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“Do you know why they want you dead?” I asked. I needed to know who was playing me and why.
“A donation,” the man said loud and clear.
“A donation? Political?”
Radcliff nodded.
“I’m going to make a large donation to the president before the upcoming re-election,” Radcliff went on to explain. “The president will in return use his executive power to ban pharmaceutical companies from lobbying in the government, which will pretty much take away all their power. To accomplish that, I will have to donate a sum of unspeakable proportions.”
“Why?” I wondered.
“Because drugs took my son. His father.” He pointed to the house, referring to his grandson Benjamin Radcliff. “My son died in a car crash because he was high on opiates. Some stupid dentist prescribed them to him, and he was hooked instantly. My grandson does not know the truth, but drugs mercilessly killed his father. Well, that's not quite right. Honestly, in more ways than not, I was the one who killed my own son. I was never there for his birthdays or school performances. The opiates took that pain from him.” Elijah’s voice trembled. “It’s too late for my own child, but I want to block pharmaceutical companies from lobbying the government so the drug pandemic can be fought.”
God fucking damn it.
I lowered the gun in my hand to my side. It all came crashing down on me. The reality of my situation had become clearer. I had been set up... big time. I’d been given a political murder plot and almost got trapped right in the middle of it. This man didn’t deserve to die, and I had been careless in my attempt to kill him just so I could return to Elise. I hadn’t done my homework properly. I should have verified the information Luck Murphy gave me. Those documents the CIA handed over were most likely totally fabricated.
I almost collapsed to the ground and laughed at myself for being this stupid.
“So you think the people who want you dead are in bed with the pharmaceutical industry?” I asked.
“Their money to be precise,” Radcliff said. “And I think I know exactly who it is. The moment I walk out of this garden, I’m going to take care of that person. That is, if you let me walk out of this garden.”
I stared at him, my gun still lowered next to my hip. How could I just kill this man? I was a monster, but not this sort of beast.
My silence was his answer, and Elijah Radcliff nodded.
“Thank you. I always pay my debts. What do you want from me for saving my life?”
I shook my head. “My debts are so large, not even you have enough money to pay them.”
He smiled. “Try me.”
I sighed loudly. What a freaking mess this was. I almost killed an innocent man because I was desperate to save my family and get a pardon. I had been scammed because I was too determined. Like a donkey with a carrot dangling in front of it, never wondering where it came from. Fucking Murphy had fooled me, and I had handed my family over to him for protection. There was only one man who needed to go in this town. And that man deserved it for everything he had done to Elise.
“Try you?” I repeated Radcliff’s words. He nodded.
I frowned. “You won’t be able to help me. What I need is a presidential pardon to start over again with the woman I love and our child. I did a lot of bad things in the past. To bad people, but my actions were still brutal. That’s all I can tell you.”
Mr. Radcliff turned for the first time to look straight at me. My eyes met his.
“Did the CIA hire you?” he asked.
I didn’t respond, but the look I gave him was enough.
He nodded. “I see. In that case, I will pay my debt, you’ll see.”
He stared at me in silence. The only sound was the night breeze rattling the bushes nearby.
“Go make those pharmaceutical bastards pay,” I said to Radcliff right before I turned around and ran for the wall. In seconds, I’d jumped over the fence and landed outside. I steadied myself on both feet, looked left and right, and started running. The road was quiet. A car came along, driving slowly down the road, but the driver didn’t care that I was running or that I was wearing a mask.
I pulled the mask off my face, held it in my right hand, and ran as fast as I could. No medal was waiting, but I had just escaped killing someone who was working to better America. I wouldn't have forgiven myself if I had found out later that I’d killed the wrong guy.
The icy wind brushed my face and my hair. I gritted my teeth.
My legs were shaking a little when I got to the car. I unlocked the door, took a deep breath, and got in. Then, with another deep breath, I started the engine and drove out of the woods.
A lot was going on in my head. I was pissed at the CIA. Did they really think they could fuck with me like this?
