“What’s this all about?” Blunt asked, shielding his eyes from the bright beam.
“You have a visitor,” the man said. “Come here so I can escort you to an interview room.”
“If it’s all the same, I’d rather just stay here. Nobody knows where I am, and I’d prefer not to speak to anyone.”
The guard grunted. “This isn’t a request.”
Blunt sighed and shuffled across the room to the guard. He secured Blunt’s hands behind his back and then fastened him to the ladder.
“Bring him up,” the guards said.
Blunt slowly rose as a mechanism drew up the ladder. Atop the room, three armed guards attended to Blunt before ushering him down a hallway. They led him into the interview room and affixed his handcuffs to the table and his feet to the legs in the chair.
“Don’t get any bright ideas,” one of the guards said. “We’ll be right outside that door and happy to come in and crack your skull if you get out of line. Are we clear?”
Blunt shrugged. “I guess you’ll find out.”
One of the other guards chuckled. “I like roughing up the smart asses the most.”
“Then you just might be in for a fun day of work,” Blunt said with a sneer.
“Two hits, old man,” the guard replied. “I hit you. You hit the floor.”
Blunt raised his eyebrows. “I’d really like to test out your theory.”
“And I’d let you if you weren’t about to be interviewed.”
“Excuses, excuses,” Blunt said.
The man made a quick move, dipping his shoulder toward Blunt. But the Phoenix Foundation director didn’t even blink.
“It’ll take a lot more than that to get me to flinch,” Blunt said with a chuckle. “I hope your bite is as good as your bark.”
The man scowled at Blunt before exiting the room. The door closed with a thud, echoing off the stark cinderblock walls. He’d been in rooms like these a hundred times before, but never on the accused’s side of the table. As he waited, he could only imagine who might take up a seat across from him.
Blunt closed his eyes and looked up, enjoying the brief moment of life. The psychology of keeping someone in the dark was powerful. Government interrogation research had long since found that sensory deprivation produced enhanced cooperation during questioning. While the psychological effects were harsh, they were short-lived, enabling U.S. military and the intelligence community to utilize such means to get information guilt-free.
But Blunt wouldn’t break easily.
He drummed his fingers on the table and could only hope that his team had found refuge. As for himself, Blunt knew that this was likely the end of everything. He’d served his country honorably, both in the U.S. Senate and in intelligence. Though Young was trying to throw Blunt under the bus, he would spend the rest of his days in prison proud of what he’d done, all while understanding that none of it may have mattered in the end. Greed was always going to be the ruin the country, that much he’d witnessed first-hand while serving in Congress. And now Blunt was about to succumb to it, becoming the fall guy for an operation that was pre-ordained to go wrong.
It was a helluva ride.
Blunt smiled as he thought about his recruitment of Brady Hawk, a young man who’d almost become like a son.
If only I could get him to drink bourbon every once in a while.
And then there was Alex, who was equally as talented as her counterpart. The fact that the two agents had fallen in love didn’t surprise Blunt. He half expected it, if he was honest. As the minutes trickled by, he reminisced about every agent he’d led while at Firestorm and then the Phoenix Foundation. Titus Black, Christina Shields, Helenos-9, better known as Mia. They were all like his children, and he was proud of every one of them. All he cared about was keeping them safe. They didn’t deserve any trumped-up charges that would be levied against them by the people who’d infiltrated the U.S. government and corrupted it beyond recognition. And he’d do whatever it took to keep them far away.
When the door swung open, Blunt’s eyebrows shot upward as he recognized the man who strode inside.
“I certainly didn’t expect to see you here,” Blunt said.
President Young slammed the door behind him before taking up the seat across from Blunt. “Extraordinary circumstances require extraordinary measures, Mr. Blunt.”
Blunt furrowed his brow. “So, that’s how this is gonna go? I’m Mr. Blunt to you now? You can try to dehumanize me all you want, or just pretend like we never had a relationship, or act like it wasn’t me and my team who saved your daughter’s life this summer. But deep down, you can’t escape the truth. It will haunt you in your dreams, stalking you like a wild beast hunts its prey. You’ll never get away from it.”
“I’m not interested in any of your bullshit right now.”
“Bullshit? Is that what you think this is? Everything I’m saying is the straight truth. You just don’t want to hear it.”
“Enough,” Young said as he slammed his fist on the table. “I don’t have time for this.”
“Apparently you do because here you are, the leader of the free world, talking to me, Mr. Blunt, in some black ops prison site. It’s almost like we’re at a G5 Summit.”
Young didn’t react. “Where’s your team?”
“Hell if I know. You’re the one with unlimited resources and connections all over the world. Meanwhile, for the past couple of days I’ve been bounced around from one cell to another, deprived of my due process. So, pardon me if I don’t know where my team is.”
Young fished a cell phone out of his pocket and placed it in the center of the table.
“What’s this?” Blunt asked. “You’re finally going to let me call my lawyer?”
“Haven’t you already heard that your lawyer is dead?”
“I might know another one. I’ve been in Washington for a few years.”
Young sighed. “You’re going to make one call, but it won’t be
