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So Michael Vishenko had used his father’s fortune to resurrect the New World Militia for one purpose and one purpose only—as a means of obtaining legal donations to NOANC. NOANC “owned” the politicians it had helped get elected. And he—through the Praetor Corporation—controlled NOANC.
He was only thirty-four, but already his power was spreading. Congressmen, senators, judges. And...soon...if he played his cards right, perhaps even a president would owe NOANC—and Michael Vishenko—the election. No, not Michael Vishenko, he corrected himself with a grim smile. Michael Pennington. Because by then I will have reclaimed my rightful name. He would be the power behind the throne, his dream ever since he’d been old enough to recognize his physical deformity would limit his own political aspirations.
His smile faded. But first, he needed to avenge his father. Failure was unacceptable. If he couldn’t even manage to kill Callahan, Walker and the other two, he didn’t deserve to succeed elsewhere.
With a halting step he walked to the library window and stared out into the garden, but he wasn’t seeing the imposing statuary his father had acquired years ago; he was wondering how his primary targets had evaded elimination. He needed data from the men on the ground, data that couldn’t be transmitted through code phrases. And then he needed to modify his plan.
His targets were smart—he didn’t underestimate them. That was one of the reasons he’d waited this long, to lull them into a false sense of security. All the deaths had been timed to occur within twelve hours of each other. But now he had to assume the deaths of DeSantini and Brockway would put the other targets on the alert. His new plan would have to take that into consideration.
* * *
Five people sat around the conference table in D’Arcy’s office. Keira had watched D’Arcy’s greeting of Callahan with a tinge of surprise. They hadn’t just shaken hands; the two men had embraced before sitting down at the table next to each other. Not only that, they’d addressed each other by their first names. Knowing Callahan, as she was beginning to, and knowing D’Arcy, as she’d known him by his reputation since she joined the agency, she realized the two men had to be closer than they’d let on before. Was that related to the time Callahan had spent in the witness security program, when D’Arcy had been responsible for him? Or was there something else?
D’Arcy turned to Keira and Cody. “Bring them up to speed.”
Cody glanced at Keira. “Go ahead,” she said.
“Tressler told you there were six names on the elimination list,” he said, facing Callahan, “but he only recognized yours. We had already surmised my name was on the list, and the attempt on me last night seems to confirm it. We think the other four names were Darrel Brockway, Al DeSan—”
“DeSantini,” Callahan broke in. “I remember them. They were the lead prosecutors when I testified against Pennington. Smart guys.”
“Yeah, well,” Cody said flatly, “they were murdered last night. Same M.O. as the attempt on me,” he said, meaning modus operandi, or method of operation. “And from what you told me on the phone, it sounds like the same M.O. as the attempt on you, too. We won’t know for sure until the FBI deconstructs your SUV, but we’ll assume it is unless we hear otherwise.”
D’Arcy handed Callahan and McKinnon copies of the report on Brockway and DeSantini he’d given Cody and Keira that morning. Cody waited until the other men had a chance to read them before continuing. “We brainstormed about this, and we think the hit list doesn’t really come from the New World Militia. We think this is Michael Vishenko’s personal hit list to avenge his father.” He looked at Keira, and she took her cue from him.
She turned to her partner. “Trace, remember when you told me you and D’Arcy had to clean up the mess after Pennington was killed?”
He frowned and glanced at D’Arcy, then at Callahan, obviously regretting the wording he’d used to describe that situation. “Yeah. So?”
“From Vishenko’s perspective, Callahan and Walker murdered his father. And you and D’Arcy covered it up, helped them get away with it. That puts the two of you on the hit list. It’s the only thing that makes sense.” She took a deep breath. “Six names, two of them dead.”
