In the eyes of The Company, she was already dead. All she had to do now was disappear and find out who had torn her world apart.
And once she found them, she’d make them regret their actions.
****
Will sat in his favorite tufted leather armchair in his mahogany-paneled study, his feet on a matching leather ottoman as he enjoyed the fire crackling in the hearth and the thirteen-year-old scotch he was sipping.
It was a rare night off for him, rarer still because it was early December and his social calendar for the entire month was overflowing with Hanukah, Christmas and New Year’s functions. Barbara was out at a fundraiser for a local Children’s Hospital and he had the house to himself. He was taking the time to savor some peace and quiet in the haven he’d created for himself, in this wood-paneled room filled with pictures of him and his former teammates in Central America and the Middle East.
Those had been the toughest and yet most rewarding years of his life. They’d forged him into the man he was now.
Outside the window, the naked branches of the cherry tree near the sidewalk swayed in the cold night air, the glow of the streetlamp across the street casting a warm light that spilled through the panes into his study. The lampposts were all decked out in strands of white lights and a wreath with a red ribbon at the base graced the top of it. Their entire neighborhood was festooned that way, resembling a postcard come to life. He loved this time of year and the prevailing mindset of goodwill toward men.
The liberals had all but ruined this country with their bleeding heart policies that had watered down good, old-fashioned Christian American values and sent the country into a pitiful tailspin. School kids unable to say the Pledge of Allegiance or pray because it might offend an immigrant family of a different religious persuasion? What bullshit.
Things had to change and he was going to ensure they did. If he had to use morally questionable methods to do so, well… That reckoning would come between him and God on Judgment Day. But Will was absolutely certain in the righteousness of his path, and his cause. The conservative right had to stand up and take the country back, by storm if necessary.
He took another sip of his scotch from the crystal tumbler, studying the way the firelight sparkled against the lead crystal. He’d earned each and every luxury in his life, having started out in a three-room shack in a tough working class neighborhood of Detroit. Now look at him. Sitting in this beautiful study in Georgetown, about to make his mark on American politics. He was living proof that the American Dream was alive and real, for those who wanted it bad enough.
The scotch burned down his throat and set off a pleasant warmth in his stomach. There was so much still to plan, and several things that had not yet fallen into place, a few of which were worrisome. He wasn’t a patient man and waiting was hard, especially for word about the ops he’d privately sanctioned recently.
His cell buzzed on the massive walnut desk across the room. A text message.
He ignored it for a few minutes, allowing himself the luxury of finishing his drink in peace. Only when he had finished the last sip did he rise and cross the room.
He picked up the phone. The message was a single plus sign, the caller unknown.
But it was enough.
Will breathed in deeply, let the air fill his lungs before exhaling. Rounding the desk, he selected a disposable phone from a locked drawer and activated it. He dialed the number from the text using his other phone, glad once again for his privacy.
“Yes?” a female voice answered. He knew her name but George didn’t know his, only that she was to call him once the target was eliminated. And apparently Jones had been.
“I need proof.” He only hired the best, but George wouldn’t get the other half of the money until she gave it to him and he verified the kill.
A slight pause. “I’ll send you some pictures. I’m shipping the samples to you in the morning.”
“Good. I’ll be watching for the package.” She had strict instructions for handling that as well.
He ended the call and dismantled the phone. In a while he’d walk the dog and make a stop at a Dumpster a few blocks over, behind a row of restaurants, and toss the phone pieces in there.
With Jones and her handler both dead, two more obstacles standing in the way of his plan to reach the Senate had been removed. Soon another would be taken care of as well, when George met the same fate tomorrow. The Valkyrie Project agents were all skilled and fucking smart. He should know, since he’d once been part of the program in its infancy. Will wasn’t leaving anything to chance. Every one of them involved in this case had to be eliminated.
Which meant he had more calls to make.