Page 56 of The 9th Man

Thomas Rowland.

He’d never heard of the man prior to the call that came a month or so after his military discharge. He’d traveled to Maryland, then by boat onto the Chesapeake Bay and Starlings Island. The man waiting for him had been well into his eighties, the features then, and now, belonging to age. A pale aquiline face, gaunt cheeks, coarsened hair, veined hands, frail with an expressionless quality about him, impassible as a statue.

He’d also learned about Thomas Rowland’s professional life.

His thirty years at the CIA had been served heading up covert paramilitary units. All ex-military personnel and veterans of special operations like the Green Berets, Marine Force Recon, Army Rangers, Navy SEALs, and Delta Force. They worked exclusively on foreign soil, trained in sabotage, personnel and material recovery, kidnapping, bomb damage assessment, hostage rescue, and counterterrorism. Skills Rowland had also put to use in his side venture.

Problem solver.

People of power and influence had a way of attracting trouble. It came in all forms, from the petty, to the obscene, to the embarrassing, to the criminal. Lawyers were sometimes useless, so Rowland filled a void and provided a service that eliminated problems. In return? Certainly money. Rowland was extremely wealthy. But more often than not, favors were the currency of choice.

A favor done is a favor returned.

Rowland’s motto.

Talley walked back inside the hangar.

The bodies bled out on the cracked concrete. He was glad Persik was dead. Good riddance. Rowland had more and more in recent years come to rely on Persik, the methods they employed both violent and amoral. Nothing seemed off limits. Daniels was right.I will not fail those with whom I serve. I will not bring shame upon myself or Special Forces.But he had. Much shame, in fact. All done for money.

No murders, though.

Until today.

But he considered what had just happened more righteous justice than a criminal act. Of course, he’d definitely coerced, blackmailed, threatened, and terrorized people. He’d many times told himself that the victims of his abuse were no innocents. Which was true. But that didn’t excuse it. He hadn’t killed anyone in a long time, and when he had it had been in combat. Not inside an abandoned hangar in ice-cold blood. What had he become? What would his children think of him?

What would his wife think?

She adored him, as he did her. Thankfully, she knew little to nothing as to what he did for a living. Only that he worked for Rowland, heading up his personal security staff, a job that required lots of time and travel. He’d seen the way Jill had started looking at him. Not the same as in years past. More puzzlement. Questioning. Wondering. Did she still love him? Of course. No question. But was it the same? No. He wanted his life back. His conscience. Along with his self-respect.

And what he’d just done was a start to regaining those.

Thomas Rowland was ninety-two years old and just as dangerous and deadly as he’d been decades ago. Perhaps even more so since the man had absolutely nothing to lose. Or maybe he did. A man of that age and reputation feared only one thing. A taint on his legacy. Rowland sometimes spoke of that. Enough that Talley had come to view it as a weakness. The only one he’d ever observed in the man. There was no wife, no children, no other close family. Only a precious reputation. Sure, death was coming soon enough. But a part of him did not want Rowland to die unpunished. He deserved some pain and misery. But this had to be done carefully. He’d meant what he’d said to Daniels. Families and loved ones were always in play, and his own were no exception. If Rowland sniffed even the slightest hint of betrayal or treachery, others would be hired to wreak havoc on the Talley household. Nothing would be off limits. He’d seen Persik dish out cruelty. Though dead, there were plenty more greedy men with no morals to hire in his place.

So far, though, so good.

He found his cell phone and dialed one of his men, explaining what he’d found in the hangar. “I need you to get here and clean up.”

That meant not a usable trace of what happened would be left, and the remains of Persik and his men would go the way of Jimmy Hoffa.

“Make sure the bodies are sanitized. Total evidential black hole—tattoos, dental, clothing, labels. You know the drill.”

He ended the call.

The course ahead was now irreversible.

We have a job to do.That’s what Daniels had said.

He had a job to do as well.

Rowland would want retribution. His narcissism would not allow anything less. He’d be ordered to hunt down Luke Daniels and Jillian Stein and extract revenge. Along the way he would also have to retrieve what Benjamin Stein had secreted away. A rifle. That’s what Rowland had told him there was to find. An old Colt AR-15. Daniels had made a point to mention one, and he’d made a point not to react. If Daniels had it, and Rowland wanted it, then so much the better. Another part of the special forces creed came to mind.I serve quietly, not seeking recognition or accolades. My goal is to succeed in my mission and live to succeed again.

Damn right.

Especially thatlive to succeed againpart.

Luke Daniels would never give up.

And he was counting on just that.

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