kindly to me being ‘taken,’ ” she explained as she eyed his profile.
His hands were steady on the wheel. This was a man on a mission. “I know exactly what you do for the DOD. You let me worry about them. You just worry about how to keep yourself alive for the next three days,” he censured as he stared ahead at the road in front of him.
“What did I do to you? Why do you want me dead?” she pleaded.
“It’s not what you did to me; it’s what you know that is going to get you killed. And I am just the man for the job. It’s better I kill you to keep what you know out of the hands of the terrorists, than you confess state secrets to the GIA,” he blurted.
He would be a hero for his actions. His boss would see the error of his ways in closing the case on the Armed Islamic Group before he had a chance to fully vet it. It was true, he worked on the case for over three years and in that time, not one message of chatter indicated a threat to any American target. All of it indicated threats against Algerian targets. Still, he wasn’t finished, he had made it his personal mission to bring down the GIA after they had taken and killed his best friend who worked as a contractor in Algeria. Once the CIA closed the case eight months ago, he took it upon himself to continue investigating. And it was a good thing he did too or he would not have found out about Emma Welby and her prototype for chemical weapon disbursement. Too bad he couldn’t go to his boss with what he had found. The first time he tried, he got his ass chewed out for still investigating in the first place. A much lower level agent was put in charge of the GIA and its subsequent chatter. That agent would deem what was a worthy threat. His boss had said Ingrams had taken things too personally; he needed someone with objectivity, and Ingrams had lost his. Lost his objectivity, Ingrams would show him. He would neutralize the threat no one else at the agency seemed concerned about. Still Ingrams knew. He knew what the GIA wanted and they weren’t going to get it; he would kill her first.
“Where are we going?” asked Emma swallowing the bile that rose in the back of her throat.
“We are taking a little ride to a cabin I rented in Wells. It is part of the Rachel Carson National Wildlife Refuge. It really is quite beautiful as the property is adjacent to the Atlantic Ocean. I even rented a boat. If I weigh you down enough, no one will ever find your body,” he expounded, as he looked straight at her.
She saw the cold, dead eyes of a man who had lost his way. She saw her death when he looked at her. He really was going to kill her. Would Michael even know where to look?
She remembered seeing Michael before they pulled away. He said he was coming for her and for her to stay safe. She would stay safe until he found her. She would use her brains and come up with a plan to keep herself safe, until Michael could get to her. He promised to protect her, but a part of her couldn’t help but doubt him now. He was left without a car. How would he ever find her in time? Ingrams had said three days. Why did he plan on keeping her alive for that specific amount of time?
Michael was five miles away from Kennebunk and ran there in under an hour. Good thing his training and work had required him to remain extremely physically fit. He still ran every morning out of habit. Coming upon the first restaurant he found, he inquired about the nearest hotel.
“Three blocks due south,” the waitress told him as a pen peeked out behind her ear.
He approached the desk clerk of the Kennebunk Inn and asked for a first floor room near the emergency exit. “Follow this hall and turn right. Your room is at the end of the hall on the right hand side,” the desk clerk explained as she pointed down the hall.
Once inside, he sat down on the bed and placed his first call. “Rob. What the fuck is going on?” he demanded, getting up to pace in front of the window.
“What are you
His hands were steady on the wheel. This was a man on a mission. “I know exactly what you do for the DOD. You let me worry about them. You just worry about how to keep yourself alive for the next three days,” he censured as he stared ahead at the road in front of him.
“What did I do to you? Why do you want me dead?” she pleaded.
“It’s not what you did to me; it’s what you know that is going to get you killed. And I am just the man for the job. It’s better I kill you to keep what you know out of the hands of the terrorists, than you confess state secrets to the GIA,” he blurted.
He would be a hero for his actions. His boss would see the error of his ways in closing the case on the Armed Islamic Group before he had a chance to fully vet it. It was true, he worked on the case for over three years and in that time, not one message of chatter indicated a threat to any American target. All of it indicated threats against Algerian targets. Still, he wasn’t finished, he had made it his personal mission to bring down the GIA after they had taken and killed his best friend who worked as a contractor in Algeria. Once the CIA closed the case eight months ago, he took it upon himself to continue investigating. And it was a good thing he did too or he would not have found out about Emma Welby and her prototype for chemical weapon disbursement. Too bad he couldn’t go to his boss with what he had found. The first time he tried, he got his ass chewed out for still investigating in the first place. A much lower level agent was put in charge of the GIA and its subsequent chatter. That agent would deem what was a worthy threat. His boss had said Ingrams had taken things too personally; he needed someone with objectivity, and Ingrams had lost his. Lost his objectivity, Ingrams would show him. He would neutralize the threat no one else at the agency seemed concerned about. Still Ingrams knew. He knew what the GIA wanted and they weren’t going to get it; he would kill her first.
“Where are we going?” asked Emma swallowing the bile that rose in the back of her throat.
“We are taking a little ride to a cabin I rented in Wells. It is part of the Rachel Carson National Wildlife Refuge. It really is quite beautiful as the property is adjacent to the Atlantic Ocean. I even rented a boat. If I weigh you down enough, no one will ever find your body,” he expounded, as he looked straight at her.
She saw the cold, dead eyes of a man who had lost his way. She saw her death when he looked at her. He really was going to kill her. Would Michael even know where to look?
She remembered seeing Michael before they pulled away. He said he was coming for her and for her to stay safe. She would stay safe until he found her. She would use her brains and come up with a plan to keep herself safe, until Michael could get to her. He promised to protect her, but a part of her couldn’t help but doubt him now. He was left without a car. How would he ever find her in time? Ingrams had said three days. Why did he plan on keeping her alive for that specific amount of time?
Michael was five miles away from Kennebunk and ran there in under an hour. Good thing his training and work had required him to remain extremely physically fit. He still ran every morning out of habit. Coming upon the first restaurant he found, he inquired about the nearest hotel.
“Three blocks due south,” the waitress told him as a pen peeked out behind her ear.
He approached the desk clerk of the Kennebunk Inn and asked for a first floor room near the emergency exit. “Follow this hall and turn right. Your room is at the end of the hall on the right hand side,” the desk clerk explained as she pointed down the hall.
Once inside, he sat down on the bed and placed his first call. “Rob. What the fuck is going on?” he demanded, getting up to pace in front of the window.
“What are you
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