Daniel Suarez - Kill Decision

Clarke just stood silently at her window.

“What the hell is going on with you?” She grabbed her sunglasses from her purse and put them on with exaggerated irritation. “Get in the car!”

Clarke shook his head and looked around the parking lot. “I’m not coming.”

She frowned and leaned forward. “Get in the damned car. I can’t believe you aren’t already scrambling to deal with this.”

He gave her a blank look that must have spoken volumes.

She looked horrified. “Are you telling me you have no idea what’s just happened?”

He shrugged. “I sure don’t. And you know what? It’s kind of nice not to know what’s going on.”

“I hope you’re not still freaking out over your midnight visitor.”

“He could just as easily have killed me, Marta. And what would have happened to him? Nothing. You and I both know it.”

“Probably, but that’s not the way it-”

“I had no idea I was signing on for that. I’m not a soldier.”

“This is how the world works. Power comes at a price. Maybe now you’ll realize there are one or two things I can still teach you.”

He shook his head. “I’ve learned everything I want to know already. This isn’t fun anymore. I need to get busy finding out what I want from life.”

“Get in the damned car.”

Clarke shook his head again. “I’m not getting in the car, Marta.”

“This isn’t a request.” She pulled off her sunglasses again, her eyes boring into him. “There’s a news story about to break in media outlets we have no control over. We’ve got to get out in front of this-disarm the opposition before our support in the House and Senate crumbles. There are hundreds of billions of dollars at stake, Henry. We need a full-court press, and it’s going to take all of our resources to contain the damage. So get your ass in the car.”

Clarke looked into her hazel eyes. He could see the unhappiness there. He’d never realized that before. It seemed a dismal prospect to think that this was all he could aspire to. “I’m done.”

“You’re done when I say you’re done. There is the slight technical detail that you have a contract.”

Clarke could smell her fear. “My company has a contract with your company. Remember, you didn’t think enough of me at first to require my personal involvement. All you’ve got over me is a three-year noncompete clause.” Clarke laughed ruefully. “And I won’t be remaining in the profession.”

Her eyes narrowed at him. “If you leave now, in the middle of this crisis, we will blackball you. You don’t want to know what we can do to marginalize you, to discredit you-oh, but then again, maybe you do know.”

He couldn’t help but grin as he looked at her with something amounting to pity. “Who acts like this, Marta?” Clarke started walking along the horseshoe drive.

The black SUV rolled alongside him, keeping up. “You’re like a mental patient.”

He laughed, feeling lighter and happier with every step. “You know, I actually feel more sane than I’ve ever felt.”

Her cell phone started warbling. “Last chance, Henry. If you don’t get in this car immediately, you’ll regret it.”

At that he doubled his walking pace. It really was a beautiful spring day. He heard the electric window whine closed behind him, as the SUV’s engine thrummed. It accelerated past him, the blacked-out windows sparing him her disdainful look.

Clarke smiled to himself-as though a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He’d been dreading that conversation, and now it was over.

He watched her SUV halt at the entrance to the business park, signaling a right turn, heading to the centers of power.

Let them fight over it. He was done.

Suddenly a dark object streaked in silently from above-moving so fast he could barely perceive it. It impacted the black Escalade, waiting at the intersection, instantly detonating into a shock wave that sent metal parts, glass, hurtling into the air, followed quickly by a rolling fireball and a deafening BOOM that broke windows in the nearest office building. Car alarms started wailing all over the parking lot.

“Jesus!” Clarke was frozen in place on the sidewalk, watching the roiling flames as they consumed the twisted remains of Marta’s SUV. People abandoned nearby cars and ran for safety. Others came out of nearby office lobbies to watch the vehicle burn. As spectators began to gather, Clarke pushed through them, passing dozens of people holding up their smartphones as they tried to take video of the wreckage.

Professor Linda McKinney descended the folding steps of an unmarked Gulfstream V jet on the military side of Standiford Field in Louisville, Kentucky. It was early afternoon and a bright spring day, though a tad breezy. Cumulonimbus clouds dotted the sky like floating mountains. She closed her eyes and breathed in the fresh air. She was actually home-or at least where her parents had settled after her father retired.

She turned to see Odin in khaki slacks and a button-down blue shirt carrying a rucksack as he descended the steps behind her. A hard-faced Special Forces colonel stood waiting for them at the bottom of the steps. She recognized him from the video screen in Colorado-only this time he was real.

He extended his hand to Odin and gripped it firmly. “Congratulations, Master Sergeant. I knew if anyone could wreck their system, it would be you.” He grimaced. “But did you really have to use a ship filled with BMWs to stop these things? That was quite a bill.”

“I had to improvise, Colonel.”

Odin stood alongside McKinney as the colonel nodded to her in turn. “Remember the terms of your debriefing, Professor. Until we locate the people behind this plot, you’re still in danger. Are you sure you want to do this?”

She nodded. “I need to.”

He nodded back. “Very well. Odin here will accompany you.” He extended his thick, scarred hand to her. “Professor McKinney, the United States is grateful for your service.”

She accepted his crushing grip.

“We might have reason to call on your expertise in the future. I hope you’ll be willing to help us.”

McKinney raised her eyebrows.

Odin stepped forward. “We can talk about that later, Colonel.” They moved away across the tarmac.

The colonel called after him. “Take your time, Master Sergeant. Take all the time you need.”

With that the colonel climbed into the jet, and a uniformed crewman pulled up the steps behind him, closing the door. The plane’s engines whined to life as McKinney and Odin walked to a nearby hangar and a waiting civilian passenger van. It all seemed surreal as she looked around her. So normal.

After a few minutes of travel in silence, the van stopped near a public terminal. They disembarked, and Odin led them through a restricted access door, where two customs officials in uniform with IDs on lanyards waited for them.

Both men were in their fifties. One was pear-shaped and balding, with an extra chin; the other was thin and fit with a clean-cut appearance, despite his graying hair. He smiled to them both.

“Welcome back to the United States, Mr. Shaw. Ms. McKinney.” He handed them both new, unstamped American passports. “You two have a nice day.”

McKinney opened the passport, relieved to see her familiar, terrible photo. To have her identity back.

The other man entered a code on a keypad that unlocked a nearby steel door. He opened it to reveal a stairwell that led up.

Odin nodded to them both, and he and McKinney headed upstairs to a push door marked with warning signs that it must remain locked at all times. They pushed through and found themselves on the other side of the customs station and in the public air terminal among aircraft gates. Travelers walked past them.