21

FIVE HUNDRED NAUTICAL MILES ABOVE ANTARCTICA

The armada of saucers had covered the distance between Moon Gap and Earth in less than half an hour. The burning Garrison Lee was still hanging onto the huge power-replenishment ship and her superstructure was now covered in space-suited Grays as they boarded looking for anyone still alive.

Ryan saw how big the Earth was growing in the windscreen and hurried the shuttle toward the enormous deflector plow embedded deeply in the saucer, which had already healed itself as much as the deflector plow would allow. The battleship was now attached to the large saucer. Jenks again hit the braking thrusters and was satisfied when the shuttle started to slow. Then the fuel lines quickly ran dry as Ryan saw the fast-approaching deflector plow growing larger in the windscreen.

“Oh, shit.”

The shuttle first slammed into the bow of the Lee and then careened into the thick steel-reinforced plow. The shuttle slammed to a stop.

“All hands, time to go.” Jenks blasted open the twin bay doors. As the men started to use their backpacks to get into the air, several laser shots blasted by their heads. The men slowed, as they didn’t know where the fire was coming from.

“Damn it, they were waiting on us.” Ryan wished he had a cannon mounted on the nose of the shuttle.

Suddenly a rail gun sprang to life, firing a single round in front of the fast-moving assault element. The tungsten round slammed into the opening of the damaged section and took out five Grays as they thought they had easy floating targets. The rail gun fell silent as a team of Grays hit the mount, blowing it into oblivion.

The assault element entered the saucer though the giant hole created by the Lee.

Jenks removed his helmet, forgoing the danger of a hull breach, and then popped a dead cigar stub into his mouth.

“Well, all we can do now is wait, flyboy.”

*   *   *

Everett had lost one man as they floated through the strange interior of the large craft. The curved walls were luminescent in a soft green glow. The expanse of deck was empty, with the exception of debris that had blasted into the interior from Ryan’s AMRAAMs. As they gained a foothold, they found the farther they got from the damaged area, the more gravity they were feeling. Soon they were able to place feet on the deck and move far more rapidly. They soon found the flooring to be slimy underneath their boots. The vessel seemed to pulsing with a life of its own.

Suddenly they were confronted by an unhelmeted Gray as the creature rounded the curvature of the corridor. The Gray reacted faster than the assault team as it raised its long staff of a weapon and fired point blank into one of the Delta team as he was caught totally unaware. The laser weapon tore a large hole into the kid and he was blown backward. Before the Gray could re-aim his clumsy weapon, Everett and three others opened fire with their seventy-five-watt laser rifles. The beams caught the Gray and neatly sliced its head and arms away as if he was cut with a butcher’s saw. Everett checked on the downed Delta man, who clearly was dead. He quickly removed the large nuke from his back, cutting easily through the duct tape, and slung it over his oxygen tanks.

Everett knew then the assault team was bound to run into more Grays inside the vast ship, and the admiral also knew they would never make it as far in as they had planned.

“Attack team Alpha, we’re placing charges right here. We’ll get cut to pieces before we get to the target area.”

“Attack team Alpha, this is Bravo, we understand, we are running into heavy Gray activity. Will progress further and see if resistance is lighter, over.”

“Bravo, negative, say again, negative. Set your charges at current pos. I repeat, your current position. I believe the nukes will be enough to set off a chain reaction inside the ship. Look at the walls, the whole thing is one big massive power cell, over.”

*   *   *

Ryan and Jenks heard the radio calls and exchanged looks.

“Carl will never have the time for his team to find another way out. And we’re all out of heavy ordnance.” Ryan felt helpless as he knew Everett would set off the charges regardless.

Jenks looked frustrated as he tried to think. He removed the cigar and threw it hard against the glass. “Goddamn it, I knew that asshole Toad would go and blow himself up!”

“Ryan, do you copy? Over,” a call pierced their helmets. “Ryan, do you copy? Over.” The call came in the clear.

“This is Ryan. Jack, is that you?”

“Listen up, we have control of the last functioning rail gun, but we have Grays crawling all over the place. Leave the section you’re currently in and make your way back to the same location where the admiral and his men entered the saucer. We have the coordinates and will blast open the hole again. Get those men off that are near you and Lieutenant Tram will bring your team over to the escape pods, over.”

Jenks whistled. “Ballsy, but that may be the only way of getting two birds with one stone.”

“Roger that, what about you?”

“Just follow orders, Jason. Now get a move on; I fire this thing in two mikes, over.”

Jason saw the first of his assault team as they started to gather at the damaged section where the deflector plow was buried deep into the saucer. That was when he felt a strange vibration course through the shuttle.

“What in the hell is that?” he said to Jenks.

“Oh, shit,” the master chief said as he looked closely at his radar screen. The familiar displacement of space and time started to show up on the sweep of radar. “We have a large buildup of power emissions coming from that ship. I think it’s trying to power up to form a time-displacement wormhole. Goddamn it, can we catch a break here?”

Jason didn’t hesitate further. He tried to fire his maneuvering thrusters, but they failed to fire.

“Forget it, mister, we’re bone dry on JP-5 for the thrusters. All we have is main engine power. You’re going to have to push us through the steel of the Lee to get us out.” Jenks quickly replaced his helmet. “Bravo team, do you understand the plan? Over.”

“Weapons set and operational—ten minutes to detonation. Team Bravo regressing to evac point, I hope someone’s there to cover our asses,” said the SEAL lieutenant.

Jason grimaced as he looked over at the master chief. “Sorry about this.” He pushed the joystick on the left armrest to its stops, at the same time firing the starboard maneuverings jets. The shuttle started coming forward, farther into the damaged section of saucer. The large deflector plow scraped hard against the tiles of the shuttle as Ryan applied more forward pressure. They heard cables and electrical wiring snapping like piano wires as the shuttle cut through the stabilizing rigging for the plow. Jason applied more fire to the starboard OHMs burn. The shuttle started turning as they entered the interior of the giant saucer. The inside of the cockpit glowed green and blue as the walls of the ship illuminated the men’s two faces. Then Jason felt the pressure holding back the shuttle ease as he broke through. He turned tight and then she was free.

“Go, go, go!” Jenks shouted. The small shuttle broke into the open with her main engine shooting a long flash of bright blue flame, her engines at full power. She sped along the centerline mass of the saucer, heading for the scabbed-over area where Carl and his men had vanished, hoping Collins was right about a rail gun being operational.

*   *   *

Tram was at the very bow of the Garrison Lee, waving the attack team forward. He saw Grays close behind and so he lowered himself behind the large deflector plow, then brought the very old gift he had received from Jack Collins four years before to his shoulder. The M-14 was settled into a conjoined seam of steel for a steady support, and the Vietnamese sniper took careful aim. The Grays were firing at the men trying desperately to escape through the hole. They started to scramble over the area the shuttle had just destroyed when the first of the Grays started shooting.

The SEAL lieutenant was shot in the back before Tram could cover him. The small man cursed his slowness but still drew a bead on the monstrous being bearing down on the retreating assault team. He fired. The 7.62 millimeter round caught the first Gray in the exact center of the helmeted head, dropping him immediately. The second powerful round took the next one in line and was just as deadly. The third took two shots to bring it down. The assault team now had the time to go hand over hand across the plow to reach Tram’s position.

Tram raised the rifle and pointed back toward the very bow of the Lee and the escape pods waiting there.

“General, we have succeeded. I will now come to you,” Tram said in broken English as he moved to follow Team Bravo to the superstructure of the burning Lee.

“Negative, Lieutenant, get the hell out of here. That’s an order!” Jack said forcefully.

Tram looked amidships, where Collins was inside the number fifteen rail gun. He watched as the small turret turned toward the formerly damaged area where Alpha team had entered. Tram cursed and then followed the team to the escape pods. His battle was now over.

*   *   *

Everett watched as the last charge was set. He felt the hair inside his suit rise as power coursed through the ship around him. He had heard the master chief and his opinion earlier that the saucer was trying to open a wormhole. The giant saucer started to shake as the power increased.

“Last charge is set,” he called. A rocking explosion sounded from close to a half mile away. Jack had done what he promised and opened the hole. The rail gun discharged once more, opening the hole wider and slowing the reatomizing of the material making up the alien saucer’s hull.

“Okay, Alpha, your door is open!” Jack called as he saw the shuttle limp close in. The braking jets were still and silent as Ryan slammed the black nose into the void. “Your ride’s here, Admiral, move it!”

“Jack, get the hell out of there, don’t worry about us!”

*   *   *

Collins escaped the turret just before the Grays blew it to shreds. Fifteen of them fired continuously and didn’t even notice when Jack slid out of the opening between the two electrically charged barrels. He thought for a moment that his bulky suit was going to get caught, and then with a deep intake of breath he pushed through. He floated freely for a brief moment until he was able to reach out and grab a floating cable that arrested his flight before he drifted away between the flaming wreck of the Lee and the power-distribution saucer. Steady explosions were starting to rock the broken battleship from stem to stern as her munitions and coolant tanks started to cook off as the flames reached the many storage lockers buried deep inside the ship. As Collins watched the bridge area finally let go as the Lee’s forward particle and Argon gas storage area exploded in a blue cloud of debris. The bridge separated itself from the superstructure and went hurtling into the large saucer. The steel slammed into the large alien craft, creating a large hole that quickly started to heal. Jack chanced a look at the hole he blasted through the saucer’s hull and saw Ryan taking on Carl’s assault team.

Suddenly the area of space around the saucer started to waver before Jack’s eyes and he thought that he was finally succumbing to his head wound. Then his stomach started to turn over as his gloved hand tried to keep a hold on the drifting cable holding him in place. As he spun he saw the whiteness of Antarctica far below. He wondered if Sarah was safe, and that was all his mind could take in at the moment. A hand took hold of his suit and he thought he saw Carl’s face.

“Damn it, Jack, you accidently shut down your oxygen mix.”

Collins felt himself rolled over and then the cold, refreshing blast of air as it filled his helmet.

As Everett turned him over he saw that the shuttle was ready for them. He pushed and pulled Jack free of the wreckage of the Lee as she shuddered, and then there was silence as she started to wrench away from the fast moving saucer. Everett saw the shuttle as Ryan tried in vain to hold her in place, but the Garrison Lee finally broke in two directly amidships. The stern section whipped around and in its wake it slingshot the shuttle forward and away from the two men.

Carl reached out and grabbed the remains of the aluminum United Nations flag as her battered stern came around. That was when his eyes fell on the tunnel opening for the escape pods.

“Make a run for home, Ryan, we can’t make it!” Carl said into his mike as Jack started to come around. His eyes tried to focus but all he could see was the deflector plow finally releasing its hold on the giant saucer and go hurting into low orbit.

“No fucking way, we’re coming to get you.”

Jenks came on next and belayed the order. “We don’t have the fuel, we’re going to have to find a clear and very long runway as it is. We’ve lost lower hydraulics and that means no landing gear.”

“You heard the man, Jason, fire your main engine and get back to Camp Alamo. You can’t miss it, use the ice for a runway. Now get to it!”

With one last look at his two friends Ryan realized he had to save the men crammed into the cargo hold. Angry, he throttled the shuttle forward.

“I take it the rescue didn’t go well,” Jack said as he finally came around. He grabbed for the dislodged stern section that held the battered flag.

“We only have to float here for a few seconds longer, buddy,” Everett said as he held onto Jack tighter.

“How much longer?” Collins asked, knowing what Carl meant.

Before he could answer, a small rescue pod bumped into them. Inside they saw the serious face of Tram as he guided the escape pod closer. He threw open the Plexiglas cover and then gestured for the men.

Carl knew the limitations of the pod. It held six and Tram already had six plus himself inside. He pushed and pulled Jack along the flag and then shoved the weightless body toward the open hatch.

“Take him, Lieutenant; I’ll catch the next one.”

Collins tried to reach out and take hold of Everett’s arm but it was too late. He felt hands on him as the men of the Bravo assault element pulled him inside the small pod.

Tram placed the escape vehicle into automatic and the small craft shot forward, hurtling toward the ice continent far below.

Everett watched his friends leave and was content.

The swirling pattern of the vortex started in earnest as the dimensional wormhole started to form. To his surprise it whipped up a debris storm and his eyes widened as he saw an empty escape pod come at him from out of nowhere. He let go of the flag and reached for all he was worth. He caught the open canopy of the dislodged and empty pod. He held on as he tried to pull himself up and in. He finally managed to make it and immediately buttoned it up.

“Carl, damn you,” Jack was heard saying.

“I’m not dead yet, buddy.” He placed the pod into automatic to allow the computer to take him home.

“Get away from there, the wormhole is on you!”

To Everett it looked as if a kaleidoscope had opened up and the colors of the universe filled the black void of space. The sight was amazing. The saucer was creating something only found naturally in deep space as stars collapsed in on themselves. The swirling tornado of dust particles, debris from the battle, and dust from space filled his vision as the saucer started to make a run for its home fleet. The smaller saucers fell into formation with it and Carl’s pod was pulled up at the same moment.

Every event of Everett’s life soon flew past his vision. He knew this to be illusion as his body and mind were caught in the displacement of time as the escape pod shot up into the swirling tornado of light. The large saucer, the processing ships, and the smaller attack craft were three hundred miles ahead of the small pod and much farther into the tornado.

“I don’t think so,” Carl said as his smile grew wide.

The twenty-four Israeli-built nuclear charges detonated right on time, catching the large saucer before it exited the displacement into the deep-space home of the floating home fleet carrying the remains of the Gray civilization. The power replenishment ship blew outward with the power of an exploding sun, vaporizing the other ships and sending them to their doom in the wink of an eye.

“Oops,” was all Everett had time to say as he glanced at the watch he had attached to his spacesuit’s sleeve just above the thick glove. He saw the exact time that was recorded on the damaged and ancient watch found in Antarctica by the British five years before, and the blood-streaked crystal. The small pod was violently thrown backward as the wave of superheated gases slammed into Everett. The pod was immediately and violently thrown free of the displacement wormhole and sent tumbling through the tunnel until it exited somewhere over Antarctica—two hundred thousand years before the Garrison Lee ever took flight.

The great mystery that no man could avoid came to pass and Admiral Carl Everett vanished into a distant past.

Soon the dimensional wormhole dissipated and nothing was left but the floating wreckage of a once proud warship of human and Martian design.

CHATO’S CRAWL, ARIZONA

Matchstick held the hand of Gus, and Dr. Denise Gilliam had her arm wrapped around the old man’s waist as they were led from the Black Hawk to the front gate. Gus wanted nothing more than to get inside his old, comfortable shack and rest with his best friend. Before they reached the gate, the copilot of the helicopter hurriedly caught up with Pete and Charlie. Matchstick stopped to see what the excitement was about. They failed to see the burly man with the cowboy hat at the open gate tense up.

“Dr. Golding, we have a flash message from Group,” the young copilot said as the pilot also joined the three men. The Marine corporal was eyeing the big man at the gate suspiciously as he noticed the man’s eyes never left the small form of Mahjtic.

Pete took the hastily transcribed note and read it. His smile was cautious as he looked up at an expectant Matchstick.

“The power-replenishment saucer and the processing ships no longer appear on long-range Earth-based imagery.”

Matchstick momentarily let go of the hand of the old prospector and took an expectant step closer to Pete. His small blue jumpsuit was too large as the pant legs dragged on the ground.

“The Garrison Lee has been destroyed.”

Charlie placed a hand on the small shoulder and lowered his head.

Pete seemed to take heart with the next paragraph written on the notepad.

“The Lee’s escape pods are parachuting into the sea and on land near Camp Alamo and rescue operations have commenced.”

The small alien took hold of Gus’s hand and smiled up at him.

“Well, you did it, you little shit,” he said with his old smile that made Mahjtic feel good inside that he could please Gus. “Don’t go braggin’ ’bout it,” the old prospector said to Golding. “He’s gonna be a bear to live with now.”

Charlie, Pete, Denise, and Matchstick, in his strange cottony voice, all laughed.

“Come on Gus, we can talk about this inside,” Dr. Gilliam said.

Marine corporal DeSilva moved closer to Matchstick. He also looked at the guard shack closest to the fence and slowly started to reach for the old Colt .45 at his belt. The young pilot of the Black Hawk saw the movement and unsnapped his holster that lay across his chest and then nudged the pilot trying to get his attention. The corporal saw something that gave him pause. The big man at the gate kept flicking his dark eyes toward the old shack and then back again. He also didn’t particularly care for the way he looked back at the group and the uneasy smile that appeared. His old combat hackles began to rise.

The Marine corporal pulled the Colt from its holster, but before it cleared the leather a shot rang out and DeSilva fell into the copilot. The pilot was much faster, as he had his Beretta nine millimeter in his hand, and shot the big man who had fired into the Marine with a gun he had hidden at his side. The large round caught the man in the shoulder, knocking him off balance and before anyone knew it, Charlie Ellenshaw was on the man, taking the giant down, beating him with his fists.

Gunfire from their rear struck Ellenshaw in the back of his shoulder blade and sent him flying off the wounded bear of a man. Charlie hit face-first, his glasses flying from his face. Gus pulled Matchstick and Denise to the ground just as flying bullets caught the pilot. Three rounds stitched his flight suit but the tough Air Force lieutenant managed to get off one round as he fell backward. The nine-millimeter bullet struck the man directly in the center of his forehead, freezing him like a statue.

Gus saw the fallen weapon of the man as he fell and it clattered next to him. He started to reach for it when Denise screamed for him not to.

“Stop shooting!” Hiram Vickers shouted as he sprang from the open doorway of the old shack. He was waving his hands as the giant’s brother was screaming as if he had gone insane. “Stop, we need them alive!”

The crazed brother of the dead man wasn’t listening. His M-4 opened fire on full automatic. Gus was struck in the head and chest, and he was thrown off of Matchstick and Denise Gilliam. Pete tried desperately to retrieve the falling gun that flew from the old man’s hand and in a near state of panic allowed it to slip through his fingers. He turned just as the charging man that had lain like a snake in hiding emptied half of the magazine into Pete Golding, sending him flying backward. Then he turned the weapon toward Denise and a frightened and stunned Matchstick as she tried to protect him the best that she could. She threw her body once again onto the alien. She felt the bullets pass through her back.

Vickers took quick aim and fired his nine millimeter six times. The bullets finally dropped the crazed fool, first to one knee, and then with a blank look on the bearded face, he fell forward dead. Vickers looked at his weapon and then lowered it in stunned silence. He raised his eyes and looked at the complete disaster that had unfolded in the blink of an eye.

Vickers stood there with the smoking weapon in his hand and looked at the carnage before him. Denise Gilliam’s body twitched, then he saw a small arm and hand reach out and try and touch the hand of the old prospector who lay not far from the two bodies. The fingers twitched and as the long digits came into contact with the old man’s still hand, the hand then quit moving.

Vickers saw his life coming to an end as his last hope of getting a trade for his life was now gone.

He slowly made his way to the car that was hidden behind the old shack. He looked back once more at the eight bodies that lay there as the hot desert wind started to pick up. His red hair blew into his eyes as he saw the carnage not as a disturbing scene, but as a man would look at a broken dish he had dropped in his kitchen. He knew now he would have to run.

Hiram Vickers had one last hope and that was to blackmail Camden and Peachtree. After all, he had been under orders to secure the asset known as Magic.

*   *   *

As the red taillights of his car vanished in the distant desert night, another Black Hawk came low over the desert scrub. The pilot took the large helicopter to two hundred feet as he looked on in shocked silence at the scene below. He switched on his powerful searchlight and scanned the area below. His heart sank when his mind took in the carnage.

Dr. Virginia Pollock, tired and weary from her flight from the east, saw the scene in slow-motion detail as the searchlight played over the fallen. Her head slowly slid against the glass and a loud moan escaped her lips.

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

The president was wheeled into the Oval Office by the first lady. Four Secret Service agents flanked them as the commander-in-chief saw the man stand from the couch he had been sitting in. Before the door closed, General Maxwell Caulfield entered and was followed by the reaffirmed director of the FBI and the newly reinstalled director of the CIA, Harlan Easterbrook.

The president reached out a hand and touched his wife’s as he neared the window that looked out onto Pennsylvania Avenue. He swallowed and pulled back the lace curtain and took in the view. Gone were the thousands of protesters that had lined the avenue. Being packed up and crated were the many missile batteries that had not only covered the White House grounds, but the entire city. Gone also was the innocence of the nation, along with that of the entire world. Not one person living could ever have that sense of security again. It had been ten days since the battle for Earth and they had lost too many of their own and others. The entire planet was in mourning over the death and destruction.

Speaker of the House Giles Camden watched the president as he allowed the curtain to fall back into place. The small man adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses and sternly looked on as the broken and wounded man was turned in his wheelchair by the first lady to take his rightful place behind the Lincoln desk.

The other men in the room flanked the desk and looked at the former acting president.

“Your friend and ally, Mr. Peachtree, is nowhere to be found,” the president started saying. “The FBI says he’s somewhere in Panama, but they suspect he will try to eventually make his way to a nonextradition nation.”

Camden remained standing and silent as he eyed his most hated enemy.

“He should know that there is no such thing as a safe haven any longer. The entire world is searching for Mr. Peachtree and his trained monkey, Hiram Vickers—who, by the way, has forwarded to this office a very cryptic message. It said that he has information on not only who ordered the hit on our asset in Arizona, but also an unsolved double murder in Georgetown last year.”

“I don’t understand, Mr. President. Who is this Hiram Vickers?”

The first lady scowled at the question and wanted to jump over her husband and strangle the man. But the president patted her hand that was gripping the wheelchair so tight it turned her knuckles white with rage.

“Well, I’m sure we’ll know everything in a few days. In the meantime, Mr. Speaker, I have had conversations with members of your party and the rest of the House. It seems you have been relegated to minor status—in other words, they want you out. The loss of two hundred and fifty thousand American lives in Antarctica, at sea, and in space has been charged to your account.”

“I only did what I thought—”

The president’s hand came down hard on the reports of death and destruction that lined his work area, and his face grew grave as he slowly stood on his shattered legs and leaned on the desk.

“Peachtree and Vickers will be caught, Mr. Speaker, and we will get to the bottom of this, and your resignation will be the last thing you are thinking about. The FBI and the IRS have uncovered some very interesting paper trails from your office that wind through many foreign bank accounts, and those countries you thought would assist in hiding that paper trail have suddenly become very cooperative. It’s not the same world any longer, Mr. Speaker.”

Camden looked closely at the man behind the desk as he tiredly slid down into the wheelchair. His eyes then went to the men around him and even the Secret Service agents who only days before had guarded his life. The hate there was enough to send chills down the most coldhearted man ever to hold public office. He reached down and retrieved his briefcase, nodded at the president, and then left the Oval Office.

“Mr. President, that’s enough for today,” Max Caulfield said as he took in his exhausted features.

“No, I have one last task to perform. Mr. Easterbrook, do you have that address?”

“Yes, sir, right here.” The silver-haired man reached out and gave the first lady the note.

“Do we have enough to put that son of a bitch Camden away for life?”

The director of the FBI smiled. He just nodded his head.

“Then the testimony of the two traitors, Hiram Vickers and Daniel Peachtree, will not be needed?”

“Not at all, sir,” the director said as he and the others started to leave.

The president waited until he and the first lady were alone before he picked up his secure phone. Before he made the connection he looked up at his wife. She only nodded and smiled, giving her tacit approval of what he was about to do.

“We owe him at least this much.” She patted him on the shoulder and then reached down and pecked him on the cheek.

The president watched the first lady leave the office and then he turned to the phone and made the call. It was answered.

“The Juarez Hotel, Panama City, room 817,” the president said calmly into the phone and then hung up. He then made another connection. It was also answered on the first ring. “After this I cannot protect you. Your status will be as before in the eyes of American law enforcement.”

“I understand,” the voice said from the other end.

“But before I say anything, in my eyes and the eyes of many others you have shown your true quality. I won’t ever forget that.”

The phone was silent.

“1262 Norman Drive, Beverly Hills. He’s there now.”

The phone went dead and the president slowly hung up.

“All family business,” he said to himself. The Oval Office door opened and the Secret Service man allowed the president’s two daughters to come in running. They threw their arms around him and hugged him. His eyes went to the window as he returned their hugs. “All family business.”

BEVERLY HILLS, CALIFORNIA

Daniel Peachtree was staying at the richly appointed home of an old college friend, one who’d invested the millions of dollars he and Camden had made during the technology buy-up of the past four years. He casually walked out to the pool that was a part of the thirty-five-million-dollar home and told the houseman that he wanted a drink. He had been doing a lot of drinking since Vickers’s small fiasco in the desert. He shook his head, slowly sat down, and leaned back in the expensive chaise longue. He closed his eyes until he heard the tinkle of ice inside a glass. He smiled and looked up as his drink was handed to him.

He took a sip and then noticed the houseman had not moved away but continued to block his sunlight. He glanced up and became confused, as he didn’t recognize the man standing over him. The gray suit and white shirt bounced the sun off of him and Peachtree became concerned.

“Who in the hell are you?” he asked as he placed the drink on the glass table next to the lounge chair.

“I, Mr. Peachtree, am no one but a messenger.”

Peachtree swallowed at the blond-haired man standing over him. “What message?”

The man didn’t smile, he didn’t even blink as the large knife was plunged deeply into the former CIA’s director of Operation’s chest. The blade was twisted and the breath exploded from Peachtree’s lungs. Blood flowed from his open mouth.

“Colonel Jack Collins sends his regards.”

Henri Farbeaux pulled the knife free and then slowly and mercilessly sliced the American traitor’s throat.

With that, Colonel Henri Farbeaux once again assumed his most-wanted status in the world. He disappeared into the backdrop of a tired and war-weary society.

PANAMA CITY, PANAMA

Hiram Vickers was whistling as he turned the old-fashioned lock to his room. He had just left two messages, one at Camden’s Georgetown residence, and one at Peachtree’s. There had been no answer at either home but that didn’t dampen his mood, as he knew the men had been forced into a corner with the simple threat of exposure. He slowly pushed open the door and flicked on the table lamp by the frame. He closed the door and then tossed his room key in the ashtray there. As he turned he saw the man sitting in the room’s only chair.

Jack Collins.

He tried to say something but the words froze in his throat. Collins tilted his head as he looked at the man who had so ruthlessly murdered his little sister. The man was an enigma to a man like Jack. The way he arrogantly pranced through the world affecting the lives of others with no regard to who the men or women really were, and how his decisions affected not only them, but the families of those unfortunates.

Jack Collins was still bandaged from his forehead to his arms from the ordeal in Antarctica and outer space. His eyes were blackened and his nose broken. This made his appearance that much more menacing, even though Vickers easily recognized the man from his apartment in Georgetown and the many nightmares since.

“I—”

Collins shook his head and Vickers stopped before he started. Jack nodded for Vickers to move to the couch and sit. He did.

Collins slowly stood, feeling every one of his injuries from the previous week. He stood before Hiram Vickers.

“I didn’t know what I was going to say before today. What you did to Lynn, and then the taking of so many innocents in Chato’s Crawl…” Jack stopped, unable to continue for a moment. “What turns a man into an animal?”

The redheaded man swallowed and looked away from the piercing blue eyes.

Jack Collins made his way to the door, opened it, and stepped out into the warm day. He took a breath and spotted a small housekeeper making her way down the second-story balcony. Jack placed his sunglasses on and then smiled as he approached the old woman.

“Llamar a la policía y el cuerpo de bomberos, por favor,” he said with a smile. “Vámonos!” he added and slapped her ample behind.

The housekeeper left her cart and started hurriedly walking away. She turned and with one last look back at the bruised man who had sent her off to call the police and fire departments, decided that she should run.

Jack Collins slowly walked away and down the nearest set of stairs. He was almost to the rented car when a whoosh was heard from above. The large window of the room Hiram Vickers had rented blew outward. Flames licked the hallway as the screaming sounded in the nearly empty hotel.

Jack opened the passenger door of the rental car. Jason Ryan was behind the wheel and he placed the car into gear. The two Event Group officers moved away from the cheap hotel as fire alarms and the distant sound of sirens pierced the beautiful day in Panama City.