After the home run of the Ginny Mickelson Senate campaign announcement, Adrian Bright drove straight back to DC to get a few more things done.
No rest for the weary, he thought as he crossed through the center of the Georgetown University campus carrying a cardboard box.
In the box were books and the last of Claudette’s things from her office that she was always forgetting to clear out. His wife was an American literature associate professor. She was taking a sabbatical this semester but come fall, she would be teaching in the Middle Eastern nation of Qatar of all places. Georgetown had built a new campus there along with a few other American colleges like Cornell and Texas A&M.
What a supposedly Catholic institution was doing in a Muslim country with a one hundred percent Muslim student body teaching American literature he had to admit was quite a puzzler. But if Claudette was excited, so be it. The adventure that was their marriage was always taking them somewhere new, wasn’t it? he thought.
He smiled. He was all about constantly expanding horizons.
“Sir, is that your dog?” said a security guard coming the other way as he crossed through the center path of the main quadrangle.
Bright glanced down at the obedient Stanley trotting along at his heel as if he were glued to it.
“Yes, of course. It’s okay. He’s one of the, um, new safe space comfort dogs.”
“No dogs on campus,” said the security guard as he rolled his eyes.
Two minutes later, Bright arrived at the top floor of the east campus parking garage where he had left the Porsche. He had just deposited the box into the back seat and Stanley back into his co-pilot seat when he thought of something. He took the sat phone from the glovebox and thumbed it on.
“Shit,” he said.
There were seventeen missed calls.
“There you are,” Bouthier said.
Bright winced at his agent’s somber tone as he opened the Porsche’s driver’s door and sat.
“What is it? What happened? The target is dead. Tell me he’s dead.”
“The plan has changed.”
“What do you mean? Gannon is supposed to be dead.”
“That was the old plan. There’s a new plan now,” Bouthier said.
“What happened?”
Bouthier told him the whole story.
When he was done, Bright closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples as he shook his head.
Because it was shocking.
“You’re telling me that James killed Gannon’s opponent in front of everyone instead of letting Gannon get killed?”
“Yes.”
“You’re still in Mexico?”
“Yes. We’re about to get on the plane back to the compound. We’re at the airport. They’re gassing up the plane now.”
“Where the hell is Gannon?”
“He’s tied up in the van beside me.”
“But why?” Bright cried. “He was just supposed to enter Gannon into this thing and walk away.”
“Well, he’s been un-entered,” Bouthier said. “I guess the boss changed his mind.”
Bright rubbed at his forehead as he thought about everything.
Changed his mind, he thought. His insane mind.
James Devine had been a personal project from way back, a rare jewel plucked from the nonstop shitstorm of Iraq and Afghanistan. Iron tough, capable, smart, and best of all, blindly obedient. Bright had raised Devine almost like a son, coached him.
Bright wasn’t actually surprised. Devine was a loose cannon all right. More of his calls were unreturned these days than returned.
Devine had been his puppet and an excellent one at that. But apparently, he was more of a real boy now as puppets weren’t supposed to stray from their strings.
And now Devine was losing it apparently.
Bright looked over at Stanley staring back at him.
“What do you think he’s going to do with Gannon back at the base?” Bright said. “Any clue?”
“None,” Bouthier said. “We’re boarding the plane now.”
Not good, Bright thought. The off-the-books jobs were always nail-biters. The blowback on him if things went screwy was not going to be good.
Bright chewed at his lip.
He looked down to see his right leg beginning to shake. His one tic when things got dicey was that his right knee would begin to bounce up and down like a Mexican jumping bean on a trampoline.
“Bouthier, listen to me very closely,” Bright said. “I need you to keep me informed morning, noon, and night. Understood?”
There was silence. Bright looked at his phone then threw it into the back seat.
The sat connection was already gone.