Hidden among the trees behind Colonel Ludlum’s house, Hardy checked the clock on the prepaid cell phone he had purchased earlier—4:07. He held the binoculars to his face. The Colonel had been home for twenty minutes, but Hardy did not know where the man was in the house. Hardy’s surveillance had shown the neighborhood around the house was quiet. He had not spotted any vehicles loitering on the street, and no one appeared to be waiting in the house. I’ll give it five more minutes.
As Hardy watched through the binoculars, his mind slipped to other missions he had been on over the years that required a lot of the same type of surveillance. Most everyone who joined the military only thought about the action—the running and gunning, shooting, explosions. There was more time spent in preparing for a mission. The action was over in minutes. The planning and preparation could take hours or days. One mistake could cost you your life or the life of one of your team members. That was unacceptable.
He recalled his first encounter with the military. He was a senior in high school. One day at lunch, he walked over to the recruiter for the Marine Corps and struck up a conversation. Fifteen minutes later, he knew he had found his purpose. It was the slogan, ‘The Few, The Proud, The Marines,’ that captured his attention. The slogan had appealed to Hardy at his core. Being a loner, he saw himself as one of the few kids who stood out from the crowd. He was never ashamed of who he was or what he did. He was proud, even though all his teachers had repeatedly told his parents he never applied himself to anything, despite his intelligence. Hardy smiled. The Marine Corps had given him an opportunity to apply his skills and he had served his country well for the last twelve years. His smile disappeared when the faces of his men flashed in front of his eyes. He was determined to find who was responsible for their deaths and bring them to justice.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement at the far right end of the house. The curtains in the corner window opened a crack before closing. With a possible fix on Ludlum’s location, Hardy could now move to his entry point and access the structure. He stowed the binoculars and readied his set of lock picks.
Hardy moved parallel to the back of the house. Using the tree line for cover, he turned right and came to the side of the house, opposite of where he had seen the curtains move. When he was even with the house, he sprinted across the side yard and past the garage, stopping at the back door, next to the garage. He thrust the lock pick gun into the door handle and within seconds had unlocked the door and gained entry.
The laundry room was on the other side of the door. Hardy drew his pistol and let his eyes adjust to the darkened room. He cleared every room between the entry point and the other end of the house. Keeping low and close to the right wall, he took slow steps, feeling for objects in his path.
Approaching the last room, he heard a ‘clinking’ sound. Ice cubes. With his body pressed against the wall, Hardy leaned away from the wall, peeked inside the room and stood erect. He repeated this motion two times. The Colonel was alone, sitting behind a desk, pouring himself a drink. His uniform coat lay over his chair. His tie was hanging loosely around his neck and the top button of his shirt was unfastened. Hardy could see sweat on Ludlum’s forehead. The man had taken two sips of his drink, jerking his head toward the window between sips. Hardy watched him pull on his tie, cranking his head back and forth. Hardy holstered his weapon and sauntered through the doorway.
Startled by his unannounced visitor, Ludlum’s right hand instinctively reached to his right before stopping when he saw Hardy. “Damn it, Hardy. You almost gave me a heart attack, sneaking up on me like that. What the hell is wrong with you? You could have just knocked on the door.”
Hardy did not respond. He looked around as if expecting to see someone else in the room.
Ludlum came around the desk and gave Hardy a hug. “It’s good to see you my friend. I’m still in shock that you’re alive. How did you make it out?”
“I told you, I got a phone call. I couldn’t hear the caller, so I slipped outside just as the bomb went,” Hardy threw his hands into the air, “boom.”
Ludlum stood in front of Hardy, gawking. He half-turned around. “Can I get you a drink?”
Hardy shook his head, no. If he wanted to get information from Ludlum, he needed his wits.
Ludlum pointed to the single chair facing his desk. “Have a seat.”
Hardy sat, while Ludlum went behind his desk and plopped into his chair. The two men sat in silence for several long moments. They seemed like boxers, sizing each other up before a fight. Judging from their body language, no one would have known they had worked together on dozens of top-secret missions all around the world. Ludlum was the first to break the silence.
“So, what is it that you wanted to talk to me about?” He took a sip of his drink and set it next to the nearly empty bottle of bourbon.
Hardy shifted in the chair. “What do you know about what happened in that tavern?”
Ludlum shrugged, holding the position for a few seconds. “I only know what the media has been saying. It was an act of terrorism. Everyone was killed.” He avoided making eye contact with Hardy. “It’s a damn shame, all those men being killed.” He lowered and shook his head.
“Well, almost all of them.” Hardy kept his eyes on Ludlum.
“Yeah, that’s true. You made it out.”
“I made it…so did Ruiz and Carlton.” Hardy waited for the man to take the bait.
Ludlum raised his head and stared at Hardy. “What? Ruiz and Carlton are alive, too?”
“They went to the bathroom right before I stepped outside. I was able to go back in and drag them out before losing consciousness.”
Ludlum's jaw was slack. If he had been smoking, his cigar would have fallen onto the desk. “Well, how are they are? Where are they?”
“They’re fine. They’ve got a few scratches like me.” Hardy set the hook a little deeper. “They’re in the woods right now, armed to the teeth and watching my back.” Hardy needed to know if Ludlum was involved and he knew he was not going to get answers by asking. Colonel Ludlum was a highly decorated military veteran, a shrewd tactician. No, Hardy needed to bait him.
The Colonel’s gaze went to the window, beyond which were the woods behind his house. Ludlum’s cell phone rang and he flinched. After he saw the caller, he tapped the screen and the phone stopped ringing.
Hardy gestured with his head. “Go ahead, take it.”
“That’s all right.” Ludlum flicked his eyes downward. “It’s just the office… I’ll call them later.”
“So, you don’t have any information about the bombing. Nobody you know has any idea who would want to take out my team.”
Ludlum’s mind was somewhere else. “You know, I think I will call the office. It might be something important. Do you mind?”
Hardy shook his head. “No, go right ahead.”
“I’ll be right back.” Ludlum rose from his chair and left the room.
Hardy stared straight at the clock on the wall, watching the second hand move. When thirty seconds had passed, he stood and moved to the door. Ludlum was in the next room, talking behind the closed door. Hardy put his ear to the door and listened.
“That’s not enough men...Ruiz and Carlton are in the woods. Next to Hardy, they’re the best…I’ll try, but he’s not stupid. He’s going to know something is wrong…All right. How far out are they? I’ll try to keep him here for as long as I can. This damn thing is out of control…Don’t tell me to calm down. My career is at stake…I should have never agreed to this…” Ludlum listened for a few seconds before jamming his forefinger against the phone’s screen several times, ending the call with no formalities.
Ludlum strolled into his office and saw Hardy had not moved. Ludlum came around his desk and sat.
“Is everything all right at the office, Colonel?”
Ludlum tossed his phone onto the desk. “What? Oh yeah, everything’s fine. Shirley just couldn’t find some paperwork for her…reports.”
Liar. Hardy stared at Ludlum. There was a brief moment when Ludlum’s expression showed he knew Hardy did not believe him.
“So, what were we talking about again?”
Hardy thought about shooting Ludlum where he sat. Not yet. Be patient, he told himself. “We were talking about your involvement in the deaths of my teammates.” Hardy was done playing games.
“What are you talking about? I didn’t have anything to do with their deaths. They were killed in an explosion.” Ludlum’s eyes shifted to the window again and back.
Hardy leaned back, never taking his eyes off his commanding officer. He may have been nervous earlier, but he was crossing into the realm of agitation. Ludlum looked at the window again.
Hardy’s hands lay on the chair’s armrests. He moved his right forefinger toward the window. “Are you expecting someone?”
Ludlum locked eyes with his guest. What does he know? Has he figured it out? Is he here to kill me? Just a little longer and the tactical team will be here. Ludlum’s eyes moved toward the top desk drawer to his right, where he stored his handgun, a Colt 1911.
When Ludlum’s eyes came back on him, Hardy saw a change in the man’s face. Sweat beads had formed on Ludlum’s brow and he had lost the color in his cheeks. Hardy’s muscles tensed and his right hand opened. This standoff had all the makings of an old western movie, two men standing in the street, waiting for the other to make a move. When Ludlum’s eyes went back to his right, Hardy knew the moment had come.
A split-second later, both men were standing, their weapons pointed at each other. “That wasn’t your office secretary on the phone.” Hardy shook his head. “Why? Why did you kill my men, your men?”
Ludlum’s mind raced through his options. If the tactical team arrived in time, they would kill Hardy, but Hardy would see to it he took Ludlum with him.
“Answer me,” growled Hardy.
“All I wanted to do was serve my country, not live a lie. I never wanted to betray her, or those men.” Ludlum had grown weary of the lies and deceit. Putting a voice to his thoughts gave him relief. His actions were in the open. He chuckled to himself. Talking with Hardy seemed like counseling. The first step is admitting you have a problem.
Hardy had two hands wrapped around his firearm. He was staring at Ludlum over the top of the sights. “What are you talking about?”
Ludlum let out a puff of air and grunted. “You still haven’t figured it out yet, have you?”
“Enlighten me. What haven’t I figured out?”
“You don’t work for the Marines or the military or the United States Government, Hardy. You work for me and I work for The Tucker Group. As far as the military is concerned, you and your entire team were honorably discharged three years ago when I recruited you. All of our missions over that time were unsanctioned operations, given to us by The Tucker Group—a private corporation, having nothing to do with the U.S. Government. In fact, if Uncle Sam had ever discovered what we were doing, we would have been tried and convicted for a whole host of crimes, maybe even treason.”
Hardy repeated Ludlum’s words in his mind—Unsanctioned operations, private corporation, treason. He thought he was serving his country, not a private company. “I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true. Our government, the American people, they have no idea what we’ve been doing.” He paused. “Do you remember the mission in Russia six months ago, the one where we took out the man working for the Russian mafia?”
“What about it?”
“He had no connection to the mafia, whatsoever. He was a Russian ambassador, making things difficult for outside companies that wanted to do business with Russia, and we killed him. Can you imagine the fallout if the Kremlin discovered the United States was involved in the assassination of one of their ambassadors? We’d be looking at world war three.”
“How?” said Hardy. “You said it yourself. We didn’t work for the U.S. Government.”
“Do you think that will hold up in the eyes of world leaders? They would all be questioning what else we had done. Our reputation around the globe would be forever tarnished. Anyway, what difference does it make? The people at the top decided to shut the whole program down, and burn all evidence of its existence.”
Hardy’s body tensed. He tightened the grip on his handgun and gritted his teeth. “What difference does it make? You had my team murdered.” He was shouting when he finished his sentence.
Ludlum shook his head. “That wasn’t me. The people at the top made that decision. I had a choice to make. I was either in or out. I chose to be in.” Ludlum lowered his gun a little, thinking of his words. His shoulders slumped and the gun in his hands felt heavy. He was tired of the lies and the deception. He wanted it to be over, done. His voice articulated his surrender. “Believe me, it’s a decision I regret.”
Hardy had his finger on the trigger of his pistol, ready to put two rounds into the traitor’s chest. After three years of deceit, culminating in the outright killing of his team, Hardy felt justified in ending the man’s life. He had it coming. Hardy raised his pistol, putting the front sight between Ludlum’s eyes. He slowly pulled the trigger rearward, but stopped.
Ludlum sighed. “Like I said, Aaron, all I ever wanted to do was serve my country.”
Hardy watched Ludlum’s body drop into the chair. The man slouched and gaped at the gun in his hand.
“Instead, I betrayed her…and those men.” Colonel Ludlum studied Hardy, his protégé. “I’m sorry, son. You deserved better.” He pressed the gun to his right temple and pulled the trigger.