The Rescue(34)

Gunther stepped into the cramped server room. He quickly identified the hard drive connected to the video feeds, detaching the unit and slipping it in the satchel next to a pistol. A second look at the basic security system convinced him that he hadn’t missed any additional memory storage.

“Ready?” he said, stepping out of the server room.

Justin jingled a set of keys. “Yeah. Let’s get this over with. Will I have to make an official statement?”

“Unfortunately, we have to do the paperwork drill, but it won’t take long. I’ll have you write a statement, then I’ll see if I need any more information. Not a big deal. You did the right thing calling as quickly as you did.”

Justin looked relieved. “I’m just glad you guys were able to get over here that fast.”

“Me, too,” said Gunther. “Shall we?”

He followed Justin to a red, four-door sedan parked at the back of the parking lot. Jay remained out of sight, watching the road for signs of a police response.

“Where’s your partner?” said Justin.

“He’s down the street a little, waiting for the police. We kind of bumped those two off the road.”

“Really? That’s pretty cool. Wish I could have seen the looks on their faces.”

“They weren’t happy. I’ll tell you that,” said Gunther. “Let’s start with the trunk.”

“I bet they weren’t,” said Justin, pressing a button on his remote.

The trunk opened a few inches, Justin helping it the rest of the way. The young man stepped back and motioned for Gunther to take a look.

“Looks empty to me,” said Gunther.

When Justin’s hands started for the trunk, Gunther craned his head forward, like he was examining something deeper inside the dark space. “I need you to open the spare-tire compartment really quick,” he said. “That’s a favorite hiding spot, and I like to put that in my report. Keeps them happy.”

“Sure,” said Justin, beginning to move the keys to his pocket.

“I can hold on to those for you.”

Justin handed him the keys before reaching into the trunk. “I’ve never actually done this before, so . . .”

“There’s usually a pull handle in the back of the trunk, near the seat backs.”

He slid the keys quietly into his pocket before removing a suppressed pistol from the satchel at his side. With Justin halfway in the trunk, struggling to find the latch that didn’t exist, he pressed the end of the suppressor against the nape of his neck and pressed the trigger. The man’s body collapsed, the bulk of his weight falling neatly inside the trunk. Gunther returned the pistol to the satchel, then lifted Justin’s limp legs up and over the tail of the car.

“Were you going to tell me about this?” said Jay, startling him.

“What are you doing off the street?”

“I was starting to get worried. It shouldn’t take that long to hot-wire a car,” said Jay, glancing from Gunther to the trunk. “Obviously you had more in mind than stealing Justin’s car. What are we doing here, Gunther?”

“Our jobs,” he said. “We’re authorized to use any and all means necessary to contain this situation. What did you think we were going to do with Decker?”

“Decker is different.”

“Really? How?” said Gunther, glancing around to make sure nobody had taken an interest in them.

“He’s . . . I don’t know. He’s in the game. I just thought he was the only liability we’d have to remove from the equation.”

“You mean kill,” said Gunther.

“Right. I didn’t expect the killing to expand beyond Decker.”

“We don’t have the time to get into this right now. Grab the keys out of his pocket.”

When Jay leaned over the trunk to dig through the man’s pockets, Gunther drew the pistol from the satchel again and fired a bullet into the back of his head. He hadn’t been kidding when he said he didn’t have time for this. The last thing he needed from any of his operatives was hesitation, regardless of the cause. He particularly couldn’t afford to be second-guessed by his assistant operations lead. The stakes were simply too high at this point with Decker sniffing out the truth about Hemet.





PART TWO





CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Jacob Harcourt cracked his knuckles, drawing the secretary’s attention away from her computer monitor for a moment. He’d been waiting to see Gerald Frist for just over thirty minutes, the trip from his Georgetown brownstone to the Russell Senate Office Building adding another hour to the total, thanks to lunchtime traffic. He knew what Frist wanted, which annoyed him even more. More assurances that the Decker situation was under control.

A simple phone call should have sufficed, but the closer they got to clearing that final hurdle, the more Frist exhibited signs of deep-state paranoia. Ironic, given the fact that his upcoming vote would support an agenda that made the deep-state believers sound rational. The thought almost made him laugh. He couldn’t wait to end this charade with Frist. The guy was barely tolerable under the best circumstances, but he was necessary and irreplaceable at this point. It had taken Harcourt years to find someone like Frist to exploit.

Wealth and power came with the territory in the Senate. There was nothing special about it in those circles, and Frist had plenty of both, but he had another quality that had taken some close inspection to uncover. Senator Gerald Frist, with all of his power and accomplishment, suffered from an inferiority complex. Unlike most individuals who identify with this psychological condition, Frist used it to fuel his ambition and achievement, incapable of understanding that he could never satisfy the deeply buried feelings of inadequacy and failure.