King and Maxwell (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell 6)

I’m simply righting a wrong.

He put his hand in his coat pocket and pulled out his precious document, the one he had received from Milo Pratt. This document had cost Pratt his life. But without it Grant’s plan would not have a chance. There were many things that could go wrong, but at least this one piece probably would not.

He could not say the same for other elements. Sam Wingo was still out there somewhere. As were Sean King and Michelle Maxwell.

Yet Grant had some ideas on how to take care of that.

He glanced down at the paper. But he couldn’t take his eye off the endgame, the real prize. He just had to nail it and then he would wrap up this operation, leaving no trail behind. And he would continue on with his life. At least that was the plan.

He looked to the sky and angled his face in the right direction. His rented satellite was up there in its nice, safe orbit. The fragments his people had found on there were enough to get him where he needed to go.

He looked at a different spot in the sky. Another platform was circling the earth at that spot. So much crap up there. Debris and working platforms. The Space Station. Soon, even the paying public—well, at least the rich paying public—would get their own ride into space.

But for him it was just the two platforms, circling the earth in precise patterns. They had nothing to do with each other. At least not yet. But soon, they would be inextricably intertwined, at least in his own mind. As for the rest of the world, they would never know of the “twining” of the two hunks of metal. All signs would be eradicated because of a particularly ingenious execution method he had conjured that would literally bounce any evidence all over the digital space and then explode it into a trillion pieces.

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall…

He dropped his gaze back to the ground.

If only the problems down here could be so easily dealt with.

He checked his watch as he turned to look back at all the construction activity. He glanced at his phone as the message came in. The task was complete. What Grant had ordered done had been done.

That meant he had somewhere to go.

He had someone to see. If the person refused his request, that meant he had someone to kill.

Someone else to kill.

CHAPTER

60

“HAVEN’T BEEN HERE IN A WHILE,” said Sean as the SUV they were riding in pulled through the gates that were capable of stopping a runaway tank.

“Yeah, and the last time wasn’t very pleasant,” noted Michelle.

“Yeah, that I remember.”

They were escorted into the West Wing of the White House.

“You never pulled presidential protection duty, did you?” said Sean.

“My career ended before I got there,” she said. “One of my few regrets.”

“It’s not all its cracked up to be.”

“Liar,” she said, flicking her elbow lightly into his side.

They were shown into the Roosevelt Room and told to wait.

As Sean wandered the room gazing at several famous paintings on the wall, Michelle said, “Recognize any of the protection detail?”

“Been gone too long. All my contemporaries are off double-dipping at other agencies. You?”

“The woman outside the hospital looked familiar, but I never knew her name.”

“Jealous?”