Shephard began his career as a man who had never taken another man’s life. The military trained him to kill, provided him with the tools to do so, and then insisted he perform at their beck and call.

Little did they know, Shephard was a wolf. Following his first kill, a desire burned inside of him that could only be quenched by killing. He eagerly complied with the military’s demands, scratching the itch that drove him mad when he was idle. In time, he became too eager to kill. His unpredictable actions put the program at risk of exposure.

There was only one solution.

To kill the killer.

Sitting in Val’s living room, I told her bits and pieces of the only plan to leave the program that I felt might work. She didn’t need to know everything, only what was beneficial to me in convincing her to participate.

“You can’t be serious.” Her eyes bulged. “Are you?”

“I’ve spent all night thinking about it. The killing of civilians as ordered by government authorities without judicial proceeding or legal process? The bypass of due process alone is contrary to the US Constitution. If anyone finds out the targets have been American-born citizens, heads will roll, starting with the President. The Office of the DNI know this. They obviously have the authority to do what they must to prevent news of this program’s existence from being made public.”

“I’ll be right back,” she said.

She disappeared into the back room. In a moment she returned with a yellow legal pad and a pen. She took her seat at the end of the couch, propping one ankle on top of the opposite knee and using her thigh as a makeshift table.

“What are you doing?”

“Hold on a minute.” She scribbled onto the pad and then looked up. “Okay. I’m back.”

“What are you doing?”

“Making a chart. Taking notes.”

“Of what?”

“This. What’s going on,” she said. “I need to make it all make sense. I’m listening, you can continue.”

“Here’s my opinion,” I continued. “As soon as we leave the program, we’ll be eliminated. That’s been the plan all along. Think about it. One person has been shipped out since this started, and he was killed. Having someone knowledgeable about the program, its existence, and the intricacies of it’s inner-workings is a risk the DNI can’t take.”

“Wallace is a pawn,” she said as she scribbled on the pad. “It makes sense. They didn’t want to lose Martin, who is a high-ranking Marine officer, so they placed a civilian in his place who has no immediate or extended family.”

“He has no family?”

“None,” she said. “His parents are both deceased, and he’s not married. Never has been.”

I coughed out a mouthful of frustration. “I always wondered why he was in that position. Now I know.”

“Why?”

“You’re right. He’s a pawn. They figured they’d use him to do their dirty work, and then they’d eliminate him.”

She tapped her pen on her lip while she studied her notes. “I don’t like this.”

“What?”

“We’re all pawns.” She lifted the pad and turned it to face me. “See?”

Two boxes at the top of the page had Wallace’s and Martin’s names in them. Below that, me, CW, Pike, Taggert, and Payne, and Shephard each had a box. Shephard’s box had an “X” through it. Below the operators, Val’s box was all alone. Each box had a star in the corner. All the boxes except Val’s and Wallace’s had a capital “M” below the name.

“What are the stars?”

“No family.”

“And the ‘M’? What does that represent?”

“Military training.”

“You don’t have family, either?”

She shook her head. “I’m an only child. My parents died in a car crash when I was in college.”

“I never had a real family,” I admitted, “The Marine Corps ended up being my family.”

“I’m so sorry about all of this,” she said. “I feel like you’ve lost a brother. I wish I could have done more.”

“Are you convinced my mindset is right on this?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you believe that we’re going to be eliminated when they’re done with us?”

She swallowed heavily and nodded. “I do, now. I’m just afraid Wallace might…”

“He isn’t going to have time to do a damned thing,” I assured her. “Don’t worry about him.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going to interrogate him. I’ll find out everything he knows, don’t worry.”

“What if he won’t talk?”

I laughed. “He’ll talk.”

“Then what?”

“We’ll have to be prepared to act based on what I find out,” I said. “It’s not going to be easy, but I think we can do it.”

“We?” she asked, her voice nothing more than a squeak.

“I’m not going up against them alone,” I responded. “We’re going to do it.”

She gasped. “What?”

“I need your help. I want electronic copies of every file, field report, intel sheet, name, target, mission, signature, everything. Load it on a flash drive and we’ll get it to a safe place. That’ll be our insurance policy.”

Her eyes went wide. “Our insurance policy?”

“After what we just talked about, do you really think you can get out of this alive?”

She lowered her head into her hands. “I don’t like thinking about it.”

“Take a minute and think about everything we’ve talked about,” I said. “Then, tell me if you think you’re beyond their grasp.”

A moment or two of silence followed. She lifted her head. “Do you really think you can win this?”

“I’m sure I can,” I responded with the utmost of confidence. “I know how each of them think. They, on the other hand, have no idea how I think, or that I’m coming for them. I’ve got the element of surprise in my favor.”

“What’s your plan?”

“My first step is to interrogate Wallace.”

“What if you find that your fears are correct? What if you find out they had Shephard killed?”

“I’ll react accordingly, starting with Wallace.” I said. “Are you in, or are you out?”

“It’s one or the other, huh?”

“You’re either with me, or you’re not.” I stood and faced her. “I’d strongly suggest you be a part of this. It’s not going to be easy, and it’s not going to be clean. But, it’s necessary. If we want to survive.”

“Dirty?” she asked. “Like how?”

“Interrogation. Torture. Murder. You’re going to have to be a part of it all. Or, at least be prepared to be part of it all.”

“If I choose not to?”

“The alternative leaves you with a very short life expectancy.”

She tapped her pen against her lip for a moment and then stood. “I can’t believe this is what my life has become. I guess I’m in.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “You guess?”

“Well, my options are fight, or die,” she said. “I don’t want to die. Fighting is the only other option.”

“Being backed into a corner is one hell of a motivational tool. Isn’t it?”

“It sure is.”