“But you didn’t follow explicit orders, now, did you?”
“My goal was to bring our fellow Americans home and ensure the safety of my team.”
Internado gestured to the committee. “Perhaps my colleagues have questions of their own.”
Other senators began hurling questions at him, many worded to prejudice the public’s opinion of him and ThunderStrike. He answered those he could, refused to comment on anything he couldn’t. Round and round they went. No resolution. Just talking heads. It seemed like a witch hunt, but he refused to get burned at the stake.
Over the course of the afternoon, he removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves. He kept his voice low and steady, but he wanted to jump to his feet and scream. When the team’s competency was questioned, he couldn’t hold back.
“Senators, I am an ex-SEAL who proudly served my country for eight years. After my honorable discharge, I formed ThunderStrike to do the work the military could not. The armed forces are not in the business of rescuing American hostages. My highly skilled team and I risk our lives to protect those in need and bring them home. Many of these hostages are tortured, raped, mutilated. In the particular case for which I’ve been called to testify, the families of the twelve American hostages hired us. We ran surveillance, studied maps, memorized routes, and ran drills at ThunderStrike’s Eastern Shore location. All while flying well beneath the enemy’s radar. And—”
“Mr. Hott,” interrupted one of the senators. “What’s your point?”
“My point?” Maverick grunted his frustration. “We run towards danger and are willing to die to save others. We steadfastly believe in the American constitution. We love our country and its citizens. This mission was a private matter that doesn’t involve the United States government. By your own admission, the American government does not get involved in hostage rescues of private citizens. Simply put: ThunderStrike does.”
“Even if it means violating international laws,” Internado quipped like a parrot repeating himself. Then, he looked at the senators to his left and his right, each giving him a nod. “Mr. Hott, it is the committee’s decision to suspend award of any new government contracts to ThunderStrike pending the outcome of this investigation. We’ll reconvene one week from today with our findings. Thank you for your time. Meeting adjourned.” Internado rapped his gavel.
Maverick’s blood boiled. As he pushed out of the chair, he forced down the anger and flipped on the charm. Out he went to face the media.
After surveying the reporters, he said, “Good afternoon. ThunderStrike will continue to fight the good fight on behalf of Americans everywhere. Our commitment to defend and protect remains steadfast. While the committee debates next steps, our teams will continue to stay active both here and abroad.”
“How can you do that, Maverick, if ThunderStrike’s government missions get stripped away from you?” asked a reporter.
“That won’t happen. In the meantime, we have plenty of private-sector assignments in play to keep us busy.”
But Maverick was worried. In this town, bad press traveled fast. He might be grinning like a happy fool, but he was wise enough to know that some of his key clients would disassociate themselves from his company. If the committee found them in violation of anything, that could signal the end of ThunderStrike.
As he strutted down the hallway, he clenched his hands into fists. The press surrounded him like a caged bird, shouting questions and snapping pictures.
Feeling suffocated, he loosened his tie, unfastened his top button. Week in and week out he put in sixty to seventy hours. He didn’t save lives for the glory or the ego stroking. He did it because he could change the outcome for innocent people who didn’t deserve to die like his mother had. He did it because it was his calling. He’d been put on this earth to make a positive difference in the lives of others.
Saving lives pushed him out of bed after four hours of sleep. It forced him to train harder, hone his skills, and risk it all to reunite a mother with her child or a spouse with his mate. He wanted to help families because he couldn’t heal his own.
He slipped on his shades and shoved open the exit door. The bright sunlight made him squint, even behind the dark lenses.
He texted Carly. “On my way.”
Dots appeared as he walked down the sidewalk toward his car. “How’d it go?”
“Be there in ten.”
Stone-faced, Maverick drove away. After turning the corner, he muttered, “Mother fucking assholes.” He parked in a garage near Carly’s office and walked into the row house building with “Stone Investigations” over the doorway.
“How’d the hearing go?” Desiree asked.
“Slap on the wrist.” Maverick raked his fingers down his unshaven cheeks. “They’ll find we did nothing wrong and this fiasco will soon be forgotten.”
“I hope so. Sinclair says Internado can be a piranha.”
“Nothing we can’t manage.” He eyed Carly’s office. “Where’s the boss lady?”
“She figured you’d be hungry, so she ran next door to grab something for the road.”
He grinned, his first genuine smile of the day. His stomach had been in knots all afternoon, but knowing food was on the horizon rekindled his appetite.
The office phone rang.
“Stone Investigations.” While she listened, Desiree shook her head. “I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Pluckett. I’ll let Ms. Stone know. Thanks for calling.”
