Townsend sat pensive, searching through the database of his mind. “Could be anyone. The nature of my commission pisses off a lot of knowledgeable, well-connected people. Some top-level personnel have lost everything because of me. And that’s a pretty long list.”
“Anyone recently?”
He shook his head. “Not that I can think of.”
“Who was the last person you spoke with today or this week about anything?”
Sam’s reluctance was obvious as he paused before answering. “I spoke with Emily Starks. Saw her this morning.”
Eric seemed surprised at this new revelation. “Axis? Why?”
“We are doing an audit of their agency in the coming months, and I just wanted to extend the courtesy to her for her help in the past. I simply made her aware that we were going to need to see some documents and reports. Nothing major.”
“Ahh.”
Jennings seemed to accept the lie.
Silence pervaded the room for a minute. A timer went off in the kitchen, startling both men.
“I put a pizza in the oven earlier. You hungry?”
Jennings shook his head. “No thanks.”
Sam stood up and disappeared through a doorway that led into the kitchen. The sounds of the oven opening and other items rattling echoed into the empty living room.
Townsend hurriedly slid the pizza onto a pan on the counter and closed the oven. As he turned around to leave the kitchen, his face turned ashen as he stared down the barrel of a sound suppressed Glock. Eric Jennings stood in the doorway with a stern look on his face.
“What are you doing?” Townsend asked, frozen in place.
“Isn’t it obvious, Sam? You come to me and threaten me about my operations. You say that I’m up to something and that you want a piece of the pie.” He shook his head and took a step forward, extending the gun further towards his target.
“What? That’s what this is all about?”
“You have no idea the people I work for, Sam. You think you’re so special with your little ‘all-access pass’ the government gave you. The people I work for own the government! And they don’t like it when outsiders start snooping around.”
Fear flooded the younger man’s eyes. “Look, Eric. I didn’t talk to anyone. I didn’t tell anyone anything. You have to believe me.”
The older man shook his head. “You said you talked to Emily earlier.”
“About audits! Nothing else. She doesn’t know anything about your little operation! I swear!”
“Ok,” Eric said. For a second, it seemed like he believed the story and lowered the gun temporarily.
Then he raised the weapon again suddenly. “But you are a loose end.”
“No. Please. I’ll do anything. Just please don’t shoot me.”
Jennings thought it funny how men with extensive power could be lowered to the same level of a beggar, pleading for any scrap they could get. Sam Townsend had become one of the most powerful men in the government. He’d been reduced to nothing more than sniveling rat willing to do anything for an extension of life. “You’re pathetic,” Eric remarked. “All that power and here you are begging for your life. I’m doing the government a favor by killing you.”
The long barrel quickly puffed twice, sending two rounds into Townsend’s ribcage. He collapsed backwards onto the floor as dark crimson began to bloom around the two blackish holes in his white shirt. Shock covered Sam’s face as he clutched his chest. A thin red line began to trickle out of the corner of his lips. Violent, gurgled coughs ensued as blood began to fill the lungs. “You,” he managed to get out between fits of coughing but couldn’t get out anything else.
Jennings took another step forward and without saying a word, lowered his gun and fired one more round into Townsend’s head. The man’s body stopped shaking as the blood pooled around it on the tiled floor. After pocketing the weapon back into his jacket, he took another look back at the lifeless body. Satisfied with his work, Eric stalked back to the front door and drew back a nearby curtain to give a quick check outside.
No one would even remember seeing him exit the townhouse. He headed down the steps and veered onto the sidewalk towards his car. Only one more stop to make before heading home for the night.
Emily had already slipped into some pajama pants and a t-shirt and slumped down in a comfortable spot on the couch to watch her favorite show. A glass of dark cabernet waited beside her on the nightstand nearby as she turned on the television with a flick of the remote. About ten minutes into the show, a knock came from the front door. Puzzled at who would be coming by at that hour, she set her drink back down and pulled on a robe over her t-shirt and pajama pants. When she arrived at the entryway, she gave a quick look through the peephole. Eric Jennings stood appearing frantic outside her door. His face was panicked and he kept looking around in both directions. Curious, she opened the door. “Eric? What’s the matter with you?”
“I need to get off the street. Can I come in?”
His words were rushed, unnerved. She’d never seen him that way.
“Sure, Eric. Come in. What happened to you?” She held the door wide open for him as he passed by. She noticed a cut on his arm that was bleeding through the white long-sleeved shirt he wore. His face had a small, similar wound and his hair was completely disheveled. His forehead was also dotted with beads of sweat.
“Close the door. Quickly, please,” he begged.
“Ok. Ok. Just relax,” she said in response. A quick glance outside yielded nothing suspicious. She closed the door and stepped into the living room where he’d helped himself to a seat on the couch.
He sat nervously on the edge. “They came after me, Emily. They sent someone to my house to kill me.”
“Whoa! Slow down a second there. Who sent someone to kill you?”
“Golden Dawn. Those pieces of crap sent someone to kill me. I think they found out I was investigating them. Maybe I got too close. I don’t know for sure,” his words came out in a gush.
“Just take it easy. Sit down and tell me everything.” She gave another quick glance outside to make sure no one was there before returning to the sitting area.
Emily had known Jennings’ main experience with the Justice Department had been as an office guy. Unlike her, he wasn’t accustomed to being shot at or put into harrowing situations.
“I was at the house,” he began still panting a little, “cooking some supper, when some guy came in. It’s all a blur, but I guess I turned the corner from my kitchen into the living room and bumped into him before he was ready to shoot. In his surprise I was able to knock the gun away and fight him off.” He paused for a moment before finishing. “I shot him. I killed the son of a …” his voice trailed off in deep thought.
“Have you called the police?”
He shook his head, lost in his own mind.
“So the body is still there at your house?”
A slow nod gave confirmation.
“Eric. I need you to focus,” she tried to regain his attention. “You said something about Golden Dawn. How do you know it was them that sent this guy?”
“I’ve been investigating them for some time. I’ve always known they were working with someone on the inside, but I was never certain who. Now I think I know.”
She waited for the answer.
“Sam Townsend.”
The words hit her like a lead weight but her expression never changed.
“You don’t seemed surprised,” he said.
She decided that Eric didn’t need to know that she had met with Sam earlier that day. “I am and I’m not,” she said flatly. “I always had my suspicions about him. He gained so much authority so quickly. And I am always wary of those internal affairs types. You never know whose best interest they have in mind.” Her response seemed to settle Jennings down momentarily.