New York Ave NW
Washington, DC
Kane sat in the passenger seat as Katz drove their Homeland provided SUV toward a destination she had refused to share. A chopper had brought them from Langley to save time, though Washington was almost untouched by the crisis, something that hadn’t gone unnoticed by the populations of the cities that were devastated. People were demanding to know why the city where the “fat cats” lived hadn’t been hacked, why the politicians weren’t suffering, and how they could take the crisis seriously when they weren’t experiencing it themselves.
He understood their rage.
He turned to Katz. “Who are we targeting?”
“You’ll see when we get there.”
“And he’s guarded?”
“Yes.”
“By?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes, if you intend to kill them.”
“Secret Service.”
Kane’s eyes popped wide. “Really? Who the hell—”
“You’ll find out—”
“Yeah, yeah, when we get there.” He sighed and reached into the back seat, pulling forward an aluminum case. He entered a code on the small security panel and it clicked open. “Okay, if they’re Secret Service, we are not killing them.”
Katz glanced at him. “You’re so fickle. You wouldn’t hesitate to kill Secret Service equivalents in China or Russia.”
“They’re not Americans.”
“So it’s okay to kill anyone who’s not American?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“What if they were British? Or French?”
“They’re our allies.”
“So only if they’re the enemy.”
“Yes.”
Katz’s head slowly bobbed. “Interesting. So you morally justify killing by what country happens to be on the wrong side of your government’s Friends-Enemies ledger.”
Kane stared at her. Was she serious in her questions? Normally, he would think she was simply pushing his buttons, but with the brain injury she had suffered, was this actually a learning experience for her? He imagined that during her life, there would be few if any she could ask these questions of. Surrounded by criminals since she was recruited, any questions asked would probably have received dubious responses. He might actually be the first moral person she had ever had a conversation with. Could his answers make a difference? Could he actually influence her in some way?
He doubted he could change her mind on an emotional level, but if she were truly logical, did right and wrong come into play? And if it did, would morality and human decency determine what was right or wrong, or would it be the law of the land? If it were written down somewhere that it was wrong, would she obey that? She hadn’t yet, though perhaps she had merely never been given a reason that made sense to her logical mind. “Because” wasn’t an answer to someone like her. She needed a logical reason to follow a rule.
Or, his pop-psychology could be total bullshit, and it would never matter what he said to her.
“It’s not that simple.”
“What do you mean?”
“In a democracy like ours, we have to assume what the government is asking of us is legal, that those who they say are our enemy, are in fact that. If we don’t agree, then we vote them out of power, and if our side loses, we either accept that fact and follow their guidance, or remove ourselves from positions where their guidance might conflict with our personal beliefs.”
“So you’d quit the CIA if your government ordered you to do something you didn’t agree with?”
“Yes, if it meant not killing someone I felt was innocent.”
“So you don’t just kill everyone you’re told to?”
Kane frowned as he flashed back on every face of every victim. “Not everyone. Sometimes, if I can get what I need from a target, I leave them alive. Sometimes. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, those whom I’m asked to kill are very bad people, so there’s no question.”
“And those other times?”
“That’s when you have to make a moral judgment. Do you let them live and put your career, and perhaps your country, at risk, or do you fulfill your orders, and assume that perhaps you don’t know everything, and that those above you do have a legitimate reason for killing the person. That’s why following orders blindly can be dangerous. Quite often, when I hesitate and demand to know why, I’m given a reason that immediately tips the scales, and I execute my orders. In this business, we’re not always told why we’re tasked to kill someone.”
Katz nodded as she turned left. “The same is true in my business. We’re rarely told why we’re killing someone. I just assume they’ve done something wrong with respect to my employer, so I eliminate them. I guess it’s the same as with you.”
Kane shook his head emphatically. “No, not at all the same.”
Katz’s eyes narrowed. “Why not? You’re given orders to kill someone, just like I am. You don’t always know why, you just need to know that those giving the orders have a good reason to do so.”
“You’re missing a critical point, though.”
“What’s that?”
“Who’s giving the orders. In my case, I can safely assume that my government, who is issuing the orders, has a legitimate legal or moral reason for ordering someone’s death. You, on the other hand, are employed by criminals, so you know they don’t have any legitimate legal or moral reason. Automatically, from the get-go, your orders to kill are illegitimate.”
Katz pursed her lips, as if considering his words. “Something to think about.” She motioned toward the case. “What’s in that?”
Kane opened it, removing a prototype weapon he was thankful he had requisitioned. “It’s a semi-automatic wireless electro-shock weapon.”
Her eyes widened slightly, a rare genuine reaction, if Kane was interpreting her nearly inscrutable signals. “Excuse me?”
“Think of it as a semi-automatic handgun that fires electric bullets that incapacitate your target rather than kill them.”
She smiled slightly. “How does it work?”
“Each bullet, for lack of a better term, has its own capacitor, so the charge is self-contained rather than coming from the weapon and traveling over wires.” He held up a magazine. “Each mag holds seven rounds. Just shoot at their torso and let the weapon do the rest.” He loaded one of the weapons and handed it to her. “No killing.”
She nodded, tucking the weapon behind her back. “I can’t make any promises.”
He frowned, knowing it was a statement and not a joke. “So, where are we going?”
She pointed ahead. “There.”
Kane’s eyes widened slightly as he realized where she was pointing—an upscale restaurant. “What? Are you hungry or something?”
Katz shook her head. “No. Our target has lunch here every Thursday at noon without exception.”
“Even in the middle of a crisis?”
She pointed at a black limousine with two flags on the hood, a pair of suits guarding it. “Apparently.”
Kane cursed. This was going down, and this was why she had forced him to wait overnight—she had known where and when her target would be most vulnerable. Katz drove past and turned down an alleyway a block later, guiding them to the rear delivery entrance of the restaurant. “You’ve been here before?”
“I’ve been planning this for a long time.” She pulled the pulse weapon and flicked off the safety.
Kane sighed and did the same. “So this person we’re here to see, he’s Assembly?”
She nodded.
“Like you?”
She shook her head. “No. He is Assembly.”
Kane’s eyes widened. “You mean he’s part of the leadership?”
“Yes.”
Kane’s pulse ticked up a few points as he realized the opportunity this presented. “How many are there?”
“At most twelve at any given time. After the CIA revealed they knew the identities of several of them, the others had them killed immediately. Replacements were then sought.”
“And they’ve already replaced them?”
“There’s always a list being vetted for just such an eventuality. And almost no one says no.”
Kane pursed his lips as he eyed the unguarded rear entrance. “Why? Is life leading a massive criminal conspiracy actually that good?”
“You saw the names. Were any of them criminals?”
Kane’s head bobbed slowly as he ran down the list of those they had managed to identify a year ago, and had to admit, until they had known they were Assembly members, none had been on their radar from a criminal standpoint. They were all known for their money and positions, but all had been thought to be on the up-and-up. “So what are you saying? It’s not a criminal organization?”
She shrugged. “According to you it is, so I won’t dispute that. But they don’t see themselves that way. They see themselves as trying to better mankind. If people have to die to achieve their goals, they are merely casualties of war.” She turned in her seat. “Think about it. Are your leaders criminals because people die due to their actions?”
“That depends.”
“Does it? If your President orders ISIS bombed, and terrorists are killed, is he a murderer?”
“Of course not. They’re enemy combatants.”
“And when civilians are killed during the bombing, even if by accident?”
Kane frowned. “Well, no. They weren’t killed intentionally.”
“They were collateral damage.”
“Right.”
She stared at him. “And when you ordered that missile strike, and those kids ran into the target area, did that make you a murderer?”
His heart slammed and his ears pounded as he pushed away from her, his back pressing against the door as the nightmare of that day threatened to overwhelm him. It was his one regret, a regret he had tried to wash the pain of away with copious amounts of alcohol and women, yet had never succeeded in doing. The memory of those kids would forever be burned into his mind, their laughter, their smiles, and his desperate pleas to abort the missile he had ordered, only to be told it was too late. He had watched through his scope, and though it was an invented memory, could picture every single one of those children torn apart by the ensuing explosion, the pain on their faces, their cries of terror, their horrible, painful suffering.
“How-how did you know about that?”
“I’ve read your file.” Her eyes narrowed. “It still troubles you.”
He nodded as he calmed himself. “What kind of question is that? Of course it does.”
“Interesting. You did nothing wrong. You were cleared of any wrongdoing. So why dwell on it?”
“Because innocent kids died!” he growled. “And if you had a heart to go along with that damaged brain of yours, you’d know that kind of thing tends to screw someone up!”
She shrugged. “I guess I’ll never know.” She checked her watch. “Let’s go, it’s time.”
Kane shook his head as he climbed out.
Time for what?
“I assume you’ve got a plan?”
“Yes.”
“Care to share?”
“No.” Katz strode toward the rear entrance and yanked it open with confidence. Kane followed her inside and found himself in a dingy hallway, the sounds of the kitchen ahead. Katz pulled something from her jacket and palmed it, what, Kane couldn’t see, but he didn’t like the idea of her doing something without his knowledge.
No killing!
She entered the kitchen and walked past the serving station, scanning the tickets of the several dishes already up. She held her hand over one of the them and Kane squinted, not sure if he had seen something drop from her hand. Katz didn’t stick around long enough for him to ask.
“Hey, you can’t be in here!”
Katz beamed a smile at the chef, turning her impressive weapons of mass distraction at him. “I’m sorry, sweetie, but I’m lost. Where’s the bathroom?”
The chef blushed then jabbed a spatula toward the door. “Through the door and to the left.”
“Thanks, sweetie.” Katz wiggled out, and Kane followed.
“You lookin’ for the bathroom too?”
Kane smiled. “No, sweetie, I’m her bodyguard.”
The chef grunted. “That’s one body I’d like to guard.”
Kane grinned. “You have no idea.”
The chef’s face slackened slightly as he muttered, “You lucky bastard.”
Kane followed Katz into the hallway and found her standing by the men’s washroom. She grabbed him and began kissing his neck and nibbling on his ear, her firm grip on his head controlling where and when he looked. Her breath was hot on his skin, and he found himself responding physically despite his best efforts. Two waiters walked by with trays loaded with food.
“That’s going to his table,” she whispered in his ear before clamping down on his earlobe. She freed it, and he was certain she had drawn blood.
“Did you put something in his food?”
“Yes, a bloodroot derivative. He’ll need to throw up shortly.” She pulled him tighter against her, grinding against him. “I thought I disgusted you.”
She almost sounded turned on. It had to be an act. Could a woman with hardly any emotions actually experience sexual arousal? “He has a mind of his own.” He kissed her neck as the waiters returned, their trays empty. She moaned.
Could she?
“Are you ready?”
His distracted mind fought the instinctual urges flowing through him, and he tried to picture Fang, tried to picture the woman he loved, and he once again felt an overwhelming sense of failure and betrayal flow through him.
Dishes crashed, and there was a commotion in the eating area. Heavy footfalls followed.
“Three seconds.” Her lips pressed against his as she turned his head slightly so he could see down the hallway. And his heart nearly stopped.
Are you kidding me?
Their very recognizable target was rushing toward them, four Secret Service agents rushing after him.
“Now.”
Katz let him go, spinning around as her weapon extended out in front of her. She fired, the first agent freezing in place as his entire body spasmed from the 50,000 volts paralyzing him. Kane drew, firing at the agent on the far left, Katz already moving onto her second target. Within seconds, all four were down, and Katz grabbed the target by the arm.
“No, I’m gonna be sick!”
“Plenty of time for that,” said Kane as he grabbed the other arm. They half-carried, half-dragged him through the kitchen, their weapons still at the ready, the kitchen staff raising their hands high as they passed through, and moments later they were outside.
Katz opened the rear door and tossed the man into the back seat. “I’ll drive,” she said as she rounded the vehicle, Kane climbing in with their prisoner. Katz started the SUV and floored it, sending them hurtling down the narrow alleyway and out into city traffic.
“I’m gonna be sick.”
Kane leaned over and lowered the window. Their target stuck his head out and heaved whatever lunch he had managed to eat. Kane yanked him back in. “Done?”
He nodded, though didn’t seem confident. The man stared at him. “Who the hell are you? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
Kane stared back, his heart hammering as he continued to process what had just happened. He glanced toward Katz, watching in the rearview mirror. “Who I am isn’t important, and as to what I’ve done, well, I’ve just kidnapped the Vice President of the United States.”
Katz glanced back. “And Number Seven of the Assembly.”