Ironically, the address the caller had given me to meet was Val’s home. Using Apple’s “Track My iPhone” app on Val’s iCloud, I tracked her phone’s location. The phone was stationary, in the garage two doors down from Val’s.

I was parked in front of a house in the block behind where Val’s phone was located. I maneuvered the thermal camera-fitted drone over the residence where I suspected Val was.

One person was in the front of the home, pacing the floor. Two were positioned at the rear of the home, one of which was sitting. The other was standing ten feet away.

I suspected the one sitting was Val.

I flew the drone over Val’s home. The thermal imaging indicated there was no one in the residence.

My guess was that the caller intended to lure me to Val’s home, leave through the rear door of the residence he was currently in, and enter through the back door of Val’s home. I would then enter Val’s through the front door under the belief that he had been there all along.

Despite his claim to free us upon receiving the information, he had no reason to. In fact, he had every reason not to.

If obtaining any and all copies of the electronic files was crucial, his mission’s priority was to ensure the information couldn’t be distributed by either of us. The majority of what was in the SD card was filed away in my head. I had no doubt Val’s mind was a vault filled with classified information that could be resurrected at will. The only way he could truly prevent the revelation and distribution of New Dawn’s activities would be to kill us both.

Upon receiving the SD card, Val’s abductor would direct the guard at the second residence to kill her. If I hadn’t tracked her phone and used the thermal camera drone, I would have no idea that she was only two homes away, and there would be nothing I could do to prevent her from being killed.

His promise of a polygraph test was part of his plan to kill me. Under the pretense that I’d be released after passing the test, he’d lure me to a back bedroom. After strapping me in a chair and fitting me with electrodermal sensors, he’d kill me when I was incapable of defending myself.

I wasn’t going to give him the luxury of deciding when Val or I were going to die. He was going to do things my way. If he opted not to, the night’s events would make national news.

I flew the drone over the home Val was held in and placed it in “hover” mode. With it in a fixed position over the residence, I drove around the block. Two houses away from the Val’s home—and four houses away from her location—I slowed to a near stop alongside the curb and shut off my headlights.

Steering with my knee and allowing the truck to roll forward at a slow idle, I called the man who I intended to torture until the sun came up.

As the phone began to ring, I watched the monitor. One person was in the back of the home, and two were in the front.

He answered on the third ring. “Unarmed, Mister Briggs.”

“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” I responded. “Where do you want me to park?”

“Where are you now?”

I needed to stall for a moment to see what he intended to do.

“Coming around the corner right now,” I said. “What do you want? Driveway? Curb? Garage? You’re calling the shots.”

His image migrated toward the rear of the home. “Park in the driveway,” he said. “Be prepared to be searched and scanned at the door.”

“Understood.”

“Park in the driveway, come onto the porch, and place your flattened palms against the door. I’ll let you in.”

“I’m pulling in front of the house now,” I said, even though I was still two houses away.

I hung up the phone. As I suspected, he exited the rear of the residence and turned toward Val’s home. The image at the rear of the home remained in place, while the other continued to pace the front room.

I parked the truck. I left the drone in “hover” mode and carefully placed the control into the passenger seat. I unzipped my jacket two-thirds of the way and glanced at my handiwork. With slight reluctance, I gripped the dead man’s switch in my left hand. Then, I connected the terminals of the switch to the bomb’s trigger device.

With my pistol in a holster at the small of my back, I got out and sauntered up the sidewalk no differently than if I were going to meet Val for dinner. If the night was destined to be my last on earth, I would die content.

I’d devoted my life to making the Nation a safer place. My means and methods would certainly not be accepted as moral by everyone. Nevertheless, those who chose to condemn my actions slept well at night under my watch.

Grateful for Val, and what comfort she brought me throughout my time with New Dawn, I stepped onto the porch. Without her kindness, concern, and devotion to my well-being, I never would have made it.

Having her share meals with me in my home was a dream I doubted would ever materialize. Experiencing her satisfaction and appreciation of my offerings warmed my heart. Although our time together was short, it was sufficient enough to cause me to realize what I wanted out of life.

Tranquility.

I glanced at my watch. After placing my hands against the top of the door just as he instructed, I kicked it with the toe of my boot twice to announce my arrival.

Slowly, the door opened, taking the weight of my upper body with it.

A bearded man a head taller than me and fifty pounds heavier peered through the opening. He held a pistol in his left hand. His eyes locked on my open jacket. Upon seeing the bomb-laden vest, they immediately shot wide.

“Look familiar?” I asked with a dry laugh. “Before you think of any way to walk away from this, I’ll warn you. I’m holding a dead man’s switch in my left hand. Are you aware of what that is?”

The switch was a spring-loaded tube with a button at the end of it. Used as a trigger for a bomb’s detonation device, the switch required that the button be held down, once it was activated. If the button was released—if even for a nanosecond—the bomb detonated.

If my bearded opponent pushed me, struck me, shot me, or did anything that would cause my left thumb to move, the entire city block would be vaporized.

He swallowed heavily. His eyes shifted to my left hand, and then to my torso.

Despite the night’s forty-degree temperature, sweat cascaded along my face and dripped from my chin.

“Take all the time you need to look it over,” I said. “It’s the real deal. I used C4, because I had a few dozen pounds of it at my disposal. Each detonator is wired in series to the switch, so if you cut one wire on this bastard, it’ll be the last thing you do.”

The look on his face was priceless. He desperately wanted to take charge of the situation, but he couldn’t decide if there was a viable way to do so. While he contemplated what his next step was, I made the decision for him.

“Lower your weapon, take a few steps back, and let me in,” I said.

I wanted him to feel as if he was still able to protect himself. Truth be known, there was little chance that he’d emerge from the situation victorious. Eventually he’d either end up dead, or we’d all end up dead.

“You don’t have the guts to—”

I laughed. “A dead man’s switch displaces courage. That’s why terrorists use them. It isn’t about having guts. After this thing is activated, there’s no looking back. I could be scared to fucking death. It doesn’t matter. If you do anything that causes me to release this button, they’ll be sweeping your DNA up with a broom five miles from here. Now. Lower your weapon and take a few steps back.”

He did as I asked.

I wiped the sweat from my brow with my right forearm and then entered the residence. Using the heel of my boot, I kicked the door closed.

His pistol, a silenced HK Mark 23 .45 caliber, was the choice of the Army’s Delta Force, mercenaries, and some Navy SEALs. Based on his choice of weapons and his accuracy when killing Taggert and Wilson, I knew he was no newcomer to killing.

I’d spent two days a week training at Quantico’s weapons training range. The range was used to train marine officers, Army intelligence, DEA, ATF, FBI, Homeland Security, and any other quick reaction force that used weapons.

That extensive training gave me the confidence to do what I was about to do. A simple distraction would be all I needed to have the upper hand.

With his pistol dangling at his side, he stood ten feet from me, staring at my vest.

I had no intention of killing him. At least not yet. Considering his size and determination, shooting him in the thigh, shoulder, or upper arm wouldn’t cause enough damage to force him to drop his weapon.

Naturally, he’d return fire. As close as we were to one another, he’d undoubtedly hit me with at least one shot.

Then, it’d all be over.

My only hope was to shoot him in the hand. Luckily, his hands were as big as a ham. Even so, there was a one in a hundred chance of me hitting it.

It was my only hope.

I wiped my brow with my right wrist. “It goes without saying that I want to negotiate Val’s release.” I exhaled a long breath. “Is there any chance you can get me a glass of water? I’m sweating like a—”

“I’m not getting you a glass of fucking water,” he barked.

Clutching the dead man’s switch tightly in my palm, I extended my left arm. “Look at my arm,” I pleaded. “Sweat’s dripping off the tips of my fingers.”

His eyes shifted toward my straightened arm.

It was all the distraction I needed. I snatched my pistol from the quick-release holster at the small of my back and fired one shot, clearly out of instinct.

The bullet struck him just above the wrist. His arm jolted from the impact, slinging blood against the wall behind him.

The pistol fell at his side.

I fired two shots, one at each of his massive biceps. The hollow-point bullets exploded on impact.

With eyes as wide as saucers, he stumbled back a few steps, but didn’t fall. Blood dripped from the fingertips of both hands, soaking the floor at his feet.

With my pistol pointed at his chest, I took a step forward. I kicked his pistol to the side. “Take a seat or get shot in each knee,” I said, gesturing toward his knees with the tip of the silencer. “I’ll let you decide.”

Wincing in pain, he lowered himself to the floor.

“Roll onto your stomach, spread your legs wide, and extend your arms out straight,” I demanded.

He gave me a narrow-eyed glare.

I pointed the pistol at his crotch. “Next one will blow your nut sack off.”

He rolled onto his stomach and complied with my demands.

I glanced at my watch. Three minutes and fifteen seconds had passed. I needed to get to Val before her guard got nervous. I holstered my pistol, removed the wire cutters from my pocket, and wiped my brow with my arm.

After tracing the wires, I found the one I needed to cut. Nervous, exhausted, and drenched in sweat, I drew a breath and held it. I gripped the wire firmly in the jaws of the cutter, made certain the other wires were clear, and closed my eyes.

Snip.

I opened my eyes. An involuntary sigh of relief shot from my lungs. I released the dead man’s switch and let it fall to my side.

I secured my bearded hostage’s feet and wrists with zip-ties. I then cut off a section of his tee shirt and shoved it in his mouth.

I took a step back and looked him over.

“When I get back, I’m going to torture you,” I said without a hint of emotion. I walked to the front door and opened it. Before going through it, I paused and glanced over my shoulder. “Just so you know, if she’s got one mark on her, it’s going to be a long fucking night.”