Cambridge, Massachusetts
Charles Hindershot Ellenshaw III walked in the back garden of one of the most beautiful estates he had ever been in. Even with the evening clouds starting to roll in over the skies of New England Charlie was still amazed at the sense of peace the magnificent mansion brought to his state of mind. He was greeted by many young people who strolled the grounds the same as himself. Always polite, always cordial. It was almost as if he weren’t being held against his will but an invited, respected guest.
Charlie spied a bench that had just been vacated by a large man in his early twenties that had been reading a book while the last of the sun vanished. As the boy walked by Ellenshaw saw that he was reading ‘Paradise Lost.’ The typical story of good versus evil and one that Charlie found relatable to the few words of explanation he received from staff and even Elsbeth Barlow. Charlie sat at the bench and watched the mansions staff roam here and there as they prepared for the new guests to arrive. Thus far he had counted over a hundred different people either lived, worked or studied at the estate. He figured he should have something to report to the Colonel when the expanded field team arrived.
Charlie relaxed and removed his wire-rimmed glasses and closed his eyes in thought as the smell of rain became more prominent. He heard movement to his left and opened his eyes. The blur was of two figures walking toward him. One medium and one extremely small. He replaced his glasses and then sped Elsbeth Barlow and walking beside her was Mahjtic Tilly. He watched. Matchstick was still disoriented and still had not spoken much since his revival from the grave. Although questioned lightly by him the small alien had not much to say. Sometimes when Ellenshaw spoke Matchstick would look at him as if he really didn’t know who his old friend was. Late this afternoon when Matchstick was dozing in the wonderful prison Elsbeth claimed was their bedroom, he could have sworn Matchstick was crying in his sleep. He was concerned that the alien’s memory of Gus and the many others that died with Matchstick that night came to him only in dream-like phases. Charlie worried about the mental strain that was being applied on an already taxed state. Charlie smiled and moved down the bench and then patted the wooden seat next to him, inviting Matchstick to sit. Elsbeth assisted him onto the bench. Then she gave the small alien a peanut butter cup.
“Well, Slim, have you been spying on my pupils enough to give your Colonel Collins a precise report?” She smiled and then eased her old body onto the bench beside Matchstick.
“Is that what you think we do, spy?”
Elsbeth cackled. It wasn’t her normal laugh as it seemed to have a twinge of sadness to it. “Well, if I were in your shoes, I would be doing just that I imagine. But then you people have different priorities than we.”
“Miss Barlow, how is it you know more about us than ninety-nine-point nine percent of the people in the country?”
Elsbeth rubbed her arthritic hands together and looked at Ellenshaw. “Well, Slim, old Elsbeth has been around for more years than this body likes to say. I know most of what happens around the world. Politicians really cannot keep secrets. Slim, do you think my kids here do nothing but cast spells and chant rhythmic tunes to alter the very properties of physics?”
“Well, yes, that’s exactly what I think. You have admitted as much. Through demonstration and speech, you have told me so.”
Elsbeth removed a small bottle from her flower-print house dress. She shook out two pills and swallowed them.
“When they are finished with their studies, they are sent out into the world.”
“You set them free to alter normal people and their lives?”
“Slim, we live by a simple rule, we are never to change the course of human history for selfish purposes.”
“That’s why when we were losing the war with the Greys you didn’t lift a finger to assist?”
“Oh, once the invasion was complete, we would have fought just as hard as anyone else. We all knew from past experience that there are some very good people in the world. Let’s just say we bided our time.” Elsbeth placed her pain medication in her dress pocket and then smiled over at Charlie while rubbing Matchsticks bald head. “After eight thousand years Slim, the doctors tell me I’m finally dying. I don’t really know how to feel about that. Since the time of Rome, I thought I was ready to let go. Now I think I’m scared.”
Charlie leaned forward as a freshening breeze washed over his stringy white hair. “Miss Barlow, what are you?”
“I think you’ve pretty much guessed I’m not one of you.”
“Yeah, I only have a doctorate from Stanford, but I pretty much deduced that much.”
Elsbeth reached over and pulled Matchstick onto her lap. Charlie could see that the arthritic pain medication was helping her. She again rubbed Matchstick’s bulbous head. “To make a long story short, I was sent here by this little guy’s race. Covertly. I wasn’t of their world, but it was my people who, close to five hundred thousand years ago, taught my enemy everything he knows. Since then,” she handed Matchstick another peanut butter cup, “it’s been our duty to watch for his return.” She looked past a chewing Matchstick and fixed Charlie with her blue eyes. “And Asmodius has indeed returned to place claim on a world the master of lies believes he created.” She smiled at Matchstick. “Does your mind recall the tales my little friend as told by your people?”
Matchstick closed his almond shaped eyes as if in deep thought. He shook his head negatively.
“Well, when your friends arrive, we’ll see what we can do to get you to remember the ancient times.” She tapped his green head with a fingertip, making him flinch. “It’s in there somewhere.”
“If you and your power can’t stop this Asmodius, what can little Matchstick do?”
Elsbeth helped Matchstick climb down from the bench. “You go wash up for our company, get some of that chocolate off your face.”
Matchstick looked at Charlie and Ellenshaw nodded his head that he should go inside.
Elsbeth made sure Matchstick was out of hearing range. She turned to Charlie. “Slim, Matchstick and his kind are the only beings in the universe that cannot be mentally manipulated by the Greys. Matchstick and all of his ancestors have a built-in immunity to the games the Grey’s play. This is why they could never be trusted and millions of years after they built the Grey’s society, they were enslaved.”
“And Matchstick, how did you know he wasn’t dead?”
“I heard his faint heartbeat when it started up again. When I sleep, I wander the world. Not just this world, but also others. If I could explain it Slim I would. Needless to say, when I saw that our little onion headed friend was still alive, I knew we had a fighting chance at stopping Asmodius.”
“Then why do you look so down?” Charlie asked.
“Matchstick’s death experience has changed him. You can see it. I’ve watched you with him.”
Charlie leaned back on the bench. “It’s like a part of him didn’t come back from the grave.”
“Like Pet Semetary?” Elsbeth asked in all seriousness, and then cackled heartily when she saw Charlie’s shocked expression. “I saw that movie. Written by a New Englander.”
Charlie was shocked that someone like Elsbeth Barlow knew who Stephen King was but decided to skip the subject of magical animals coming back from the dead. The Matchstick event was enough for him.
“Well, Slim, when your friends arrive, I hope we can go into that bulbous little green noggin’ and see if we can’t find what that boy lost while visiting the land of the dead. If not, Asmodius will take back what it thinks is his and his alone.”
Elsbeth stood and started walking away. She stopped and turned. “I took the liberty of supplying you with a bit of formal wear for this evening, Slim, I hope it fits. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to see if dinner is almost ready. I suspect your friends may be hungry after their travels. See you at dinner.”
Charlie watched Elsbeth leave and continued sitting as the first raindrops started falling. He looked into the dark skies and he got the cold chills. When he shivered his gaze went up to the third-floor window where he and Matchstick shared a room. The small alien was watching him from the window. Then he was gone. Charlie was wondering if he had seen him at all. He stood up and as the rain started coming down harder his memory sharpened. He could have sworn he saw another form standing behind his friend. A large form. Ellenshaw shook his head knowing then that his mind was just playing tricks on him.
“Shouldn’t have done all of that stuff in ’69, I should have known it would catch up with me.”
Jack was on his cell phone with Sarah as she gave her new husband a status report on Alice. Thus far the amazing Mrs. Hamilton was still comatose but alive. He tried to keep the conversation short and to the point as he felt Henri’s eyes on him. Then Sarah offered up a worrisome addition to her report.
“Jack, we have a major problem.”
Collins closed his eyes, not needing any additional distractions.
“Niles and I assume Master Chief Jenks is on his way to Boston. We tried to stop him, but he threw a resignation letter at Niles and left the hospital after arriving from his field trip to France. We don’t know how he got word about Virginia, but he did. We suspect Xavier may have dropped the ball.”
“Why Doctor Morales?” Jack asked, rubbing his eyes as the pain began to creep into his temples.
“Because when he quit, he armed himself and then took Xavier and Anya with him. He may have gone insane over Virginia’s murder. With Morales with him, he knows where your team is Jack.”
“I hate to do this but call Director Compton and let’s get Wilkerson at the FBI to arrest the Master Chief. Make up a charge. Explain its for his own safety, but we don’t want him or his ‘guests’ hurt. Explain to agent Wilkerson that it wouldn’t make me happy if something happened to them.” Jack closed the cell phone and then turned his head. He saw Carl and explained.
“Shit, Jack, with Jenksy on the loose, that man could kill us all and we wouldn’t even see him coming.”
“One mess at a time,” Collins said as his headache had increased tenfold.
“Well, here we are,” Ryan said from behind the steering wheel of the large van as it pulled off the road.
The large entranceway looked as if it could have fronted any fancy New England boarding school. The cast-iron scrolling across the gate was more medieval than the three hundred years of the mansion’s history could rightly explain. The trees lining that drive hid the sprawling grounds as Ryan pulled to the gate and stopped. On either side of the drive men appeared. Two on each. The men inside listened to the rhythmic beat of the windshield wipers as they cleared the glass of rainwater.
“We have concealed weapons,” Carl said as he spied the two on the right. “Small automatics, probably Uzi’s.”
“Same here,” Farbeaux echoed from the left.
“Henri, you’re the resident bad guy here, smell a rat?” Jack asked, not kidding the Frenchman in the least.
“If I were to ambush an arriving party, I would have done it as we rounded the ten bends in the dense woods surrounding the property, not at my own front gate.”
“Point taken,” Jack said, somewhat relieved as he himself saw traps everywhere. But Henri was far more sensible in being bad.
“Does the fact that men with automatic weapons having our friends bother you much?” Mendenhall asked.
Jack saw Tram in the third row of seats back, flinch as he quickly scanned the area in the front of the closed gate.
“Colonel, the decorative rocks lining the drive just ahead.”
“What about them Lieutenant?” Collins asked.
“Claymore mines.”
“You see Will, there’s always something more to be worried about.”
“Yeah, the Claymores relax me far more,” Mendenhall rolled his eyes.
Ryan rolled down the window as the first man, seemingly unaware of the drenching he and his fellow guards were taking, stepped up to the window.
“Which one is Collins?”
“That’s Colonel Collins to you, Sparky,” Ryan said as Jack shot the naval aviator an angry look.
“I’m Collins. Why the heavy artillery?”
“It’s a big estate sir. We would rather be a little cautious than caught off guard. This is New England after all.”
“Yeah, those Red Sox fans can be a handful.”
Farbeaux glanced at Will. The Frenchman was starting to feel the vibes of revenge for Doctor Pollock’s and the security men’s murders, and Alice Hamilton’s assault, starting to bleed through Collins and his men. He also knew that going into the unknown, this vengeance could get them all killed if these men didn’t get their feelings under control.
“Gentlemen, may I suggest we all relax,” Henri said.
“I believe we are expected,” Collins said before anyone else could pop off.
“Yes, sir. Just follow the drive, I don’t believe even you guys can miss the house.”
“Why you son of a—”
“Commander!” Jack said to Ryan in warning.
“Name is Randall, Colonel. Just have your boy here follow the drive. My advice is not to stop until you reach the house.”
Collins eyed Ryan until he turned away from the security man. Jason rolled up the window and fumed and cursed as the guard named Randall smiled.
The gate started to open and the van drove through.
“Tram, give me a count on any hidden surprises that you see.”
Van Tram with his sharp eyes had already counted over forty Claymore mines disguised as decorative rocks.
“Whoever their enemy is, they have these people scared to death,” Mendenhall said as his head was also on a swivel for the entire half a mile it took to reach the sprawling mansion.
“Okay, how can this place exist in New England without the property being on every television show the country over. Lifestyles of the Rich and Worthless,” Ryan said as he bent down to see the five levels of house. Towers of masonry rose high above the ancient trees as they stood guard over the property. Gargoyles that looked as if they could have once adorned the steeples of Notre Dame watched the van roll to a stop underneath a portico that rivaled the great palaces of Europe.
Another man was waiting for them. This one wasn’t armed as far as they could tell. He was dressed in a houseman’s jacket and white gloves.
As Ryan opened the door and stepped out, the man, who looked young enough to be a college student, greeted them. The boy was shocked when the woman, Millicent Krensky, the ex-navy pilot who had delivered the message to the Group, was thrust into the butler’s arms. Jack stepped up to the man and woman.
“Here’s your delivery girl,” he said. “Now, we need to see Miss Barlow and we don’t have much time for her flair of the dramatic.”
“But that’s what we do here, Colonel. It’s much more exciting than getting straight to it. After all, we’ve been expecting this war for seven and a half thousand years.”
Jack, Carl, Will, Henri, Tram and Ryan looked up the large set of stone steps and the silver haired woman waiting at the top near the open doors of the mansion surrounded on either side by ten very large men in black tuxedos.
“Where is Doctor Ellenshaw and Matchstick?” Ryan asked, jumping the gun and not caring about the angered look from Collins.
Elsbeth Barlow turned to the man to her right. He whispered in her ear and she nodded.
“We have them boiling in a large pot at the moment.” She crooked her arthritic fingers into claws and leaned forward at the group of guests. “Double, double, toil and trouble, fire burn and caldron bubble!” Elsbeth Barlow cackled like a mother hen laying an egg. “To quote Shakespeare anyway.”
By the look on Jack’s face Elsbeth knew the man wasn’t amused by her small joke.
“For a man who will more than likely be dead in the next few days, you seem to be a serious kind of fella. I was just kidding, I wanted to set the mood. We witches have a reputation to adhere to. It’s a union thing.”
Millicent Krensky greeted Elsbeth with a hug and then turned and gave the men below a withering look.
“Glad to see they didn’t take out my misdeeds on you, my dear.”
“No, they were the models of decorum,” the pilot said as she stepped inside the house. “Just firm believers in science, not fact.”
“Colonel forgive me. I am a terrible host at times. Slim…or…uh, Professor Ellenshaw and Matchstick are dressing for dinner. Please, gentlemen, my kids will show you where you can wash-up. We have a nice selection of formal wear available. We like to dress for dinner.”
“Kids?” Mendenhall said as he eyed the very large ‘kids’ standing next to Barlow as the new arrivals started up the massive steps.
“Ain’t this the shit,” Ryan said. “Welcome to Hogwarts School of Magic.”
Ontario International
Airport, Ontario, California
In the late afternoon, the step van drove into the long-term parking lot of the smaller of the Los Angeles area airports. The kidnapping of Major Anya Korvesky and computer whiz Xavier Morales had been the easy part for Master Chief Jenks as he simply waited for the duo to leave the Event Group complex through gate number two when they signed out to visit Alice Hamilton in the hospital. Now, once out of Nevada and with surmising the entirety of the federal government was searching for them, the Master Chief knew the hard part was now getting them into the air. He waited behind the wheel for a very special engineering student to meet him in the out of the way airport.
“Master Chief, although we can’t know how you feel and would never assume to, we empathize with you. We loved Virginia too. You know if anyone will bring whoever did this to justice, we will. The Colonel is working on it as we sit here.”
The Master Chief was silent as he adjusted the rearview mirror to see a handcuffed Anya Korvesky. Next to her with his wheelchair chained to the sidewall of the step van was Xavier Morales who had the good sense to be silent as Anya pled their case. He was frightened because even though his reputation was one of arrogance, Xavier had also read the Master Chief’s file and knew that this was the man responsible for training Captain Everett and numerous other extreme killers in the elite U.S. Navy SEALs.
“Master Chief, you know Virginia would never want this.”
“Who said Virginia would want anything. This is me. Not her.”
Anya exchanged looks with Xavier and both looks saw a man in the Master Chief who was slowly dying inside.
“I could kick your ass for telling Jenks to stay in Paris.”
“Major, I thought I was helping,” Xavier replied, knowing that the Master Chief was no fool. Quite the opposite as facts go. He may be a gruff cigar chomping navy man but was also one of the brightest mechanical engineers the military has ever produced. Morales knew he should have assumed Jenks would figure out something back home was wrong.
“You two need to be quiet now.”
Anya looked up and saw the Master Chief’s dark eyes watching them from the front of the van. His glare was withering. She knew the man’s history as well as Xavier and knew he had a deep-down hatred for the federal government and had never fully trusted his own department. Every member in the Group knew the Master Chief tolerated 5656 because of his love of Virginia. Everyone knew it was Virginia who always calmed Jenks down and their relationship was more like beauty and the beast than true love. But whatever it was, Jenks was taking her loss personally and may go as far as blaming the hierarchy of the department for her murder.
“Jenks, would it help if I told you the Colonel and Mister Everett is meeting with what could turn out to be the people responsible for Virginia’s murder?”
Jenks didn’t say a word as he stood and squeezed his bulk between the console and passenger seat and went into the back of the van. He was silent as he pulled a strip of duct tape and placed it over Anya’s mouth. He did the same to Xavier. He looked at them both.
“I like both you two. I respect what you’re trying to do. But if you try to stop me from getting to the pukes that…that…,” he choked up and they could see him struggle with his next words. “I won’t hesitate going through you, the Colonel, or even Toad to do it. Now shut up.”
They watched Jenks return to the front of the van. He started to light a cigar and then thought better of it and tossed it from the window. Anya remembered the last time she had seen Jenks and Virginia together. She had admonished him as she always did about his nasty habit of chewing on the cigar instead of smoking it. She was constantly teasing the Master Chief for using the cigar as a prop or a tool to scare people that intimidated him. Now she could see Jenks was feeling guilty about his bad habit. Anya felt the tears threaten to appear as it had several times since Jenks had snatched both of them from the Gold City Pawn Shop in downtown Las Vegas.
Jenks checked his watch and then seemed satisfied about something. He reached into the glove box to his right and brought out a Beretta nine-millimeter and chambered a round. He reached back and placed it in his pants as he started the van.
Unbeknownst to Jenks, Xavier had been working diligently and silently on his wheelchair. The spokes were made of steel wire and he had managed to pop free the top portion of one and had been working the steel back and forth and had finally managed to break the top six inches from it. He just prayed the Major was as good as her file said she was in the realm of survival, escape and evasion, as the Mossad was rumored to be. With his chair chained and his left hand cuffed to the chair, he lightly tapped on the wheel to get Anya’s attention. She turned and saw the piece of steel and nodded as Xavier managed to drop into her free hand. Jenks was concentrating on the road as Anya received what she hoped would be their version of the old file in the cake escape plan.
Jenks spent the next five minutes negotiating the airport’s private facilities. Making sure to avoid the many roving patrols by the uniformed security guards, he finally made it to the gate where his meeting with a young grad student from San Diego State University had been arranged. He relaxed when he saw the battered thirty-year old Camaro waiting. As he pulled up, he saw that the student’s car was empty which was not according to his arrangements. Jenks strained his neck to see if he could view inside the new private departures area but could see nothing through the darkened windows of the terminal building.
“To hell with it,” Anya and Xavier heard him mumble as he opened the van’s rear door. He quickly ripped the tape from Xavier’s mouth.
“Ow,” Xavier said.
The Master Chief didn’t give Xavier a rebuke other than place his index finger to his lips, shushing the kid. He turned and faced Anya. “I have your word that you won’t scream?”
Anya eyed the Master Chief, and then reluctantly nodded her head. He pulled the duct tape from her mouth.
“This is where we part company. I’m sorry for how this had to happen, but I know the chief nerd boy and he would have never allowed me access to the bastards that hurt Virginia. This is the way I had to do things. Once in the air, I’ll contact the Group and tell them where they can find you. Tell Compton to let the Colonel and Toad know not to get in my way.”
“Master Chief, I assume by your attitude your accomplice failed to show up. That means only one thing, either he’s in custody or he crapped out on you. Either way that grounds you.”
“After all of those years chasing bad guys, do you think I never learned to fly an aircraft? I designed half the airborne ships in service young lady.” Jenks angrily placed the tape back on Anya’s mouth. “Now I fully expect to never see you again in this lifetime, so, take care of yourselves.” Jenks patted Anya on the knee and then jumped from the van and closed the doors.
“Mmm-um-mm,” Anya said with arched eyebrows.
“Huh?” Xavier said, and then shook his head in self-rebuke and quickly pulled the tape from her mouth. “Sorry.”
Anya was wriggling her hands and then suddenly the cuffs came free. She looked at Xavier. “The Master Chief doesn’t know it yet but he’s walking right into an FBI trap.”
“How do you know?” Xavier asked.
Anya gave Morales a withering look. “Hello, ex-Mossad?”
“Right. Again, sorry.”
“Look, I can get you out of the van, but I don’t have time to get you to where we need to go, times too short.”
“Wait, wait. What are we going to do?”
Anya jumped from the van and then pulled Xavier from the back, nearly spilling the large man onto the concrete.
“I haven’t thought that far ahead yet!”
Xavier watched Anya turn and run for the small private terminal.
Doctor Xavier Morales who wasn’t used to even being outside, used his powerful arms and started wheeling in the chase.
“Hey, wait for the overweight crippled guy!”
Once inside the terminal Jenks watched from a safe vantage point the comings and goings of people that could afford to skip the security lines at the airlines in lieu of private flights. To see any city police force in the area was a sure sign that Jenks was being watched. Thus far he had not seen any of Ontario’s finest. He sat behind a newspaper near a small hamburger stand sipping coffee while his eyes roamed the spacious but mostly empty terminal. When he went to get another cup of coffee, he did notice the small Learjet chartered by his student from San Diego State. It wasn’t tied down and looked to be pre-flighted. But thus far the Master Chief had not seen any sign of the young man who would pilot the craft to New England. He tossed the fresh cup of coffee in the trash and picked up his small bag. He wore a hat with a wide brim and his sunglasses would rival any pair Elvis had ever owned. He made for the double doors leading to the plane parking area in the front. He knew it was now or never and couldn’t afford the delay in waiting for his young engineering student.
The sun was just starting to lower toward the sea only twenty-five miles away which was advantageous as the shift change with ground security was in its process. As he neared the small jet, he refused the urge to look around the area as small planes taxied and others pulled next to or inside hangars. When he was thirty feet from the aircraft, he at first felt relief and then apprehension as he saw a figure in the pilot’s seat of the Lear. A hand came up and waved and that was when he saw that it was his student. Jenks didn’t wave back. Thus far his prized pupil had failed to do everything that had been meticulously planned. He stopped walking after waving back and went to a knee to tie his shoe and as he did, he looked for where the FBI ambush would come from. He straightened and then started to turn around and return to the terminal when the stairs of the jet lowered and five FBI agents in their navy-blue windbreakers stormed from the aircraft.
Jenks knew his SEAL days were over, so instead of running, he simply stopped and glared at the agents rushing him with drawn service weapons. The Master Chief knew that if he had to, he could at least disable three of the five before they even got close. He reached behind him and tossed the nine-millimeter onto the tarmac.
“Master Chief Jenks, Director Compton sends his regards and requests that you come with us.”
“Special Agent Wilkerson. Fancy seeing you here.”
“Master Chief,” Wilkerson said as he holstered his weapon and made the other four men lower theirs. “I presume we won’t have any unpleasantness here?”
“Anytime I’m around Feds it’s unpleasant.”
“I was informed to prepare for your attitude toward the world in general. But due to the effort you put into the war with the Greys, I think we can handle your insults with mild applause as to your service.”
Wilkerson didn’t cuff the Master Chief out of respect. One of his agents allowed his apologetic engineering student to go free with no charges as Jenks was led away back inside the terminal. As the doors closed the agent and the others saw the objects of the kidnapping as they looked around the terminal. He waved Xavier and Anya over. Jenks, Anya, and Xavier were led into a private security office. Wilkerson excused the airport security man inside and offered them all a seat.
“As a courtesy we’re going to hold the Master Chief here for a few hours until we can put his mean ass butt on a plane back to Nevada. Master Chief, I was at the crime scene a few days ago and am aware of the personal loss you—”
Wilkerson saw the slight shake of Anya’s head warning him not to even go there. He stopped.
“Suffice it to say we are going to assist Colonel Collins all we can. That comes direct from the President.”
Jenks remained silent as he watched the comings and goings outside of the office window. To Anya it was if the Master Chief were just a passenger with no more anger than a simple flight delay. She knew then that if she didn’t do something drastic Jenks would do something that would be irreversible.
Wilkerson looked at his four men and then nodded. “Bring the cars around,” and then he excused his men and they left the office.
Xavier saw Anya out of the corner of his eye move ever-so-slightly in her chair.
“Now Master Chief,” Wilkerson started to say when he saw the pistol aimed right at his right eye. Xavier felt his heart rate speed up as he watched Anya stand and pull the Master Chief to his feet.
“Jenks, you’re going to have to help Doctor Morales to learn to fly,” she said as Xavier’s eyes went wider than before.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Wilkerson asked as he started to lower his arms and hands. Anya frowned and shook her head.
“Agent Wilkerson, there’s more ways to use this gun than just shooting you with it.”
Wilkerson cleared his throat. “I uh, see your point.”
Anya moved to the window without the stolen nine-millimeter moving an inch in either direction. The former Mossad Major unlocked the window and then slid it open.
“You don’t have to do this Major—I can handle this myself,” Jenks said as he started for the window.
“Yes, I can see that. You’ve done so well so far. Now assist Doctor Morales please. He may come in handy,” she explained as she quickly and expertly cuffed the FBI agent who was shocked that Anya would go against her own boss in Nevada. She then used the same cuffs to cuff him to the large desk, knowing he would be free soon enough when his agents returned. She then pulled the phone cord from the wall and stomped on the connector. She then rummaged through Wilkerson’s pockets and removed his cell phone. She angrily looked at Jenks. “Look, Special Agent Wilkerson is only going to give us a half hour to get over the desert as a head start and as a professional courtesy.”
“I am?”
“Yes, you are. You said earlier you know how the Master Chief must feel. Now we’ll see. I thought I knew how he felt also, now I see we both don’t know what in the hell we’re talking about.”
Wilkerson lowered his head. Jenks nodded his thanks.
“Besides, you don’t want the word to spread around Las Vegas that you were disarmed by a wheelchair-bound Doctor Morales, would you?”
“That’s low.”
Anya heard Xavier yell as Jenks unceremoniously tossed him from the window followed quickly by his backless wheelchair. Then Jenks leaped.
Anya patted Wilkerson on the back. “Thanks agent. For the head start that is.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said embarrassingly.