Murray McDonald - Critical Error

As each shot rang out, adrenalin pumped through his veins and with each bullet, the feeling of impotence flowed through him. His wife and child needed him and he was failing them. As the launch mounted the beach next to the speedboat, the gunfire stopped and silence fell. Sam bounded out of the launch and almost stumbled over his dog, its blank eyes staring up at him. Tears streamed down his face, Sam loved three things more than life itself and Goldie was on that list. Until ten months earlier, she had been top of the list but now she sat firmly at number two.

Sam hardly missed a beat as he stormed to the top of the hill. Three men stood watching the house as another made his way towards the front door. Sam ignored the state of the house as his only focus was overcoming the men and ensuring his family were safe. He ran around the hill and approached from the rear, sprinting down the hill out of the sight of the three guards and grabbed his wood axe as he ran past his firewood stockpile. With three heavily armed men on the other side of the house, he had only one advantage, surprise.

As the front door crashed to the ground, Sam ran round the side of the house and at full sprint, ran at the first guard, the axe swinging in a powerful arc. Sam leapt up and using all of his 6’ 2” frame to maximize the force at which the axe fell, the razor sharp blade sliced through the man’s neck at a forty five degree angle and removed not only his head but right arm in one fluid motion. As the axe cleared the man’s torso, Sam spun round and sent the axe flying end over end into the second guard standing directly in front of the door. A short scream was instantly silenced as the axe embedded itself into the man’s stunned face, killing him instantly. Sam was rolling back towards the head and right arm of the first guard and his XM8 assault rifle even before the axe had landed.

By the time the third guard had managed to react to the deaths of his colleagues, it was too late. Sam already had him in his sights and was squeezing the trigger. A three round burst ended the encounter and dropped the last guard where he stood.

Sam didn’t hesitate. He ran and dived through the front door and into the lounge just as Alex rushed towards him and the butt of his gun. Alex’s face hit the immovable force and stopped dead despite the momentum. His cheek and nose bore the full brunt of the collision while his body continued its forward motion, crumpled to the floor and landed at Sam’s feet.

Sam stamped on Alex’s right hand, crushing the bones, rendering it useless. He kicked the gun from the man’s hand before walking into the kitchen and seeing his worst nightmare. The lifeless bodies of his wife and son sat awkwardly under the window. Sam turned and walked back to the last of the four men. Tears streamed down his face as the memories of his wife and son flashed through his mind.

A kick to the ribs brought the man round.

“Who sent you?”

“You know who sent us!” replied Alex who already knew he was dead.

“Who gave the order?”

“I don’t know.”

Sam stamped on Alex’s hand, grinding it further into the floor.

“Who?”

“I don…”

Sam raised the gun and shot Alex’s kneecap clean off. Alex passed out almost instantly from the intense pain but was kicked back to consciousness.

“Who?”

“I really don’t know,” struggled Alex through gritted teeth, the pain unbearable.

“Well you’re absolutely fuck all use to me!” spat Sam as he shot the other kneecap.

Sam walked outside and taking a shovel, he began to dig, ignoring the screams from Alex. Within twenty minutes, he hit metal. Ten minutes later, he had retrieved a trunk that he had hoped he would never see again. Pulling the trunk from the hole, he loaded three of the bodies into the now empty hole and covered them with earth, carefully replacing the turf on top. Comfortable the hole wouldn’t be found, he walked back to the shingle beach and retrieved Goldie and carried her back to the cabin, placing her carefully at his wife and son’s sides.

Kissing them all goodbye, Sam stood up and walked out of the kitchen. He doused the cabin in petrol and with a heavy heart and vengeance in his mind, he set fire to his family and home. The final screams of Alex reverberated around the small island as the cabin burned to the ground.

Sam Baker was back and all hell was about to break loose.

Washington D.C.

Hart Senate Building

“Mr Chairman?”

The Senior Senator for Montana and current Chairman of the Senate Appropriations Committee for Defense turned in the corridor and was met by the sight of an exceedingly attractive young woman dressed from head to toe in Armani. He knew it was Armani because his wife refused to wear anything else. The tall and athletic blonde was drawing more than a few admiring glances from the Senator’s aides.

“Yes, Miss?”

“Special Agent Clark, Amy Clark.”

“How can I help, Agent Clark?”

Special Agent Clark took the Chairman by the elbow and led him conspiratorially away from his three aides. Looking around to check no one was listening, she turned back to the Chairman. As she did so, the Chairman noticed a small coiled cable running to her ear.

“Mr Chairman, we’ve received a direct threat to your life,” she said calmly.

“By we , you mean?”

“Sorry, Secret Service.”

The Chairman smiled knowingly. “I’m getting three death threats a week at the moment. What’s so special about this one that it caught the SS’s attention?”

“I’m not aware of the detail, Sir. I’ve just been instructed to place you under Secret Service protection because of a plausible threat to your life.”

“I’ve always been told that the people we should worry about are those who don’t issue threats.”

“Not entirely true, Sir.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Clark, but the last thing I need just now is the Secret Service surrounding me at every turn. Anyway, people will think it’s a gimmick and I’m over inflating my importance before the nominations are concluded. I’m sorry but I’ll have to decline the offer.”

Clark turned around and looked down the corridor where another equally well dressed young man stood at the elevator, accompanied by two uniformed officers of the US Capitol Police Force and shook her head slightly. Receiving a shrug of the shoulders from the man, she turned back to the Chairman who had watched the interaction with interest.

“Now if there’s nothing else, Agent Clark, I really need to get back to work,” he said, checking his watch. “The Secretary of Defense is currently twiddling his thumbs waiting to give his evidence to my committee.”

As the Chairman tried to move away, Agent Clark grabbed his arm firmly. The Chairman was a powerful man, both politically and physically, standing over six foot tall and despite being in his sixth decade, he was not a man people tackled lightly.

The Chairman looked at the hand on his arm, before raising his eyes to meet Agent Clark’s.

“I’m sorry, Sir, but the threat is real and we’ve been ordered to protect you, whether you like it or not,” said Agent Clark nervously.

“By whom?” boomed the Chairman, having lost patience.

“The Director.”

“Well you phone that little shit and tell him I refused. And if he’s got a problem with that, tell him to grow some balls and come and see me himself, instead of sending me his little bit of fluff. Now if you don’t mind, please remove your hand.”

Amy Clark had, since a very young age, dreamt of joining the United States Secret Service. She had dreamt many times of what would have happened had she been at Kennedy’s side on that fateful afternoon and on each occasion, she had sacrificed herself for her president. Her looks, however, more befitting of the front pages of a glossy magazine, had always worked against her. People automatically assumed her promotions or postings were earned by looks rather than merit.