cheek and nose bore the full brunt of the collision while his body continued its forward motion, crumpled to the floor and landed at Sam’s feet.
Sam stamped on Alex’s right hand, crushing the bones, rendering it useless. He kicked the gun from the man’s hand before walking into the kitchen and seeing his worst nightmare. The lifeless bodies of his wife and son sat awkwardly under the window. Sam turned and walked back to the last of the four men. Tears streamed down his face as the memories of his wife and son flashed through his mind.
A kick to the ribs brought the man round.
“Who sent you?”
“You know who sent us!” replied Alex who already knew he was dead.
“Who gave the order?”
“I don’t know.”
Sam stamped on Alex’s hand, grinding it further into the floor.
“Who?”
“I don…”
Sam raised the gun and shot Alex’s kneecap clean off. Alex passed out almost instantly from the intense pain but was kicked back to consciousness.
“Who?”
“I really don’t know,” struggled Alex through gritted teeth, the pain unbearable.
“Well you’re absolutely fuck all use to me!” spat Sam as he shot the other kneecap.
Sam walked outside and taking a shovel, he began to dig, ignoring the screams from Alex. Within twenty minutes, he hit metal. Ten minutes later, he had retrieved a trunk that he had hoped he would never see again. Pulling the trunk from the hole, he loaded three of the bodies into the now empty hole and covered them with earth, carefully replacing the turf on top. Comfortable the hole wouldn’t be found, he walked back to the shingle beach and retrieved Goldie and carried her back to the cabin, placing her carefully at his wife and son’s sides.
Kissing them all goodbye, Sam stood up and walked out of the kitchen. He doused the cabin in petrol and with a heavy heart and vengeance in his mind, he set fire to his family and home. The final screams of Alex reverberated around the small island as the cabin burned to the ground.
Sam Baker was back and all hell was about to break loose.
Chapter 10
Washington D.C.
Hart Senate Building
“Mr Chairman?”
The Senior Senator for Montana and current Chairman of the Senate Appropriations Committee for Defense turned in the corridor and was met by the sight of an exceedingly attractive young woman dressed from head to toe in Armani. He knew it was Armani because his wife refused to wear anything else. The tall and athletic blonde was drawing more than a few admiring glances from the Senator’s aides.
“Yes, Miss?”
“Special Agent Clark, Amy Clark.”
“How can I help, Agent Clark?”
Special Agent Clark took the Chairman by the elbow and led him conspiratorially away from his three aides. Looking around to check no one was listening, she turned back to the Chairman. As she did so, the Chairman noticed a small coiled cable running to her ear.
“Mr Chairman, we’ve received a direct threat to your life,” she said calmly.
“By
“Sorry, Secret Service.”
The Chairman smiled knowingly. “I’m getting three death threats a week at the moment. What’s so special about this one that it caught the SS’s attention?”
“I’m not aware of the detail, Sir. I’ve just been instructed to place you under Secret Service protection because of a plausible threat to your life.”
“I’ve always been told that the people we should worry about are those who don’t issue threats.”
“Not entirely true, Sir.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Clark, but the last thing I need just now is the Secret Service surrounding me at every turn. Anyway, people will think it’s a gimmick and I’m over inflating my importance before the nominations are concluded. I’m sorry but I’ll have to decline the offer.”
Clark turned around and looked down the corridor where another equally well dressed young man stood at the elevator, accompanied by two uniformed officers of the US Capitol Police Force and shook her head slightly. Receiving a shrug of the shoulders from the man, she turned back to the Chairman who had watched the interaction with interest.
“Now if there’s nothing else, Agent Clark, I really need to get back to work,” he said, checking his watch. “The Secretary of Defense is currently twiddling his thumbs waiting to give his evidence to my committee.”
As the Chairman tried to move away, Agent Clark grabbed his arm firmly. The Chairman was a powerful man, both politically and physically, standing over six foot tall and despite being in his sixth decade, he was not a man people tackled lightly.
The Chairman looked at the hand on his arm, before raising his eyes to meet Agent Clark’s.
“I’m sorry, Sir, but the threat is real and we’ve been ordered to protect you, whether you like it or not,” said Agent Clark nervously.
“By whom?” boomed the Chairman, having lost patience.
“The Director.”
“Well you phone that little shit and tell him I refused. And if he’s got a problem with that, tell him to grow some balls and come and see me himself, instead of sending me his little bit of fluff. Now if you don’t mind, please remove your hand.”
Amy Clark had, since a very young age, dreamt of joining the United States Secret Service. She had dreamt many times of what would have happened had she been at Kennedy’s side on that fateful afternoon and on each occasion, she had sacrificed herself for her president. Her looks, however, more befitting of the front pages of a glossy magazine, had always worked against her. People automatically assumed her promotions or postings were earned by looks rather than merit.
However, no-one had ever thrown the assertion at her so blatantly. The vision of a naked, overweight and thoroughly repugnant Director turned her stomach. Clark removed her hand from the Chairman’s shoulder and slapped him firmly across the face. As her hand made contact, the realization of her actions hit home, as did the noise waves reverberating down the corridor, carrying her career with them.
Everyone in the busy corridor turned to look at the slapped face of the potential presidential candidate from Montana. The agent previously covering the elevator was already running to protect the Chairman from the woman who, rather bizarrely, had been sent to protect him. The Chairman looked at Agent Clark in stunned silence, his face stinging from the open handed slap and his mouth hanging open in complete and total surprise.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” stammered Clark, her eyes filling with tears.
The Chairman quickly came to his senses and looked around at the sea of stunned faces, all waiting to see his reaction.
“Excuse me, excuse me!” could be heard from the small crowd as the Secret Service agent and two police officers struggled through the crowd that had formed. Without thinking, the Chairman grabbed Clark’s limp arm and ushered her into a small office, closing the door firmly behind them.
“I don’t know what came over me. I mean, I can’t believe I hit you. Don’t worry, I’ll resign immediately,” said Clark pulling herself together.
A banging at the door announced the arrival of her colleague.
“Mr Chairman, Sir? Are you OK?”
