One Rough Man - Brad Taylor [180]
“Can you still make it look like a suicide?”
The team leader studied the dead man for a few seconds. “Possibly. He’s been shot in the temple at close range, and there’s no exit wound, so it was a small-caliber weapon. That works.” He pulled out the .22 rim-fire handgun they’d taken from Standish’s bedroom earlier in the day. “The problem is that a ballistics check will show the bullet inside his head didn’t come from the gun I’m going to leave in his hand.”
“We can work that issue. Just make sure there aren’t any other anomalies that give them a reason to look.”
“Okay. I’ll have to build a bullet trap, then squeeze off a round in his hand to get gunshot residue on him, but that’s not an issue. He’ll just be missing a phone book.”
“Get it done.”
Eight minutes later the sedan pulled away, the alarm reset, no evidence at all of a break-in. Only a dead man and a suicide note.
I WAS AWAKENED BY JENNIFER insistently poking me in the thigh.
“Pike, wake up! Look at the TV.”
I cracked my eyes open, seeing a breaking news story about someone committing suicide.
“It’s that National Security guy. He killed himself.”
Big surprise. Couldn’t see that coming. “Wow. I guess he couldn’t live with the shame.”
Jennifer looked at me suspiciously. I thought she was going to say something, but she must have thought better of it.
She turned off the TV. “Well, what now? Are we headed home?”
That depends on you.
“Kurt asked me to come back to the Taskforce,” I said.
I saw her face fall and felt the tension leave my body. This might actually work.
“That’s great,” she said, without a lot of conviction. “I know it means a lot to you. Are you going to do it?”
“I think I have a better idea. Go to my jeans and check the front right pocket.”
She did as I asked, pulling out a thumb drive.
“Is this the window-jumper’s drive?”
“Yeah. The Taskforce guys looked at it. Turns out it’s a physical key for a steganography program. You still have your uncle’s e-mail?”
She nodded.
“You want to go find a lost temple?”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First and foremost, this book is a work of fiction. There is no such thing as the Taskforce, the Oversight Council, or Omega operations, contrary to what Hollywood and some reporters want you to believe.
Pike Logan, however, is real. He represents a small fraternity that, more than anything else, is the catalyst of this book. I had the honor of serving with many, many Pike Logans, but make no mistake, I am not he. I owe them a debt of gratitude, not only for what you’re holding in your hand, but for allowing me to serve alongside them. Greater still, the nation owes them a debt of gratitude for successful operations that will never see the light of day.
When I first put pen to paper, this was, of course, the finest novel ever written. Family swooned over it. Friends begged to read it. Fortunately, it didn’t take long to realize it needed massive work to reach a level worthy of publication. Through a series of fortuitous events, I met Caroline Upcher, a freelance editor and published novelist in her own right. She has the distinction of being the singular reason you’re reading these words. She not only helped me frame the story, but literally taught a knuckle-dragger like me how to write. If any new writers are reading these words for a clue of how I managed to get published, there’s your big black X.
Even after all the work, someone still had to be willing to take a risk on an unknown. I’m indebted to John Talbot of the Talbot Fortune Agency for doing just that. When nobody else seemed willing to even want to open the Word document, he decided to see where it would go. Hopefully, it was worth the look.
As for the book itself, a huge thank-you to Major Beau Spafford, of the South Carolina Army National Guard and a James Island Red-neck, who’s currently getting shot at in Afghanistan. You won’t find anyone with more common sense. Well, I should say more common sense who’s willing to use the book as an excuse to go drink beer. He corrected innumerable inconsistencies.
To select people from my former