Page 39 of PSYCHOlogical

Chapter Thirteen

Briggs

Shephard began his career as a man who had never taken another man’s life. The military trained him to kill, provided him with the tools to do so, and then insisted he perform at their beck and call.

Little did they know, Shephard was a wolf. Following his first kill, a desire burned inside of him that could only be quenched by killing. He eagerly complied with the military’s demands, scratching the itch that drove him mad when he was idle. In time, he became too eager to kill. His unpredictable actions put the program at risk of exposure.

There was only one solution.

To kill the killer.

Sitting in Val’s living room, I told her bits and pieces of the only plan to leave the program that I felt might work. She didn’t need to know everything, only what was beneficial to me in convincing her to participate.

“You can’t be serious.” Her eyes bulged. “Are you?”

“I’ve spent all night thinking about it. The killing of civilians as ordered by government authorities without judicial proceeding or legal process? The bypass of due process alone is contrary to the US Constitution. If anyone finds out the targets have been American-born citizens, heads will roll, starting with the President. The Office of the DNI know this. They obviously have the authority to do what they must to prevent news of this program’s existence from being made public.”

“I’ll be right back,” she said.

She disappeared into the back room. In a moment she returned with a yellow legal pad and a pen. She took her seat at the end of the couch, propping one ankle on top of the opposite knee and using her thigh as a makeshift table.

“What are you doing?”

“Hold on a minute.” She scribbled onto the pad and then looked up. “Okay. I’m back.”

“What are you doing?”

“Making a chart. Taking notes.”

“Of what?”

“This. What’s going on,” she said. “I need to make it all make sense. I’m listening, you can continue.”

“Here’s my opinion,” I continued. “As soon as we leave the program, we’ll be eliminated. That’s been the plan all along. Think about it. One person has been shipped out since this started, and he was killed. Having someone knowledgeable about the program, its existence, and the intricacies of it’s inner-workings is a risk the DNI can’t take.”

“Wallace is a pawn,” she said as she scribbled on the pad. “It makes sense. They didn’t want to lose Martin, who is a high-ranking Marine officer, so they placed a civilian in his place who has no immediate or extended family.”

“He has no family?”

“None,” she said. “His parents are both deceased, and he’s not married. Never has been.”

I coughed out a mouthful of frustration. “I always wondered why he was in that position. Now I know.”

“Why?”

“You’re right. He’s a pawn. They figured they’d use him to do their dirty work, and then they’d eliminate him.”

She tapped her pen on her lip while she studied her notes. “I don’t like this.”

“What?”

“We’re all pawns.” She lifted the pad and turned it to face me. “See?”

Two boxes at the top of the page had Wallace’s and Martin’s names in them. Below that, me, CW, Pike, Taggert, and Payne, and Shephard each had a box. Shephard’s box had an “X” through it. Below the operators, Val’s box was all alone. Each box had a star in the corner. All the boxes except Val’s and Wallace’s had a capital “M” below the name.

“What are the stars?”

“No family.”