Collins groaned and loosened his grip on Kaplan.
Jake cradled Beth’s head in his lap, rocking back and forth. He knew he had to keep pressure on Beth’s wound or he’d lose her. The battle raged in front of him.
Kaplan pushed Collins back but the assassin held onto the gun.
Kaplan elbowed Collins on the side of the head, but the assassin didn’t waver.
The two men fell to the floor. Kaplan and Collins now had both hands on the H&K.
Four hands grappling for control.
The two of them rolled across the floor and Collins pulled the gun down between them. Kaplan head-butted Collins in the chin. It didn’t seem to faze him.
Jake saw Collins’ fingers grabbing at the trigger. Every move Kaplan made, Collins countered. He was good.
And strong.
Too strong.
They rolled over and over, struggling for control of the weapon.
On the third roll the H&K fired.
CHAPTER 56
Jake jumped at the sound of the muffled pop. All he could see was the two men rolling on the floor. The rolling stopped. He heard Kaplan groan.
He used his foot to grab for the pistol lying next to McGill’s body. He struggled to reach it and still manage to hold pressure on Beth’s neck. With his heel, he slowly slid the gun across the hardwood floor until he could grab it with his spare hand. Jake wrapped his fingers around the butt of the gun and pointed it at Collins.
Collins raised his head and appeared to look around. He stood up and looked at Kaplan.
Collins pointed the gun at Kaplan’s head.
Before Collins’ finger could squeeze the trigger, Jake fired a shot.
Collins jumped then turned toward Jake.
Jake aimed his pistol dead center at Collins’ chest.
Collins eyes were expressionless and he slowly raised the gun.
Jake pushed the barrel closer, stretching out his arm toward Ian. “Give me an excuse to shoot you, you bastard. Now, just put the gun down.”
Collins lowered his gun.
“I said put it down.”
Collins dropped the gun to the floor.
Before he could move, sirens wailed in front of the house.
Cars screeched to a stop.
Footsteps clambered toward the front door.
Collins looked at the door and ran down the hall toward the back of the house.
“Stop.” Jake yelled. He fired a shot at the assassin but the man had already disappeared.
Jake held Beth’s head in his lap, still holding pressure against her neck wound. The bleeding had slowed. Beth was barely conscious. Her voice weak, barely audible.
“Jake?”
“Shhh, Beth, don’t talk.”
“But—”
“Don’t talk. You need to save your strength,” he said softly.
Jake looked around the room. During the commotion the curtains were pulled slightly apart. The afternoon’s fading rays of sunshine beamed through the windows.
Long shadows played across the room.
The world seemed at peace, almost serene.
The last few seconds had lasted an eternity. And now it was over.
Jillian Ann Bulloch laid sprawled across the coffee table just two feet from him. Blood pooled on the hardwood floor beneath her.
Patrick McGill had died sitting against the front door. Two bullets had entered his chest and passed all the way through. Blood trailed down the door and ran underneath his body, finding its way under the quarter-round floor molding.
Michael Sullivan lay dead in the hallway, the back of his head missing.
Gregg Kaplan inched forward, clawing his way across the floor toward Annie’s body.
Jake became aware of the sound of the police beating on the front door and yelling something he couldn’t understand.
Laurence O’Rourke and Ian Collins were gone.
CHAPTER 57
The next day, Admiral Scott Bentley sat behind his oversized executive mahogany desk looking at the stack of files his executive assistant, Jean McCullough, left for his reading. Framed photographs of naval vessels and naval aircraft adorned the walls. His mahogany bookshelves brimmed with intelligence manuals, and military books — mostly of United States Navy.
On his desk was his most recently acquired photograph. A picture of the decommissioned aircraft carrier USS John F. Kennedy, a prized possession for Bentley. The photograph was signed by all the officers aboard the Kennedy at her decommissioning. He walked across the room, framed photo in hand, and hung it next to his other picture of the Kennedy, a photo signed by all the original officers on board at the time of her commissioning. He smiled with satisfaction. Now his collection was complete.
He walked around and sat down behind his desk. Morning light glinted through the tinted bulletproof windows of his corner office. He glanced at his messages. On top was a message from Jake Pendleton.
“Urgent, Please call ASAP.”
Bentley stared at the message — wondering why Jake would call after all these years.
Several flat panel monitors were mounted on the wall above his bookcases, each tuned to a different news channel and numbered to make volume adjustments easier from his universal remote. The volume was set on monitor number seven, FOX News.
He pulled off the top file, labeled “EYES ONLY,” and opened it. The top page was an old letter from the Department of Justice written by former United States Attorney General, Alberto Gonzales. He read the cover letter, then riffled through all the attached pages. He placed the letter back in the folder and closed it.
He pushed his glasses up with right thumb and forefinger and gently rubbed the bridge of his nose, still pondering the mysterious message from Jake Pendleton. He turned to his computer and did a dossier search for Jacob Pendleton. Within seconds, Jake’s life history was displayed on Bentley’s computer monitor. He studied the information carefully.
Jake had attended the Naval Academy in Annapolis, a political appointment made possible by his father’s political influence. Upon graduation, Jake immediately commenced his obligatory service in the U.S. Navy. His tour of duty as a Naval intelligence officer consisted of a one-year stint with the Office of Naval Intelligence at the National Maritime Intelligence Center in Suitland, Maryland, followed by a ten-month tour on the aircraft carrier U.S.S. Mount Whitney, the most sophisticated command, control, communications, computer and intelligence ship ever commissioned.
Then Jake was assigned duty at the Pentagon. For nearly two years, he served directly under the Naval and joint commanders. His Pentagon assignment was an obvious result of his father’s political clout. He’d served directly under Bentley, then Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Bentley’s forte was covert operations. The admiral coordinated covert operations with military operations squads from all branches of the armed services and the civilian agencies of the Central Intelligence Agency, the Federal Bureau of Investigation and the National Security Agency.
Bentley looked up from the computer and noticed a crashed aircraft on the television monitor number three, CNN Headline News. He quickly pressed the 3 button on his remote control, which turned on the volume to monitor number three, automatically muting the sound for all other monitors.
St. Patrick’s Day in Savannah, Georgia, home of the nation’s second largest St. Patrick’s Day parade, is generally known for its color green. Green river, green fountains, even green beer. But this year St. Patrick’s Day in Savannah turned red, blood red, in what will no doubt be one of the bloodiest shootouts in modern-day Savannah history.