Melendez, who had just arrived, joined his counterpart Munoz and aimed toward the house, searching for movement. Daniel placed his rifle next to Paracha and put his hands under the dying man's back, kneeling behind his head. He lifted Paracha's upper torso onto his knees to elevate his chest and head. When he removed his arms from under Paracha, they were slick with dark, red blood. He held them up for a few seconds, before wiping them on the side of his khaki pants. All they could do at this point was make him feel a little more comfortable. He'd be unconscious in less than a minute. Fayed crouched next to Paracha and spoke.
"We'll make sure this was worth it," Fayed said, squeezing Tariq's shoulder.
"Fucking right we will," Daniel added.
Paracha tried to talk, but they heard nothing more than an incoherent rasp.
"Take it easy, buddy. Take it easy," he said soothingly.
The operative's hands started to ease away from his neck, and Daniel felt his body relax. When his arms fell to the stone, Fayed closed his eyes and glared at Mills and Jackson. Daniel tracked his murderous stare, while he eased Paracha's body to the stone and retrieved his rifle.
"Fayed, take Melendez and clear the house. Bring me Mills' family," he said and leaned in to whisper in his ear. "They'll pay for this. Don't worry."
Fayed nodded with a hard look on his face and climbed the deck with Melendez, disappearing into the house.
"You're hit pretty bad," Munoz said.
"I hadn't noticed," Daniel said, walking up to Harding's corpse.
He took hold of Harding's shirt with both hands and lifted him out of the chair, swinging him over the splintered teak table and splashing Jackson Greely with bloody brain matter. The table collapsed under the weight, spilling Harding onto the patio in front of an empty chair. Daniel stepped over Harding and took a seat, resting his feet on the dead man's chest. He stared at the two men, noting that each of them shook slightly. Greely's face had been decorated with clumps of deep scarlet matter, and Mills' nose still streamed blood. Despite the shock of having their world collapse around them, they looked surprisingly composed. He'd quickly change that.
"Gentlemen, I've been at this for nearly forty-eight hours. I'm tired, and I've just been informed that I'm bleeding, so let me save you the bullshit. We don't work for the FBI, CIA or Department of Defense. We work for an independent organization that has no rules or boundaries. This is a point you need to understand before I ask the million-dollar question because there won't be a referee to step in and save you," Daniel said, shifting his rifle from Greely to Mills.
"And there's really no point in trying to resist. True America is finished. We found the facility used to contaminate the bottled water, and we stopped the last convoy at the distribution center. We're tracking four additional convoys, which will be intercepted within the hour."
Greely stole a glance at Mills, who tried to pretend he didn't see it.
"Don't get excited. We know there's one more convoy. We just don't know how to find it. That's the million-dollar question we've been sent to ask, before the federal task force sitting in Scranton descends on Honesdale. By my watch, we have at least another ninety minutes. The president gave us ample time to obtain this information. Even if we have to do this the hard way, I can't imagine needing more than ten. Your friend here makes a nice leg rest," Petrovich said, shifting his feet.
Screaming erupted from the house, causing Mills to stand. Munoz barked at him to sit back down, raising the rifle over his head to ensure his compliance. Daniel turned to see Fayed shove an attractive blond woman and two middle-school-aged girls toward the stairway leading down to the patio. Mills' wife was dressed in black designer jeans and a tight pink blouse. Her daughters were dressed more conservatively in jeans and brightly colored sweaters. Fayed yelled at them as they protested.
"Line them up on the edge of the pool!" Daniel yelled.
"You need to leave them out of this! You son of a bitch!"
Mills tried to launch out of his chair, but Munoz had anticipated his outburst and smashed the butt of his rifle down on his left shoulder, cracking his collarbone. The sound of the bone snapping could be heard over the metallic crash of the rifle. Mills' wife grabbed both of her daughters' hands and tried to run over to her husband, but Fayed snatched the dark-haired daughter out of her grip, stopping Sue Ellen Mills in her tracks. Melendez grabbed the woman by the neck and strong-armed her over to the pool, followed by Fayed with both of the terrified girls.
"How do you want them?" Fayed yelled.
"Line them up side by side, like a firing squad."
Daniel lifted himself up from the chair, careful not to put any pressure on his left arm. He winced and exhaled, despite his efforts to ignore the pain. Munoz came up next to him.
"You all right?" he whispered. "You're losing blood."
"I'm good for now. Small entry and exit wound. Passed right through."
He knew that Munoz was right. Judging by the amount of blood soaked into the light brown chair cushion, he was about ten minutes away from fading into unconsciousness. He felt all right at the moment, a little dizzy from the initial blood loss, but most of his attention was still focused on the pain. The sharp, searing sensation had been joined by a dull, agonizing ache that had spread through his arm and into his chest. The bullet had missed the coracoid process of his scapula, a small hook-like bone connected to the clavicle, likely passing through the ligament connecting the two and causing a cascade of muscle tightening and ligament inflammation throughout his body. Once on his feet, he could barely raise his left arm, but retained the function of his elbow and forearm. His fingers felt tingly, but he could still tightly grip the M1A's hand guard.
"This whole thing is bigger than all of us. You're patriots. I can tell you've served the nation honorably, but your country has lost its way. We're going to change all of that and put America back on its feet. Back on the track to a New Recovery," Jackson Greely said, gesturing grandly to the sky.
"By poisoning the U.N. and detonating a suicide bomb at the National Counterterrorism Center?"
"This is a historical day for our citizens. Deep down inside, I know you agree," he added.
"Have you lost your fucking mind? True America is gone. Can't you see that? Not only your little nightmare group, but the whole movement. There's no way the mainstreamers will survive the bad press associated with your plot. The Republicans and Democrats will make sure of that. This might be the first time in years that they actually agree on something. It's a real shame, actually. True America was on the path to providing an alternative to the two-party system. I heard they might have fielded a viable presidential candidate next year."
Jackson Greely didn't respond. Daniel looked at Mills, who looked deflated and scared.
"Things were cooking along nicely until you put this plan into action. Something to think about while you're rotting in prison," Daniel said.
"It would have taken forever," Greely stated.
"And you might have missed out on the chance to sit at the big table. Where is the last convoy headed, Jackson? The least you can do is salvage a speck of dignity from this mess you've created."
"You can kiss my—"
A single gunshot erupted from Daniel's rifle, catching Greely under the nose and blasting the back of his head into the bushes behind him. He remained upright in the chair for a moment before toppling sideways. Mills' wife and two daughters screamed uncontrollably as Owen Mills tried to launch himself at Daniel.
"Time to rearrange the furniture. I want him turned to face the ladies," he said.
Daniel slung the rifle over his shoulder and walked behind Mills, grabbing him around the neck with his forearm.