Movement on the other end of the line, then the hollow sound of another speakerphone being activated.
“James?” a voice said.
“Yes, Mr. Kidd,” Hardwick said. “I’m here with Mr. Rose right now.”
“Ah. And you’ve delivered our message?”
“I’m in the process.”
“This is ridiculous,” Mr. Rose blurted out. He took several steps toward Hardwick and the phone. “Where is Chairman Vine?”
“Is that you, Mr. Rose?” Mr. Kidd said.
“Where’s the Chairman?”
“I’m the Chairman. If you’re looking for Mr. Vine, he retired.”
“That’s bullshit!” Mr. Rose yelled.
“It is not… bullshit,” a new voice said over the phone. It was older, and its staccato delivery was unmistakably that of the former chairman. “I turned over power to Chairman Kidd ten weeks ago. So, Mr. Rose, you
“Ten weeks?” Mr. Rose said to himself. He looked at the phone as if he could see Mr. Kidd on the other end. “But my operation, you continued to fund it.”
“It was useful to us for a time,” Chairman Kidd said. “We do owe you a thanks. Without your operation, we would have never been able to dispose of some of our more ardent enemies. The DDNI will no longer be hunting us, and as of this morning the Office has ceased operations. Those are both because of you.”
“But why try to stop what I was doing? I don’t understand. It served the plan.”
“Actually,” Hardwick said, “it was decided that it would serve the plan better if your operation were to fail spectacularly. The result will be just as good as if you had succeeded in killing the targets. In fact, probably better.”
“It’s all in service of the plan, Mr. Rose,” Chairman Kidd said. “I think there is only one little matter left to take care of.”
“Wh … what?” Mr. Rose asked.
“Mr. Hardwick will fill you in.” Almost before the last word was spoken, the call was disconnected.
Hardwick glanced at the television. There was a handheld shot from a street where dozens of people were running. In the background, smoke was rising in the air. The graphic at the bottom of the screen identified the location as Morro Bay, California. In the text scroll beneath that, this information:
SCHOOL VISIT BY G8 SPOUSES DISRUPTED PRIOR TO THEIR ARRIVAL ON
THE CAMPUS • NO CASUALTIES YET REPORTED • CHAOS IN STREETS IN
MORRO BAY • SCHOOL VISIT BY G8 SPOUSES…
Hardwick looked over at Mr. Rose and saw that the old man was watching the television, too.
“I don’t think we could have asked for a better result,” Hardwick said, smiling.
Mr. Rose looked at Hardwick, then at the useless phone he seemed to realize he was still holding. When he threw it, it wasn’t a surprise. Hardwick was already moving toward him, the phone missing him by several inches and slamming harmlessly into the cushion on the couch.
Mr. Rose, though, displayed a surprising amount of speed. He was already moving toward the bedroom the moment the phone left his hand. Hardwick sprinted after him, getting to the door just before it closed all the way.
He shoved it open, knocking the older man back. Mr. Rose had one hand on the bed to keep from falling.
“The council knew you wouldn’t take this well,” Hardwick said. “And they just can’t afford having you cause them any other problems. I’m sure you understand.”
Hardwick pulled his Beretta out from the holster under his jacket.
“You wouldn’t fucking dare,” Mr. Rose said.
From a pocket in the jacket, Hardwick methodically removed his suppressor and attached it to the barrel of the gun. When he was done, he pointed it at Mr. Rose.
“Now everything is nice and clean. This operation of yours will be attributed to a small terrorist cell working out of Eastern Europe. G8 summit. Economic terrorists. Wouldn’t be the first time. You, of course, will be branded the ringleader. The cool thing, though, is that in the process of carrying out your little terrorist plot, you were forced to kill several members of the U.S. government who just happened to be enemies of the LP. In fact, turns out they were the ones who wanted to take us down the most. Lucky us.”
Mr. Rose said nothing.
“And the best part?” Hardwick said. “Those who aren’t dead think we were trying to help them stop your threat. It puts us in a most… useful position. Again, thanks.”
“Fuck off,” Mr. Rose said, then dove toward the pile of clothes next to the bathroom.
Hardwick had been expecting the move. His first bullet caught Mr. Rose in the left shoulder, the second in the right hip. The man fell to the floor several feet short of the clothes pile that almost, but not quite, covered up the pistol that was beneath it.
Hardwick knelt down beside the old man. Mr. Rose drew in several rapid breaths, but he showed no fear, only anger.
“Don’t worry,” Hardwick said. “Your body won’t be here for long. I planted enough evidence to lead investigators to this room before the end of the day. Which means I should probably be on my way.”
