge passing away. He’d been the old man’s constant companion and trusted aide for many years. Reality seemed to be setting in.
“Harris, I don’t know how to thank you for not only being by George’s side in his final days, but for being his devoted friend and ally. I know that he leaned heavily on you, and I can only imagine the sacrifices you made on his behalf.”
Harris managed a smile and nodded, keeping his eyes on Trowbridge’s face, ready to lean forward to listen to any words he might utter. “Thank you, Cort. He’s a great man. Often misunderstood and unpredictable, but that’s what kept his adversaries off balance, a true key to his success.”
Cort studied his father-in-law’s face and whispered to Harris, “He probably was unaware of my admiration for his accomplishments. Our conversations were always very businesslike. When he and, well, you know.” Cort was about to make reference to the falling-out between Trowbridge and Meredith but stopped short, as he didn’t want her to hear it.
“He admired you, as well, Cort. His plans for you are greater than you can imagine. There are just a few loose ends to deal with and then—”
“Two of them are eliminated,” said Cort matter-of-factly, without averting his eyes from Trowbridge.
“Say again? Are you referring to—?”
“Yes, Harris. Both of them. No longer part of the equation.”
Harris’s face lit up and he squeezed his phone as he looked down at the display. “I’ll be right back. I’ve got to make the call.”
“Call?” said Cort with a bewildered look on his face. “The call to whom?”
Harris didn’t respond and bolted toward the doors. He held his phone high over his head as he scurried out.
“What was that all about?” asked Meredith.
Cort looked at her and shrugged. He joined her side and the only family members of George Trowbridge stood vigil, a death watch, as they hoped for one final opportunity to speak with him before he passed on.
Chapter 46
George Trowbridge’s Residence
Near Pine Orchard, Connecticut
For the next few hours, Meredith and Cort remained by Trowbridge’s side. Meredith would leave at times to check on Hannah, who remained in her room reading. Harris wandered into the room for only a brief moment before the harried aide would leave again to attend to some important matter or another. Cort, however, never left. His guilt began to overwhelm him as he thought of the words he’d say to George if he woke up.
The doctor dismissed the nurses and approached Cort. His tone of voice was far different than earlier. “Young man, I want to apologize to you. My statements earlier were out of line and based solely upon my personal emotions, something that should never be interjected into my medical responsibilities to the patient, or his family.”
Cort smiled and patted the doctor on the arm. “You’re much more than that, Doctor. You’ve been a devoted physician who has taken a personal interest in George’s care. We couldn’t possibly ask for more. Besides, you were right. I deserved every word of what you said, and the way you said it.”
“Well, young man, I’m truly sorry, both for my attitude and Mr. Trowbridge’s condition. He and I have had many conversations about you. He thinks of you as his son, but more than that, he believes you’re destined for greatness. I’ve known George for a long time. Since our days at Yale together, he’s never been one to idly pass along compliments.”
“Wait. Are you a—?” Cort’s question was completed by the doctor.
“Bonesman? Yes, young man, I am. George and I have had a relationship spanning several decades. In fact, he was instrumental in my getting a fellowship at Johns Hopkins. My career, and any success I’ve enjoyed as a physician, can be traced back to George’s unselfishness and our kinship as fellow Bonesmen.”
Cort shook his head and looked down at his father-in-law. “Well, I had no idea.”
“This will not be the last of the surprises you’ll experience,” began the doctor, who abruptly stopped. He pushed past Cort. “Excuse me.”
The doctor pulled out his penlight and flashed it across Trowbridge’s eyes. The patient’s lids fluttered.
“Kenneth, I’m not dead. Get that light out of my eyes, please.”
The doctor began to laugh, and the spontaneous eruption of emotion was contagious. Cort joined in, and soon even Trowbridge seemed to allow the corners of his mouth to turn upward.
“I’m here, George. I’m sorry I’ve been away.”
“I know, son. I’ve been listening to you both for a minute.”
“Eavesdropping?” asked the doctor with a chuckle.
“Yes, Kenneth. My old friend, will you find my daughter
and that darling child? I need to see them, but give us a moment alone first.”
The doctor nodded and squeezed his patient’s hand. A look of recognition came over his face. He appeared to fight back tears as he leaned over and kissed Trowbridge on the cheek. He’d comforted patients like his old friend many times.
“Yes, of course,” he whispered into Trowbridge’s ear. “I will miss you, old friend.”
“As will I. Godspeed, Kenneth.”
Trowbridge raised his hand to touch the doctor’s arm before he left. Then he motioned for Cort to come closer so he didn’t have to raise his voice.
“There isn’t much time, son. There is so much to say, so I will as long as I can.”
“You’re gonna be fine,” interrupted Cort, trying to give hollow words of encouragement. He could see death beginning to overtake Trowbridge.
“No, my days are almost over, mercifully,” Trowbridge said. His voice grew weaker, but he could still whisper. “I wish we had more time together. There is so much to teach you. Relationships needed to be built.”
“I know,” said Cort, fighting back the tears.
“You left to deal with—” Trowbridge’s sentence was cut off by a wince of pain.
Cort stood upright and looked toward the door. The room was empty, and he considered chasing after the doctor. “What can I do to help?”
Trowbridge shook his head. “Just listen. Is it done?”
Cort leaned in to whisper, “Briscoe and Schwartz are dead. I did it myself.”
“A rite of passage,” whispered Trowbridge. “I have been there myself. There are no obstacles for you now. Son, you must lead with confidence and vigor. You must never exude any form of weakness.”
“I’m not ready.”
“Yes, you are. You must be. Too much is at stake.”