"McKie? I figured he'd be in hiding with General Terrence," said Daniel.
"McKie stuck around the Pentagon, and landed himself a cushy job doing nothing, except managing the flow of our military's best kept secrets. That's how our country rewards traitors," said Sanderson.
"I assume he's dead," said Daniel, looking to Farrington.
"Very dead," the colonel confirmed.
Daniel sat back into the couch, processing everything he had been told, but he still couldn't make any sense of the day's events. He had assumed that the entire day had been some version of a revenge play orchestrated to cripple Al Qaeda's operations within the U.S. Sanderson could be almost childlike in his need to seek revenge, but beyond last evening's assassinations and the death of McKie, nothing else he had just heard from Sanderson fit this assumption.
"This isn't about taking Al Qaeda down, is it?" said Petrovich.
"Cutting off funds to Al Qaeda's growing U.S. presence is my gift to the U.S. government. They would have watched and waited until it was too late. But you're right, this wasn't the main event," said Sanderson.
"Then why exactly has my life been turned upside down today?" said Petrovich.
"Colonel?"
At his prompt, Colonel Farrington removed his jacket, and started unbuttoning his uniform shirt. Daniel thought he was wearing a bulletproof vest, which would be a nice addition to his own equipment list given the circumstances.
"There's gotta be an easier way to set me up for a gay striptease act," said Daniel, and Parker laughed.
"Always quick with a joke, even under extreme duress. You know, this was one of the key indicators that you were a good match for my program. My staff psychologists spent more time than you can imagine examining your reactions to stress. You were by far their favorite," said Sanderson.
"Glad I could amuse someone. My wife finds it annoying," he said, and his mind flashed to Jessica, but was jarred out of the thought by Farrington.
"The entire file," he said, handing the light tan colored nylon vest to General Sanderson.
"Thank you, Richard. Excellent work. Simply flawless execution on your part," he said, and looked at Daniel while he ripped open the velcro straps to expose the contents of the vest.
Daniel started to sink into himself, and felt his focus narrow. If the entire day's events had been orchestrated to steal top secret information for Sanderson's benefit, he would kill all three of them in their seats without hesitation, and take his chances on the outside. He had all of the money and papers he'd need to disappear with Jessica forever, even with the U.S. government and Sanderson's people on his trail. Money bought security and anonymity in warmer climates.
He watched Sanderson and Parker closely, as Farrington announced he would change into civilian clothes. This would be his best opportunity. With the colonel out of the room, and the other two preoccupied with the papers in the vest, he could put the MP-9 into action within a second. He desperately wanted to cut the General's strings for good, and was convinced that the only way he could ever disentangle himself permanently from Sanderson was to kill him. Five years on his own, and the man walked right back in to unravel everything. All for this file? None of this made any sense.
"Still thinking about killing me? I don't blame you," said Sanderson, and Daniel lunged for the backpack.
His hand grasped the submachine gun's pistol grip, and flipped the safety off before anyone reacted, but he didn't start firing. Instead, he rushed around the table, and placed the gun next to Parker's head, aiming at the General. Parker and Sanderson remained motionless and silent, which kept them alive.
"What's in the file?" said Daniel, mentally giving Sanderson three seconds to respond before putting a bullet through Parker's head.
"I've never seen someone move that fast. Amazing," said Sanderson.
Daniel's expression never changed as he reached three seconds, and committed to killing all of them. He could read the file for himself. His grip tensed on the gun still covered by the backpack.
"It's all that remains of the original Black Flag file, Daniel," he said, and this statement bought them some more time.
"You don't need the Black Flag file," Daniel said, as he slid the compact, black weapon out of the backpack, and shifted to a position behind Sanderson's chair.
"You're right. I don't need it. I need to destroy it."
"General, you know how my mind works better than anyone…"
"Better than you," Sanderson interrupted.
"Then you know I'm not seeing a reason to keep any of you alive right now," said Petrovich.
"I needed to remove all remaining traces of Black Flag from the official archives, Daniel. Destroy any link to the dozens of graduates still out there. The ones not already reactivated," he said, and turned his body around in the chair to face Daniel, "I'm restarting the program."
The words hit him like a gale force wind, quickly followed by General Sanderson's iron grip to a pressure point located on Daniel's wrist. Sanderson squeezed the pressure point with brutal force, causing Petrovich's trigger hand to reflexively open and lose its hold. Parker swung around the chair at the same moment, aiming a martial arts kick at his throat, which forced Daniel to abandon his remaining grip on the weapon to parry the potentially devastating attack. He felt the weapon slip away, and knew he was essentially screwed. Oddly, the General released the pressure point, giving him a chance.
He backed out of Parker's immediate hand-to-hand combat range, but the former SEAL pressed the attack, while General Sanderson removed the ammunition from the submachine gun. Petrovich didn't have much time to process why Sanderson was doing this, while blocking a series of judo style hand chops, and launching his own retaliatory strikes. His forearms burned from each blocked chop, but he managed to get inside of Parker's balance line, and swept the commando's legs. Parker toppled back, nearly falling over the table laden with computer equipment. In a flash, Petrovich retrieved the knife hidden in his front pocket and flicked it open, switching to a reverse grip.
"That's enough! Put the knife away!" yelled General Sanderson, and Daniel glanced in his direction long enough to see Farrington emerge from one of the bedrooms aiming a silenced pistol at him. "That won't be necessary either, Colonel," Sanderson announced, and Farrington reluctantly lowered the weapon.
Sensing no immediate danger from anyone in the room, Petrovich closed the blade and focused on one of the computer screens.
"This is my house. What the fuck is going on here?" he said, staring at a screen with at least a dozen camera feeds.
"Every location was raided about an hour ago. Simultaneously. Of course, nobody was home," he said.
"My wife was home," said Daniel.
"She'll be fine. She can take care of herself," said Sanderson.
Daniel stared at the screens for a few seconds, and walked back over to the group standing near the couch. He had a little more respect now for Parker's skills. The former Navy commando's hand-to-hand skills were impressive, but lacked the depth that could only be acquired by applying these skills in real situations, where your life depended on the outcome. Schoolhouse skills, but pretty damn good.
"You're already training new operatives?" asked Daniel.
"And recruiting old ones," replied Sanderson.
"I'm not interested."
"Suit yourself, but I'll still require your help with our CIA problem."
"And then I'm finished."