All Necessary Force

“You, however, are an anomaly. You can, and often do, act very heroically. You have a capacity that very few people on earth possess, but it works both ways on the scale. I think the death of your family destroyed whatever stopgap you had, and now you have just as large a capacity for evil as you do for good.”

She touched my face. “And you need to find that stopgap again.”

Her words sank in, and I felt an enormous sense of relief. I sat on the bed next to her. “So, if I contain myself, we’re good? If I don’t kill anyone who doesn’t deserve it, if I prove I’m really on the positive side of the scale, you’ll stay?”

She smiled and patted my hand. “We’ll talk about that later. It’ll take more than just you saying it. I’m not sure what I’m going to do, and like I said at the Taskforce, it may be moot anyway. Although I do sort of like this hero stuff.”

That had been four days ago, and now that I wasn’t worried about going to jail, I was surprised at the level of anxiety I felt flying home to Charleston. To the answer.

I saw my name scroll on the screen. I had made the flight. I went down the gangway, feeling as nervous as a kid on his first date.

Jennifer went through the office with a dust mop one more time. Pike would be home any minute, and she wanted the place to look perfect. He had called earlier in the morning, from inside the airplane of his connecting flight in Atlanta, letting her know he’d managed to snag a standby seat. She’d felt a little thrill just hearing his voice, and it had sunk in for the first time that the feeling was genuine. His absence the last four days had solidified something; it wasn’t about anything he had done for her in the past. The thrill wasn’t misplaced gratitude to him for saving her life. It was what it was: an attraction to the man himself.

She still hadn’t made a decision on what she was going to do about the company. She’d thought of little else since her last conversation with Pike, and had realized that it was really up to him. She knew in her heart she couldn’t stay if he didn’t find a way to control the blackness he held. She’d end up hating him, and she would leave first to prevent that.

She went into their office bathroom, checking one more time to see if something nasty had magically appeared in the toilet in the last ten minutes. She heard the front door open and someone shout, “Hello?”

Her face split into a smile, and she ran out, shouting, “Pike!”

Standing in the doorway was her ex-husband, Chase. All six feet four inches, oozing false charm.

“Hello, baby. How’s it going? I told you I’d be coming by.”

She felt the terror seize her, and circled the desk, putting it between them. She sat down so he wouldn’t notice her trembling.

“What do you want? I told you not to come here.”

“I just want a little help. Is that too much to ask?”

He clapped his hands, causing her to jump. He smiled at her reaction, making her feel weak and cowardly. You’re not the same girl. You are not the same girl.

He kept his hands clasped, pretending to survey the office.

“You’re doing pretty well for yourself, I see.”

The door opened behind him and Pike entered the office, awkwardly walking on a cane. Jennifer saw his smile melt into confusion. Oh no. This just got bad.

“And you must be the partner,” Chase said. “Really good to meet you.”

Pike shook his hand, saying, “And you are?”

Jennifer said, “Pike, this is Chase, my ex-husband.”

She saw Pike’s face harden, and knew that Chase was now in serious danger. Jennifer had told Pike everything her ex-husband had done, a sort of therapy to excise the fear she still held because of the beatings she had taken at his hand. It had been a mistake. Pike had become enraged, wanting to fly to Texas and confront her ex. She had stopped him, but she feared what he would do now. He might kill Chase. Literally.

Pike said, “Why don’t you just get the fuck out of here, while you can still walk.”

Jennifer shouted, “Pike! This isn’t your business. Go. Please.”

Chase said, “Yeah, you ought to listen to her. I don’t really give a shit about your injuries. I’m just here for what’s rightfully mine. You say anything else to me, and you’ll have both arms in a sling.”

Like a child poking an alligator lying in the sun, Chase had no idea of the danger he was in. Jennifer knew Pike could kill him easily, even with only one good arm.

She saw Pike begin to close the distance and shouted again, “Pike! Stop! Now!”

He did, although she could tell it was taking all of his self-control.

“Please leave,” she said. “I can handle this.”

Pike’s glare remained fixed on Chase. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

With what looked like superhuman effort, he slowly turned toward the door. She could sense the pain he felt at the act. But he’s doing it. She felt a sliver of relief, then realized what had just happened. He was leaving because she’d asked. No other reason. He wanted to beat Chase within an inch of his life, probably wanted to punish him more than anything else on earth, and he was leaving.

I’m his stopgap.

For reasons she couldn’t explain, the fear left her.

He had his hand on the knob, when Chase said, “That’s a smart decision. This isn’t your business anyway.”

Jennifer said, “Pike?”

“Yes?”

She tried to remain serious but couldn’t prevent a smile from leaking out. “I’ve changed my mind. I think I could use a little help here. To keep the fight fair.”

The pain on Pike’s face drained away, replaced by a smile that matched her own. Instead of turning the knob, he locked it.

“As you wish.”

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The prologue of this book is fiction, but there is a ring of truth. The one-one of the team was named for my cousin, SGT Dickie Thomas. He was killed running recon for CCS in Cambodia on January 9, 1970, on a mission not unlike the fictional one I portrayed. He was twenty-two years old.

He and men like him in MACV-SOG were and are some of the bravest soldiers this country has ever had, and their story is largely untold. Conducting missions that were damn near suicidal, they went across the fence into denied countries time and time again, developing tactics, techniques, and procedures that are still used by Special Operations Forces to this day. Chris Hale’s actions in the book sound like fiction because it’s hard to believe that such selfless courage exists, but the story is true. SPC5 John J. Kedenburg, a one-zero for a CCN recon team, received a posthumous Medal of Honor for the actions I attributed to Chris Hale, sacrificing himself to save the life of his team member — a Vietnamese.

Before I get a bunch of e-mails about how I’ve put American lives in jeopardy by blue-printing how a terrorist could attack our power grid, the Fort A.P. Hill Ammunition Supply Point, and/or the Calvert Cliffs Nuclear Power Plant, rest assured I didn’t. Explosively Formed Penetrators are real, of course. We are, in fact, conducting research into nanotechnology to make them more effective. I have no idea, however, how effective, because all that stuff’s top-secret, and I’m not privy to it anymore. It’s fiction in this book. Fort A.P. Hill is also real, as is the ASP. About 90 percent of what I wrote is accurate, but there are a few red herrings in there that are not. Try attacking the place like I described, and you’ll fail. For instance, the first thing you see when you go in the police station is not a desk in the open; it’s a man behind a layer of bulletproof glass. I won’t tell you the other red herrings, but people who work there will know. Finally, the Calvert Cliffs Nuclear Plant is also real, as is the state park. The difference is that the park doesn’t butt up to the plant. There’s about a mile of civilization between them. It would be impossible to attack the place like Rafik does.