Instead of being at New Dawn’s headquarters, I was in a bar with Lt. Colonel Martin. My mind should have been at ease. It wasn’t.

My sixth sense told me someone was wrong.

Martin gestured to a high-top table at the rear of the bar. “How’s that one look?”

The large round table would allow both of us to face the entrance, which was a common necessity for combat marines.

“Suits me,” I said.

“I’ll grab us a couple beers.”

I gestured toward a distant group of men with my eyes. “You want to order something to eat?”

He shook his head. “This won’t take long. Tonight’s pizza night, anyway.”

In a moment, he returned with two beers. He handed me one and sat down. After glancing over each shoulder, he looked me in the eyes.

“In one day, I’ve learned more than I care to know.”

“Enlighten me,” I said dryly.

“My FBI contact tells me in a couple of days, he’ll know who McMurphy really is. For now, I know this: R.P. McMurphy is no other than Randle Patrick McMurphy, the protagonist in Ken Kesey’s book, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.”

I shook my head. “I’m not following you.”

“I feel like a damned fool. I knew the name sounded familiar, but I never put it together. R.P. ‘Mac’ McMurphy is a book character,” he explained. “He was a gambler, fighter, war veteran and master of manipulation. He gets charged with a crime and manipulates the judicial system into believing he’s crazy. He goes to a mental institution instead of prison. R.P. McMurphy was the only sane one amongst a bunch of lunatics.”

I stared back at him, uncertain of what to say.

He peered over the bottle as he sipped his beer. “Whoever is in charge of pulling our strings has an odd sense of humor.”

“The only sane one amongst a bunch of lunatics…” I said, repeating his previous comment.

He tilted the neck of his beer bottle in my direction. “You’re the best operator in New Dawn. Hell, you might be the best operator in the entire US of A. When I ask myself what sets you apart from every other special op’s marine, I come up with a list that ends with the fact that you’re manipulative and cunning in ways that can’t be taught.”

I didn’t like where the conversation was heading. “If I wasn’t, I’d have been dead after my first assignment.”

He gave an insolent nod. “In looking back at the last month or so, your little trip to jail stands out like a turd in a punch bowl, Briggs. That trip to jail forced New Dawn’s brass to shuffle a few assignments, one of which was to take the Philadelphia job from you and give it to Shephard. Him fucking up on that job got him killed. Nobody was closer to Shephard than you. You knew he’d kill the target’s wife. The intel sheet mentioned the neighbor. You knew he’d kill her, too. You were assigned to that Philadelphia mission for a reason. The reason being that Shephard had no business—”

I pushed myself away from the table. “You need to go home and get some sleep, Sir.”

His eyes thinned. “You’re the only one of New Dawn’s operators that hasn’t been diagnosed as being either a sociopath or psychopath.”

“What are you trying to say?” I snapped back.

“You’re cunning and manipulative. You’re the sane one amongst a bunch of crazies.”

“Are you accusing me—”

“There’s two people that I’m sure aren’t McMurphy,” he said. “Pike and Wallace. Beyond that, I’m not sure of anything.”

“How in the fuck do I know you’re not McMurphy?”

He glared. “Watch your tone, staff sergeant.”

“Fuck you, Sir.”

“So, I meet Martin at this bar, and I ask if he wants to grab something to eat. He said, ‘No, it’s pizza, night, remember? Oh, by the way, did you order Shephard killed?’”

“You?!” Val snapped. “He thinks you’re the one that ordered Shephard killed?”

“That, and he thinks I’m McMurphy. He said there are only two people that he knows for sure that aren’t this McMurphy character, and that’s Wallace and Pike. He said in the next few days, his contact at FBI will know for sure who McMurphy really is.”

“Oh really?” She pulled open the refrigerator and peered inside. “But, if he’s already accusing you, he’s made up his mind. You’re going to need to be extremely careful around him.”

“I’m not going to have to worry about that. I’m done with that son-of-a-bitch after tonight.” I poured a cup of coffee and turned toward the kitchen table. “We need to be on the offensive instead of the defensive. If we continue at this pace, we’re going to end up like Wallace and Pike.”

She closed the refrigerator and sat down across from me. “The offensive?”

“We’ve got five issues,” I said. “McMurphy—who sees to it that the DNI Office’s orders are executed, someone at New Dawn who might be leaking information, anyone at New Dawn that might follow McMurphy’s orders, Martin, and the Director of National Intelligence himself—who will have us hunted down if we walk away from the program.”

“You’re right,” she said. “As soon as they think we’re not team players, they’ll do to us what they did to Shephard.”

I gestured toward the security monitor on the kitchen countertop. “If anyone comes around here, we’ll know it.”

“Think about how we’ve eliminated some of our targets. Staged car wrecks. Drug overdoses. Accidents. Muggings. Burglaries. Allergic reactions. They could do any number of things to us and no one would see it as anything other than life taking its course.” She lowered her head. “I’m so nervous I can’t even function. I think it’s time we make some changes.”

“I need some time to think,” I said. “I don’t want to act based on impulse. It’s highly possible that they’re not going to do anything until someone else tries to leave the program. We might be safe for a long, long time.”

“I can’t even comprehend what you’re saying. I need to get something to eat before I collapse,” she replied. “I’m starving. Did you eat?”

I lifted my coffee cup. “I’m going to stick with caffeine. I don’t have much of an appetite. I’ll gladly cook if—”

“I’ll just run and grab something.” She stood. “Are you sure you aren’t hungry?”

“No, thank you.”

“Sushi?”

“Sushi does sound good,” I replied. “I’ll just go with you.”

“You stay here,” she insisted. “Someone out there doesn’t trust you. Nobody’s after me. At least not yet. I’ll get the sushi and be back in no time. Then, we’ll make a plan to get our lives back.”

“Be careful.”

“Don’t worry about me,” she said with a smile. “I’m tougher than I look.”