“Isn’t it obvious? We're trying to get a pronghorn, which at the moment feels about the same as trying to catch these terrorists infiltrating our country and government. They’re everywhere.”
“It’s becoming far more difficult to tell friend from foe these days.”
Blunt nodded. “Back in the day, we only had to look at someone to tell whose side they were on. But with the way Obsidian has infected our government, the enemy could be sitting right next to us and look just like we do.”
Wickham scanned the plateau through his binoculars. “So, what are we gonna do about it?”
“We’re gonna snuff them out, no matter how long it takes. And we’ll remind people what’s made this country the greatest one in the world.”
“And what’s that?”
“Our undying devotion to freedom. We’ll do anything to protect it for ourselves and help others preserve it. Freedom actually matters to us.”
“As much as I want to believe this was about snagging a pronghorn, I think you really want to discuss some things.”
Blunt nodded. “You’ve known me long enough to know that I’m not one to beat around the bush.”
“Ain’t that the truth. So, let’s hear it. How are we gonna stop Obsidian from rotting our government to the core?”
“We’re gonna deal with it the same way we handle Texas rattlesnakes,” Blunt said. “You chop the head off.”
“Do you know who’s pulling the strings at Obsidian?”
Blunt picked up his binoculars and zeroed in on some movement on the horizon.
“See one?” Wickham asked.
“No, just a wild mustang kicking up dust,” Blunt said, putting his binoculars down and directing his gaze at Wickham. “How familiar are you with Falcon Sinclair?”
“The Australian billionaire space entrepreneur?”
Blunt nodded.
“I don’t know too much about him,” Wickham said. “I just know he’s trying to make space tourism a real thing. And from what I understand, he’s giving Elon Musk a run for his money.”
“He’s also orchestrating a world takeover,” Blunt said. “And I don’t mean that in some metaphorical sense. Obsidian has agents all over the place or has compromised someone to do their bidding.”
“Have they approached you?” Wickham asked.
“Not exactly, but they’ve tried to strong arm me into doing some things for them.”
“And I trust you told them no.”
Blunt kicked at the dirt. “Those bastards could offer me all the money in the world to give Falcon Sinclair a glass of water, and I wouldn’t lift a finger.”
“Well, I know there have been a few agents contacted, but they’ve reported the solicitation.”
“That you know of,” Blunt said.
“Sure, one or two of our agents could be on their payroll. But these guys are hard to reach without someone else knowing it. They do a good job of policing themselves.”
“But you can’t be positive, can you?”
“Not really. But we can monitor all their communiques outside of their work parameters. They know they’re being spied on, which also dissuades that type of criminal behavior.”
“Again though, you can’t be positive that Obsidian doesn’t have a couple of your guys feeding information back to Sinclair?”
“Well, no. But I know every single one of those men and—”
“Sinclair is trying to meet with the president,” Blunt said, cutting off Wickham.
Wickham furrowed his brow. “Wait. What?”
“You heard me. Sinclair wants to meet with Young.”
“What for?”
Blunt shrugged. “At this point, I’m not sure. But I can only guess that it’s to entice him to do something that will benefit Obsidian.”
“Well, that’s news to me,” Wickham said. “And every single off-site meeting must be vetted by our staff before it’s approved. If Sinclair is trying to get a captive audience with Young, that’s not going to happen unless we’re able to sweep the area and do thorough background checks to make sure there’s not a bad apple floating around the party meeting with the president. And you and I both know Sinclair would never agree to such stipulations.”
“Sinclair would find a way around that somehow,” Blunt said.
“Then I have to stop Young from meeting with him.”
“That seems like the safest approach, but, again, we want to cut off the head of the snake, not just subdue it.”
“What did you have in mind then?”
“Use Young to help us gather intel on Sinclair.”
Wickham eyed Blunt closely. “You want the president to be a spy?”
Blunt nodded. “It’s brilliant, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s lunacy. There’s no telling what Sinclair would do to him if he found out, especially while they were meeting privately.”
“Your men will be there with him, won’t they?”
“One of them will be, per our standard protocol.”
“Then let one of my agents go as a Secret Service agent and be the one in the room with Young. You know that my agents are more than capable of handling a situation like this.”
Wickham sighed. “You know I can’t do that, J.D.”
“What’s stopping you? Some ridiculous precedent? Throw that stuff out the window because we’re all venturing into uncharted waters right now. If the president is meeting with a powerbroker, not for the interest of his own nation, but for his own selfish reasons, we’re doomed. When will this end? This is our opportunity to do something about it.”
“It’s not that I don’t trust your guys, but I can’t do that.”
“Come on, George. You know this is a golden chance to make headway in pulling the covers back on Obsidian. If you won’t let Young spy, at least let one of my guys do it for you—and all while keeping Young safe.”
“No, you come on, J.D. If you’ve got an agent preoccupied with gathering intel, his focus isn’t going to be on the president. And protecting Young—that’s the job. I think we’d be better off just convincing Young to reject any overtures from Sinclair.”
“I’m afraid it might be too late for that,” Blunt said.
“What are you not telling me?”
“Sinclair was at the First Lady’s funeral and spoke with Young afterward.”
“And you were privy to their conversation?” Wickham asked.
“No, but—”
“Then don’t worry about it. I’ll do my best to make sure Young doesn’t set foot anywhere near Sinclair.”
“I think that’d be a mistake,” Blunt said.
“Look,
