The airfield came into view. Mindy saw the police vehicles. She panicked. The words of the female pilot, 'five years' echoed in her ears, as did the phrase, 'fresh meat.' She knew the term's meaning. Fresh meat referred to prison's new inmates, especially the attractive ones while the 'nasties, were the hardened lesbian prisoners who demanded first use of the 'lovelies.' She'd rather be dead. Had she left it too late to negotiate?

Mindy's resistance buckled. "What do you want?"

"Names, dates and detail," Rachel replied.

"They'll kill me."

"Face facts, Mindy and think about the type of people we're talking about. They make the laws, they manipulate the laws and then they abuse the laws. And they practice one very simple philosophy when it comes to their activities. They leave no evidence and no witnesses."

"Your fate was determined the instant you flagged down this helicopter. For you now, there is no hiding place, these people have eyes everywhere."

"But the Senator promised."

"I thought you said he was dead?"

"That was his idea."

"And you trusted him?" Realisation hit Rachel hard. She recognised both futility and trap. There were too many police vehicles in attendance. It was overkill. This wasn't to be a simple arrest and detain operation. It was a full-scale military operation. McIntosh had called on friends for assistance.

"Sorry." No one understood Rachel's expression of regret. Nor did they have the opportunity to respond. McIntosh had achieved his aim. And every eye-witness would tell the same story, the aircraft just exploded in flame. No one on the ground saw the sniper or heard the shot.


In Calin's world, death was often an unavoidable reality. While specific details still eluded him, his actions of the past two weeks suggested he was skilled both in violence and in death. He had killed, he was sure of that but he carried no guilt. Like a soldier he killed to survive and to complete his mission. He required no explanations. He just obeyed orders. It was that simple.
He had learned so much about himself since the farmstead. He had killed, stolen, lied and made poor judgements. More importantly, he had survived.

Regardless of the circumstances, he'd neither fired up in anger nor had he attempted to apportion blame. Casualties had occurred, errors had been made but recriminations achieved nothing. The irritation of another soldiering adage came to mind. A good soldier remains focused and a focused soldier remains alive.

Jess slept as they motored east on I-90. They had just crossed the Minnesota State line. Country music flowed from the radio. He enjoyed these moments alone, it allowed time to think and plan. If only he could remember.

Once again the radio started to drift. It was time to locate a new provider of music. Some of these small town radio transmitters had a limited range. Calin checked his watch. It was almost the top of the hour. Perhaps it was time for a summary of the day's news rather than music. The news jingle, a catchy little piano piece, introduced the newsreader.

'Good afternoon, it's eight o'clock on a beautiful evening in Sioux Falls. I'm Murray Stafford.

'More details are emerging as investigators scour the wreckage of that helicopter crash in Montana a couple of hours ago. Police have confirmed there was a call requesting assistance approximately fifteen minutes prior to the aircraft's scheduled landing. While details are sketchy, an unconfirmed report suggests six passengers including the pilot. All are dead.' Calin listened without any great interest.

'The aircraft was chartered earlier in the day by a young reporter....' Calin didn't need to hear a name, he knew and his pulse soared. His brain went into lockdown. It was no accident. Only once before had he experienced such anger.
Another young woman had died on that occasion too. And again it was because of him. Someone had paid then, and McIntosh would pay now.

Only Fiona wasn't just a girl, she was his fiancée. Memories flooded back.

He needed to stop, clear his head of emotion. Fiona was then, Rachel was now. He mustn't confuse the two. One he loved; the other he'd never met. But they were both dead, because of an association with him.

Then there was Jess. The prospect of her being killed chilled him to the bone. Why? He owed her his life. He'd defend her to his final breath.


Jess sat up as the Camry drew to a halt. "Why are we stopping?" She sensed rather than saw his distress. "What's wrong, Calin?"

"Rachel's dead." He told of the news report.

"It's not your fault," she replied.

"I'm not stopping until he's dead." The voice was cold, determined and not open to discussion. "This is your chance, Jess. Get out now. Calin Roberts is back."

"What do you mean back?"

"I know who Calin Roberts is."

"I'm listening."

"In truth he doesn't exist, never did. He was a creation of fiction, a rogue off-the-books character employed by the Pentagon. He was the go-to man when situations blew out of control. The assassin who took on the impossible and the scapegoat when things went wrong."

"Who then was responsible for all the actions attributed to him?"

"It's all coming back to me. The tasks assigned to Calin Roberts were rotated between five operatives; I was one of the five."

"Did you kill Alex Bryant?" Jess asked.

"No."

"Do you know who did?"

"No, but I intend to find out."

"What about Marvin Trent?"

"I don't know. And the same applies to Walford. But I do know the weapon found at the scene wasn't involved in the crime though I'd be prepared to bet that very same gun has been listed by the investigators as the murder weapon."

"Can they do that?"

"'He who makes the rules is best equipped to break them.' I can't remember who said that, but he sure got it right. And the sad thing is it's a policy practiced by many of the Department heads in Washington. Accountability only applies when you're caught red-handed."

"So, what's next? Alex Bryant's killer or McIntosh?"

"First things first," he replied. "Jess, do yourself a favour. Go home. You don't belong in this world."



"Answer me one question honestly, Calin." She looked him in the eye, her tone tense. "Do you really believe I'll be safer at my mother's? They know who I am. In that sense I'm just as much a threat to them as you. You know they'll come after me. Or is this just your subtle way of getting me out of the way?"

"Jess."

"Don't Jess me." She turned away from him. She didn't want him to see the tears. Jess was astonished by his response. He came up behind her, turned her around and embraced her. His lips found hers. He pulled away.

"Jess, can't you see, I'm a cancer." Emotion was obvious; she'd not seen this fragility before. Rachel's death had brought on both guilt and self-doubt. "Anyone who gets close to me dies."

"You need me, Calin Roberts."

"I'll find you when it's all over."

"You won't have to look far, because I'll be by your side."