“Ms. Cohen, if I may, I think it would be best that your family be taken out of harm’s way as soon as possible,” said Kimball.
“I agree.” She pointed to Gary. “Perhaps to his mother’s home in California—”
“No, ma’am. If your attackers are who I think they are, then you’ll only place them in jeopardy as well. These people will stop at nothing to gain whatever it is they want.”
“I don’t have anything.”
“Obviously you do.”
“Then where would my family go?”
“To the archdiocese,” said Isaiah. “Your husband will be treated for his injuries, and your children will be absolutely safe.”
Shari turned to Gary. “I’m sorry you’re in this mess, but I think it best that you and the children are in a safe place.”
“You won‘t get no argument out of me,” he told her. He turned to Kimball. “So when do we leave?”
“Isaiah will take you there as soon as you’re ready.”
“And what about you?” asked Gary, turning to his wife.
She looked at the contoured sheet stained with the dead man’s blood. “I’ve got to find out why this happened.”
“Mr. Cohen, I don’t know why, but for some reason they’re trying to kill your wife. And I believe the answer is here in this apartment. Obviously she possesses threatening information of some kind.”
The bulb of enlightenment went off in Shari’s head as she turned to the smashed PC. “And I think I know where.”
Kimball followed her gaze to the floor, at the computer. Good girl, he thought.
With Gary and the children safely on their way to the archdiocese, Kimball lifted the PC back to the tabletop and strengthened his alliance with Shari by telling her untold secrets.
“His name was Shady Tippet,” he said, examining the crack in the casing. “He was somebody I used to work with a long time ago.”
“Worked with? Where?”
Kimball gave a sidelong glance to Dark Lord, and then turned away. “With the government,” he replied. “And should the truth be told, The White House.”
“The White House! Doing what exactly?”
He knew she was pressing him for as much information as possible, which was fine. Brutal honesty, regardless of its content, was the first step toward trust. “We were assassins,” he told her, “working specifically under the orders of the White House, most notably the president.”
Shari remained quiet, her mind theorizing, and then she understood that Dark Lord, was sent to kill her by the most powerful man on Earth. But why?
Her voice began to shake. “Is he still…” And then her words trailed.
“An assassin for the Force Elite? I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Is that what they’re called? The Force Elite.”
“They are.”
Kimball gave a brief synopsis of the history and development of the Force, the nature of its existence and the targets involved, including a statesman who posed a threat to a one-time incumbent during his term of office, a political local.
Shari suddenly felt overwhelmed and had to fight back the sting of tears. “How do I fight against something like this? How do I fight the president of the United States? I can’t!”
Kimball gently gripped the triceps of her left arm. His voice was soft and soothing, his touch tender and supportive. “You can do this,” he told her. “You’ll never be alone in this. The Vatican is behind you. And believe me; I don’t think the United States government will want to take on the Roman Catholic Church. Do you?”
“But why? Why come after me?”
He released her arm and placed a hand on top of the PC. “I guess that’s what we’re about to find out.”
A distant chime, hardly perceptible, the incessant ringing finally gaining strength and awakening Pappandopolous from a dream that he forgot the moment he opened his eyes. Slowly, and awkwardly, he grabbed the receiver and placed it against his ear. The digital clock read 3:49 a.m. “What?”
“It’s Judas.”
Pappandopolous propped himself on his elbow. “This isn’t a secured line. You should have waited until tomorrow.”
“Don’t be paranoid. Nobody’s tapping your line.”
“Do you know what time it is?”
“Shut up and listen,” he demanded. “Have you ever heard the name Kimball Hayden?”
“No… never.”
“The name Kimball Hayden is synonymous with a ‘one-man wrecking machine.’”
“Why are you telling me this?” Pappandopolous lay back down on the pillow.
“I’m telling you this because he just took out half of Omega Team by himself… And Dark Lord is dead.”
Pappandopolous was back onto an elbow. “What about Cohen and the disc?”
“She’s very much alive and still in possession of the CD.”
“Why is this Hayden guy in the picture anyway? Who is he?”
“He’s bad news.”
Pappandopolous sat up on the edge of the bed. The bottoms of his feet touched the cold, hardwood floor. “Use whatever is left of Omega Team to get that CD. And don’t fail me again, Judas. Managing the ground troops in this matter is your responsibility.”
“I know my responsibility,” he stated defensively. “But nobody expected Kimball Hayden to be involved.”
“How much of a problem can one man be?”
Judas shook his head. It must be nice to be stupid and ignorant at the same time, he thought. If you knew Kimball Hayden, then you would know he was more than just one man. “A lot,” he finally said.
Pappandopolous sighed in obvious frustration. “You know what you have to do.” He stared briefly at the receiver before placing it back onto its cradle. For the rest of the night sleep eluded him. He lay there wondering why the cause was teetering on the balance, when it seemed to work without deficiency on paper. The answer simply escaped him. He didn’t know the name Kimball Hayden or the danger he presented.
Expelling a long, drawn out sigh, Pappandopolous picked up the phone and dialed another unsecured line. “Mr. Obadiah? George Pappandopolous. I’m afraid I have some bad news,” he said. And then he began to explain in earnest.
The PC was cracked and not in good shape. The monitor came on, but the unit did not fire up. Working his knife blade into a seam on the computer case, Kimball was able to force the CD tray from the plastic cabinet.
After extracting the CD, he held it up. “Bingo.”
Shari took the disc from Kimball. “I hope it’s not damaged,” she said, sensing something of a loss. “Everything was on this CD.”
“What about backup files?”
“Nothing,” she said. “Whatever is sent to us by colluding agencies is copied then deleted for fear that the information might be hacked by foreign entities. This is the only hard copy available.”
“Isn’t it standard policy to make more than one copy?”
“If the information is classified and graded for high level — always. And per protocol we did burn a backup CD that had been placed in the vault. But it was either improperly burned or the disc was appropriated and replaced with a bogus one. I’m not sure which. But when my people get a chance, they’ll look into it.”
“Then re-contact the source.”
She shook her head. “I did. But Mossad resent the information minus the encryptions,” she told him. “When I contacted their director, I got nothing but excuses and denials. And since the original CD was not classified as important due to it being labeled as dossiers, it wasn’t copied since dossiers can be copied anytime. Mossad knew that when I contacted them.” Shari looked at the disc. “This CD is unique, Kimball. Any information that came with it may be lost.”