The man stared down at Sean with a look colder than the icicles on the trees around them.
"So, should I have him go ahead and begin, or do you want to skip all that pain and just tell me what you were doing looking around the museum?"
Sean drew a long, icy breath through his nose. He returned the stoic glare to the man in charge. "Drew Porter, is it?" he asked. Before the man could answer, Sean went on. "I thought that was you. CIA if I recall correctly. You were a good agent. Showed a lot of promise, from what I remember. Emily considered you for Axis at one point. Said your psychological didn't check out. That's a bummer. What was it? Oh, that's right. I remember now. The shrink said you had a problem with authority, that you would probably break the rules."
"Don't believe everything you hear from a shrink," Drew said.
"Hey, I don't judge it. I've been known to break a few rules myself. Shame it didn't work out with Axis. I can tell you're a real swell guy. Most people would have made me dig the grave myself. Not you, though." Sean looked over at the guys by the dirt mound. "Thanks to you two, by the way. I imagine digging that must have taken a while, what with the dirt being frozen and all. Hope you didn't blister your fingers."
Sean's comment was received with a hard backhand across his cheek. The frigid air made it sting more than normal, and he cringed for a second until the pain subsided.
"Answer the question, Sean, or I have him take out your kneecap."
Sean shook his head slowly. He was out of time. These guys wouldn't give him the chance to stall. The only reason they hadn't killed him yet was because they wanted information. How they were CIA and didn't already know the answers puzzled him.
There were more questions, too. What were they trying to cover up at the Seward estate? Why was the CIA involved? He didn't have to wonder how they knew he was snooping around. The CIA was good at keeping watch of important things. He'd probably been under surveillance for some time, though he wondered why they hadn't apprehended him sooner.
His mind raced with the possibilities. What had he learned in the last few days that would have triggered this kind of response from the CIA? And were these men rogue or acting on orders from their official chain of command?
He wouldn't get the answers right now, but he would eventually. That is, if he managed to escape.
Sean decided to play the ultimate trump card and see what would happen. It might give him at least a few of the answers he needed.
"The president sent me here," he said. The blunt response did little to change the demeanor of Porter and his men.
"And why did the president send you here?"
Sean shrugged. "I don't know. He wanted me to take a look at some historical stuff at Seward's mansion. You know I work for an archaeological agency, right? I mean, we do this sort of thing all the time."
"So, the president knows about Denali," Porter said. "Very well. I suppose he will have to die, too."
Sean's eyebrows cinched together. What did that guy just say? Kill the president? Not what Sean expected.
"Whoa, take it easy there, Drew. Dawkins has nothing to do with this. And I don't know what you're talking about with Denali."
"Oh, but you just said he sent you here to investigate something. Now, what was it he wanted you to look into?"
"He didn't say. All he told me was that he wanted me to talk to the museum curator and ask to see the archives. I've been on this project for a few months now and haven't found anything useful." He hoped they bought the lie.
"You mean, in regards to the letter?" Porter held up the letter the president had given Sean.
Well, it was worth a try, Sean thought, considering his effort at misdirection.
Porter and his men must have seized it from Sean's room. He'd hidden it away in a tattered folder. Apparently, he hadn't done a good enough job of concealing the secret document.
Sean raised an eyebrow. "Yes, that's the one." He made the faux confession with a broad, exaggerated grin. "I guess I forgot… That letter mentions Denali, doesn't it? My mistake."
"Not a problem," Porter said. "You won't be around long enough to meddle anymore. And neither will your friend in the White House."
Porter looked up at the man holding Sean at gunpoint and gave a nod. Sean saw Porter take a step back and knew the man was moving out of the splash radius.
Sean squeezed the little black disk in his palm and let it dangle from his fingers.
"If you're going to kill me," he said, "the least you can do is look me in the eyes, Drew."
Porter stopped and crossed his arms. "Oh, I intend to."
The patch of clear sky above gave way to another front of dark gray clouds, an ominous sign from the heavens.
Sean didn't have a moment to lose. He dropped the device into the snow behind his feet and closed his eyes tight. He felt the gun press harder into his skull for a second and then pull away as the gunman was about to fire.
A loud pop came from behind Sean's back.
Chapter 2
Sean felt a surge of heat rush past his legs and up his back as his eyelids brightened for a second from the flash of light the device gave off.
The gunman behind him screamed. Porter yelled something unintelligible. Sean fell to his side just as the gunman blindly squeezed the trigger. The weapon fired, sending a round plunging into the snow beyond where Sean's head had been a second before.
Sean rolled onto his knees, wrapped his hands around the weapon, and twisted while jamming his elbow into the man's forearm. The gunman yelped, bending down on one knee as Sean continued to wrench the appendage until he heard the bone break. Then the screaming grew louder.
As the gunman craned his neck back, Sean rose from his knees and chopped the bridge of his hand into the man's throat. The yelling stopped instantly, and the guy fell face-first into the snow, clutching his neck as he desperately gasped for air that would not come.
Sean raised the weapon to aim it at Porter, but the head man had managed to stumble over to the SUV and take cover behind the hood. Sean spun around and whipped his leg out to sweep the other guard's ankles. The top of his foot struck the man on the lower calf. Combined with the temporary blindness, the sudden blow knocked him off balance.
The guard fell hard onto his back and scrambled to get up. Sean spun to his feet and pounced, driving his knee into the guard's temple. The man collapsed to the snow, unconscious… possibly dead. Sean didn't have time to check.
The two men near the shovels were the first to recover from the flash bang. Being several yards away kept them at a safe enough distance that the sudden bright light only blinded them for a few seconds.
Sean grabbed the dead gunman from the snow and propped him up as a human shield as he fired over the man's shoulder. The first two rounds missed, exploding in the snow around the two shooters' feet. The third caught one guy in the thigh and dropped him to the ground.
The other opened fire, peppering Sean's human shield with a dozen rounds before he had to reload.
Sean dropped the body back into the snow and stood up, raising his weapon to eye level. He took a menacing step forward and fired a single shot. The bullet thumped into the shooter's chest. He wavered for a second, still holding his new magazine, and then toppled backward.
Another gunshot rang out from the SUV.
Porter and his last henchmen were tucked behind the truck's open doors. Sean whipped around and took aim. His first two shots plunked into white car paint. The shooters kept firing. Sean was out in the open, an easy target for expert marksmen, even from forty feet away.
Sean took a step back as he aimed for Porter's feet that were exposed under the door. As he was about to squeeze the trigger, a bullet caught him in the upper right part of his chest. His weapon fired as he staggered backward, losing his balance.