Cyndi let go of Lance. She turned and faced McNeil. “What did you just say?”
Chapter Fifty-Three
“You heard me!” McNeil said.
Cyndi cocked her head to the side. “How did you know Pierce had a team with him? I never mentioned that when I called you.”
“Of course you did. How else would I have known? The extreme stress you were under has obviously damaged your fragile memory.”
“Her memory is just fine.” Lance turned and addressed the general. “I was standing right next to Cyndi when she made the call. She never said it.”
Cyndi’s blue eyes opened wide. “Oh my God. How could I have not seen it? It’s you. You did this.”
“You really are paranoid, Stafford,” McNeil huffed.
“That’s why you picked me. You set me up to take the blame for all of this.” Cyndi’s legs suddenly felt weak.
Lance grabbed her and held her up. “We trusted you. We came to you for help. You bastard.”
“You’re the one going to jail, General McNeil,” Cyndi said. “For high treason.”
He just laughed at her hollow threat. “Not only are you paranoid, Captain, you’re hopelessly naïve.” McNeil walked over and snatched the picture of President Donovan off the wall. He spit on it then hurled it to the floor, shattering the glass. Next, he swept his arm across Crawford’s desk. Her laptop crashed to the floor. Papers scattered across the room.
“What are you doing?” Cyndi shouted.
In an eerily calm voice, McNeil said, “After I provided proof that you were behind this devious plot, you two martial arts experts attacked me. Said you were going to kill me.” He picked up a razor-sharp shard of glass and slashed it across his face. A deep gash opened below his right eye. Blood gushed down his cheek. “I had to make sure the truth got out, so I fought back valiantly.” He kicked over his secretary’s chair, denting the wall as it crashed into it. “After a vicious fight, it finally ended. I was victorious, of course.”
“You won’t get away with this,” Cyndi said. “Even if I have to get every lawyer in the Air Force involved, the truth of what you did will all come out in the court-martial.”
“I won’t allow you to waste taxpayers’ money on a baseless fishing expedition,” McNeil roared back.
“Allow? Yeah, right. We’ll see you in court, General.” Lance hooked his arm around Cyndi. They turned to leave.
A folder full of circumstantial incriminating evidence wasn’t the only thing that McNeil had retrieved from his desk. He reached around his back and pulled a .38 Special snub-nosed revolver from his waistband.
“There’s not going to be a court-martial.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
Cyndi and Lance spun around.
McNeil aimed the gun at Cyndi’s heart. “You couldn’t just be a good airman and fall on the damned grenade, could you? No, you had to cause trouble.”
Lance held out both hands. “Put the gun down, sir. We can work this out.”
“You had your chance, Garcia.” He waved the gun to his right. “Move away from the door.”
“You’re insane,” Cyndi said, still clutching Lance.
McNeil snorted. “Genius is the word that comes to mind. Striking the largest cities in China was a tactically brilliant move. It would’ve decapitated the entire Chinese Politburo in one strike. Their military would have been decimated. The most dangerous country in the world would have been sent back to the Stone Age, where it belongs.”
Lance stepped in front of Cyndi. “If you so much as scratch her, I’ll…”
“What, kill me? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m the one with the gun. Adding two more chumps to my body count won’t bother me a bit. And I have the perfect alibi. An open-and-shut case of self-defense if there ever was one.”
“I knew it,” Cyndi said, shaking her head. “How did you con Pierce and Dr. Zhao into going along with your insane plan?”
McNeil grunted with a self-assured grin. “Ever read a history book? Revenge isn’t just the strongest motivation; it’s also the easiest to manipulate. Why do you think I targeted them? They were more than willing to go along with my plan.”
Lance started toward McNeil.
“Get back!” he screamed.
Cyndi grabbed Lance’s arm. “No!”
McNeil cocked the hammer. “Say hello to your father, Stafford.” He sighted down the barrel and started to squeeze the trigger.
Suddenly, the office door crashed open. The window shattered.
A dozen heavily armed security forces stormed in, their M4 carbines raised to the firing position.
The team leader, 1st Lt. Tommy Norris—a tough Nebraska farm kid who once captured an entire Taliban platoon on one of his many deployments—saw McNeil holding a revolver and drew his M9 pistol. “Drop the gun!”
“Shoot him!” Cyndi screamed, pointing at McNeil. “He was going to murder us!”
“Lower your weapon, Lieutenant!” McNeil ordered the team leader, pointing his finger in his direction. He kept his .38 pointed at Cyndi. “These traitors attacked me! Shoot them! Now! That’s a direct order!”
Half the airmen trained their rifles on Cyndi and Lance, half on General McNeil.
Norris swung his gun toward Cyndi.
“He’s the traitor, not us!” Cyndi pleaded.
Lola Crawford darted into the office. She pointed at Cyndi and Lance. “That’s them. Those are the two lunatics who burst into my office yelling crazy nonsense.”
“Shoot them, dammit!” McNeil bellowed.
The team leader shifted his pistol back and forth. Confusion pummeled his synapses. “Everyone shut up!” He swung it back and kept his gun aimed at McNeil. “Put your gun down, sir. I need to figure out what the hell is happening here. Lower your weapon.”
McNeil glanced sideways. He was looking straight down the barrel of Norris’s Beretta. He turned back and sighted down his .38 at the center of Cyndi’s chest. His finger tightened around the trigger.
“Don’t do it!” the lieutenant screamed.
Chapter Fifty-Five
All twelve rifles swung toward McNeil.
“I’ll sort all this out
