Page 72 of PSYCHOlogical

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Vincent

During my tenure at New Dawn, I was not an active-duty marine. Being discharged from the Marines wasn’t a choice I made—the Office of the DNI made the decision to temporarily discharge its operators from the military. Technically, if we were active-duty, we couldn’t support New Dawn’s cause. Not that being a killer for hire was legal in any capacity, but our inactive status allowed Washington D.C.’s upper echelon to feel better about the circumstances surrounding the rather unique program.

Nevertheless, I took orders from Lt. Colonel Martin no differently than if I were active-duty. Now that Martin was gone, I was New Dawn’s senior officer. For the first time in my career, I was taking orders from no one. My actions simply needed to satisfy my conscience.

My conscience and Val’s curiosity.

“Did you kill Martin?” Val asked.

Pacing the living room floor, I responded as I strode past her. “Marines don’t kill marines.”

“You killed Pike,” she argued. “He was a marine.”

I stopped and turned to face her. I folded my arms across my chest. “When Pike killed Shephard, his lack of devotion to the Corps was made clear. He proved that he’d kill any of us if he was given the order. Killing him was a matter of self-preservation. For everyone in the program.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” Her brows raised. “Did. You. Kill. Martin?”

“I. Did. Not.” I scanned the length of her athletic frame and locked eyes with her. “Did you order his murder?”

“I did not,” she deadpanned.

“I know you didn’t kill him.” I chuckled at the thought. “So that leaves the new guy, Trevino.”

“Trevino?” Her eyes bulged. “Are you sure that’s the next step?”

“Whoever killed Martin acted on orders. Trevino’s obviously the one that’s receiving and dispatching McMurphy’s orders. I doubt the DNI’s office called and asked to talk to one of New Dawn’s operators. ‘Hey, Wilson, this is the Office of the DNI, we’d like for you to kill Lt. Colonel Martin, are you available?’” I cocked an argumentative eyebrow. “Or, do you think that might have happened?”

“You don’t have to get smart,” she snapped back. “I was just—”

“Trevino may not be our ‘McMurphy’, but he’s damned sure assigning the missions McMurphy emails him. I seriously doubt Martin put in an order to have himself killed, and neither Payne, CW, or Taggert have the capacity to make decisions even if they were asked. That leaves you, me, and Trevino.”

“So, Trevino’s got to go?”

“I need to eliminate the threat,” I said. “Out of you, me, and Trevino, the only one I care to kill is Trevino.”

“Should I thank you?” she asked, her tone bitter with sarcasm.

“I’d expect a ‘thank you’ over the argument you’re giving.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just afraid once Trevino’s gone that the DNI is going to pull the plug on the entire operation.”

I laughed. “The plug’s been pulled. Martin’s murder is the only memo we’re going to get. My guess is he got too close to McMurphy, and McMurphy ordered Martin killed. It’s over. The DNI’s next step will be coming for each of us, one by one.”

“Do you think Trevino killed Martin?” She put her hands on her hips and gave me a look. “Have you sized that guy up? He looks like a Wallstreet stock broker.”

She had a good point. I didn’t like admitting it, but I had no idea who the opposition truly was. I knew Trevino replaced Wallace, and that Wallace was in charge of receiving orders from DNI. If I killed Trevino, the DNI would be without someone to dispatch their orders. They’d be reduced to act on their own or to send another team of operators from the D.C. office, both of which would take time.

Time that Val and I needed to plan our escape.

“Let’s say you kill Trevino,” she said. “What happens after that?”

“We’re going to Washington, D.C.”

“Where, specifically?”

“The Office of the DNI.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What? Why?”

“I’m going to make a deal with the Director of National Intelligence.”

“Do you really think he’s going to—”

“He won’t have a choice. I’m going to print the entire contents of that SD card and walk in there with a thousand sheets of negotiation material. They’ll have one option: let us walk away or prepare to have the government’s dirty little secret exposed. I doubt the President is going to want the general public to know he’s ordered the murder of a member of the House of Representatives who was opposed to a gun rights bill.”

She let out a sigh. “I’m just worried that there’s already a team assembled to come after us. Like you said, the DNI has pulled the plug already.”

My mind was made up. We were going to advance to the nation’s capital. Anyone who got in our way would be executed. After I convinced the director to let us walk away, my career of killing would end.

With a guilty conscience and a clean slate, my new life would begin.

“Tonight, I’m going to hunt down Trevino,” I assured her. “Monday, we’re going to D.C. Between tonight and when we leave, anyone who gets in my way won’t live long enough to regret it.”