Anthony DeCosmo - Schism

"Huh? How can I stop people from leaving? They're private citizens they, well, like they have rights."

"They do not have the right to jeopardize all of us. Put a stop to it, Dante. That's your number one priority right now." "I thought this whole conspiracy thing was my number one priority." Evan smiled and assured, "Leave that to me, I've got it covered." During the course of their conversation, Evan successfully maneuvered them to the door. He opened it, offering Dante the exit. "Yeah, okay, whatever."

The Secretary of Defense-either frustrated or de-toothed-left the Red Room with no hint of the anger that had accompanied him inside.

Sharon made to leave but stopped to say, "He could be a problem, my dear."

"Perhaps. But not right now. He's easy enough to manipulate."

"You do have a knack for that, don't you," she kissed his cheek. "But as for Trevor's wife, it seems to me that she may be so distraught over her husband's death that she might just take her own life. Why, some might even think that the noble thing to do."

"Yes," Evan agreed but thought of the boy's disappearance when he said, "that is possible. But there are other things to address before that."

"I suppose I'll leave that to you, my champion," her words slithered and she left the room.

Evan-in need of a few minutes of alone time-closed the door to the Red Room. His hand shook as he pulled it away from the knob. Just a little. Merely a tremble. Nonetheless, he clamped his free hand over the other as if to silence an annoyance. Evan gave his attention to the art work and regal furniture in the room. "It's all mine," he said to no one. No, wait, a pair of ears still listened.

Evan swirled around and eyed the Doberman Pinscher sentry sitting perfectly still and perfectly straight inside the closed door. The dog's dark brown eyes stared straight ahead as if it might be a statue.

The President tilted his head in curiosity for the beast and-slightly hunched over-stepped toward the canine, speaking as he moved.

"This is all mine now, you know. Not Trevor. Mine. I worked hard to get here, got it? I won't let anyone take it away from me, not this time. I belong here."

Evan leaned over and nearly touched his face to the snout of the sturdy animal. For its part, the K9 blinked, sniffed the air, but otherwise did not react.

Evan gazed into those brown eyes. The voice of Gordon Knox haunted, " Can you see him, Evan? Can you see Trevor Stone looking back at you? Watching you?"

"I don't see anything in there," Evan insisted. "Nothing but a mindless animal. Nothing but a product of training. Just a dumb dog!"

Evan turned fast, frustrated and scared at the same time then…then stopped and faced the K9 again. He took a deep breath, calmed, and stepped close again.

"Do you understand what I'm thinking? I am the leader now. You must obey me."

The dog blinked. Evan waited. Nothing happened.

The President laughed out loud; a chuckle.

Oh how silly of me. How ridiculous. It's only a dog. Nothing more.

He stood straight, adjusted his sport jacket, and left the room.

Waves curled into white caps, crashing in on themselves and rolling to the quiet beach where they faded one after another under a cloud-filled night. Those clouds added a new sound to the steady onslaught of breakers: the pitter-patter of a light rain on the grassy dunes as well as the patio pavers outside the Stones' beach house.

The drizzle dripped on the roof, rolled along gutters, and filled the darkness with a constant dribble that helped mask Nina and Gordon's footsteps as they crept toward the sliding glass door separating the rear patio from the kitchen.

The pair moved silently, speaking with gestures and intuition, but they moved with urgency: the lone exterior guard walked a loop around the beach house and-if his timing held true-he would return to the patio within three minutes.

Nina held a silenced nine millimeter pistol, knelt alongside an Adirondack chair, and covered Gordon as he used a screw driver to bypass the rudimentary latch securing the door.

Knox succeeded in undoing the lock and the two slipped inside. Nina softly slid the glass door closed behind them then followed Knox across the kitchen.

The kitchen opened to the living room where a television screen flickered a frozen image reading "end of broadcast day". An armed man snored on the couch.

The square-shaped living room not only linked to the kitchen, but also linked to two short halls on opposite sides.

Nina held her gun with both hands and pointed the barrel at the sleeping guard's head, prepared to pull the trigger if he stirred. She nodded to Gordon who took advantage of her cover and traversed the living room toward the hall leading off to the southwest. When he arrived there, he leveled his Desert Eagle at the slumbering sentry's noggin' and motioned Nina to join him, which she did.

Knox peered around the corner. He saw an empty chair outside of a closed bedroom door. With Nina watching his back (and watching the sleeping guard), Gordon turned the unlocked knob. He opened the door slowly and stepped into the pitch black master bedroom.

He first noticed bars on the windows that had not been there last summer when he had been Trevor's guest for a Fourth of July celebration. Gordon realized those bars kept Ashley and her family inside.

Before he stepped toward the bed, his survival instincts kicked in and he pivoted about. Someone lunged at him from behind the door brandishing a vase or something.

Gordon grabbed the weapon before it could strike. Despite the darkness, he saw that it was Ashley who attacked him but her frazzled hair and seemingly crazed disposition caused him to second guess his eyes. This was not the sophisticated, classy woman he left behind at the estate before disappearing. "Ashley, it's me," he whispered. "Gordon?" Nina peeked inside the room and said, "We got to move." "We're taking you and JB out of here," Gordon explained. "No time for your things." Before Gordon finished his explanation he realized something to be terrible wrong. "What?" "They took him. My son…they took him away."

This served as yet another twist on Gordon's perspective of the situation. Who would take her son? Why? What purpose would it serve? Yet he had no time to find those answers.

"Okay, let's go then," he simplified.

"My father…he's in the other room, get him, too."

Ashley grabbed a pile of clothes from a cedar trunk. Gordon led the trio along the hall to the sleeping guard in the living room. He next hustled Ashley to the kitchen area. Nina waited until they were clear and then crossed behind the quiet guard on the couch toward the far hall.

Before she turned the corner there, a hard chop from strong hands came down on her wrist, knocking free her pistol. The short, gray-haired man named Tucker stepped out from his ambush position and reached for the pistol tucked in his shoulder harness.

In a flash, she twisted his wrist and sent the automatic to the carpet.

The guard on the couch stirred.

Tucker did not hesitate. He smacked Nina in the cheek with a left jab then used a front snap kick to send her backwards stumbling over an easy chair near the sofa. As she leapt to her feet, she saw Tucker retrieving his gun and the stunned-but-now-awake guard on the sofa coming to his senses.

She abandoned the mission and bolted for the kitchen. A pistol round whizzed by her shoulder and exploded plaster from a wall above an oil painting of a lighthouse. More rounds pursued as she joined Gordon and Ashley as they scrambled across the patio toward the beach.

Knox needed no explanation. He hurried Ashley with one hand and leveled his gun toward the open sliding door with the other firing several cannon-like blasts toward the two guards, forcing them away from the kitchen for the moment.