Page 158 of The 9th Man

“The first shot was fired,” Rowland said. “Which we now know hit the street. I heard it, turned completely around, and saw Oswald on the sixth floor of the School Book Depository building. There’s even a photograph of me looking that way from the trail car. I turned back and reached for the AR-15, released the safety, and began to lift the gun. The second shot was fired. This one hit Kennedy and Connally. That’s when the president’s car, and our car, sped up. It was sudden. Quick. I was standing on the cushion of the rear seat, not the floorboard, so I was unstable. As the car sped up, I fell forward. When I did, I pulled the trigger. Incredibly, at that precise moment, the gun was pointed right at Kennedy and the round struck him in the back of the head. It all happened in a matter of a few seconds. Everybody watches that damn Zapruder film in slow motion, thinking it clicked by in slow motion. That’s not how it happened.”

“Why not just come clean then?” Luke asked.

“I wanted to. But my father refused to allow it. He said nothing good would come from that. He would ask, do you want to be remembered as the man who inadvertently killed John Kennedy?Of course not. Thankfully, no one else knew. So he did what he could to sanitize things, which was actually quite easy considering the mess the Warren Commission made of the whole thing. Now here we are decades later, this is ancient history that matters not anymore. It should be forgotten, but three men made it their life’s work to make sure that it wasn’t. Thankfully, they are now gone.” Rowland pointed. “Only you remain, Mr. Daniels.”

“You don’t really think I came here alone,” he tried.

“I think that’s exactly what you did, considering you utilized an old friend, outside the government, to watch my yacht for the past few days,” Rowland said. “We allowed that, so you’d come this way.”

Good. They understood one another. “Then you know this is not official Billet business.”

Luke was keeping a close watch on Rowland and Jillian. Both were armed and as unpredictable as two sharks in the water. The old man’s reflexes were probably slow, but Jillian’s would be lightning-fast.

“My lawyers will quash any book before it’s published,” Rowland said. “They have already contacted the news networks who ran the little bit of bait you dangled yesterday, threatening action. The internet? The attention span there is measured in micro-seconds. No. You are the only real problem that still exists.”

“How do I get in on this?” he asked.

“You don’t,” Jillian made clear.

“Why not? You got in.” He faced Rowland. “You had Persik and Talley before on your payroll. Why not Stein and Daniels now? I can see an opportunity too.”

“I thought you didn’t come here alone,” Rowland said.

“I lied. You were right. This is all me, as you already know. And, you’re right, without me, there’s nothing but a bunch of unsubstantiated mumbo jumbo.”

He was hoping that a narcissistic asshole, like Rowland, would think everyone was purchasable. He’d also noticed something else about the organization. No women. A male bastion. So he was hoping his offer might be well received.

“I want what she’s getting, plus 50 percent,” he said. “The extra is for my silence. In return you get psycho-girl here and me to look after things for you. Since she obviously has no issues with killing people, she’ll make a great replacement for Persik. I’ll take Talley’s job. She does the dirty work, I do the rest.”

“Can you deliver the manuscript, Eckstein’s film, and the photos?” Rowland asked.

“You’re not seriously considering this?” Jillian asked.

“For twice what she gets,” Luke said. “Consider it done.”

“You have it all in your possession?”

“Damn right. Screw Stephanie Nelle. I agree with what was said earlier. Too little pay for too many risks.”

“And if you double-cross me?”

“Then I’m sure you’ll send her”—and he pointed at Jillian—“to kill me.”

He glanced her way and saw she wasn’t happy with his offer. But he’d guessed right. Rowland was a tried-and-true misogynist, working with a woman only out of necessity, not choice. Old school all the way.

A bang disturbed the silence.

His head jerked left.

Rowland’s gun had fired at Jillian.

The bullet caught her in the chest. She tried to react and return fire, but Rowland sent two more rounds her way, both of which found flesh. Her focus had all been on Luke, not Rowland, so the old man had caught her unawares. She staggered back, off balance, hit the wall, then slid down to the floor, the neck craned to one side, blood pouring from the wounds.

“You may consider that we have a deal,” Rowland said.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“We both know that I did. She was not really a team player. You would have eventually killed her yourself.”

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