“Senator Rowland.”

At the deep, arrogant voice, the senator stopped in his tracks. The colonel stood behind him, so close that he could feel the warmth of the man’s breath brush along his neck. Rowland’s skin chilled, every hair on his body stood straight up.

“That’s it,” the colonel murmured. “Keep still and keep quiet. What I have to say will only take a moment of your valuable time.”

Sliding his fisted hands into his trouser pockets, Rowland held his breath. His gaze darted around the lightly populated private dining room in the ultraexclusive D.C. gentleman’s club, Partisan.

“How did you get in here?” Rowland quietly demanded as he made to turn.

The hard nose of a pistol dug into his back. “Ah, ah, follow orders, soldier, or pay the price.”

Rowland stiffened but remained still.

“Now, listen to me very carefully if you want to survive this election cycle.”

“What?”

“Compliance becomes you, Senator.” The colonel chuckled. “In the not-too-distant future, you’re going to get a call from DCPD informing you that your chief of staff jumped out of a ghetto apartment building because he couldn’t live with himself after he killed the twelve-year-old prostitute he had delivered earlier tonight.”

Icy foreboding dug into the senator’s gut. In that instant, he saw his illustrious career go down the proverbial drain. He turned to confront the devil face to face.“What did you do to Blalock?”

The barrel of the gun dug deeper into his back. “Ah, ah.” When Rowland stilled, the colonel continued. “The reality is, Blalock was thrown from the window. And the girl?” The colonel tsked tsked. “Unfortunate collateral damage.”

“You don’t know who you’re up against, Colonel,” the senator bit out.

“No, my friend, it’s you who has no clue who you’re up against.” To accentuate his point, the colonel shoved the pistol harder into Rowland’s back.

Rowland moved to turn around again, but the colonel dug the barrel deeper.

“Don’t turn around. I’m here to give you a friendly heads-up so that when the cops call, you have the real facts. And you know how those vultures at the Post like to twist everyone’s dirty laundry into a shit pile. It’s going to be very interesting to see how your PR team spins this little, ah, sexcapade slash suicide. Especially since you’re running such a tight race against that incompetent Democrat.”

Rowland remained still, too angry, too terrified to breathe. This would topple him. It didn’t matter that Blalock liked young whores. Rowland was a California conservative, a virtual unheard-of in that great state. His opponent would pull out all the stops when they got wind of this. “What good am I to The Solution if I lose my seat?”

The colonel laughed low. “I like the way you’re thinking now, Senator.” Colonel Lazarus relieved the pressure at his back. “It’s simple, really. Reinstate our preferred contractor status, we go back to business as usual, and I’ll make sure you not only retain your senate seat but you’ll be hailed a hero as well.”

Rowland spun around and faced his nemesis. The pacemaker in his chest was working overtime to keep his erratic heart rate from fibrillating. His gut gnarled in such a severe contortion that the Maryland crab cakes he’d eaten an hour ago rose in his throat. He was damned either way. Unless—unless he found a way to eliminate The Solution from the face of the earth.

“You forget, Colonel, I have records of every dirty deed you and your cohorts have carried out. All of it poised and ready to be delivered into the hands of the Joint Chiefs if I fall off the radar.”

The colonel’s smile widened. “Isn’t your daughter, Grace, scheduled to begin Stanford in the fall? It would be a shame if she never made it.”

Rowland’s blood iced in his veins, the crab cakes rose higher, clogging his throat. “Touch one hair on her head, and I’ll personally cut you up one piece at a time.”

The colonel laughed. “Give me what I want, Senator, and I’ll leave your family out of it.” He looked at his watch. “I’m giving you three weeks to reinstate The Solution.”

“I can’t get it done that soon! My committee doesn’t reconvene for eight weeks!”

The colonel’s smile faded. “There is such a thing as an emergency.” He backed away from Rowland. “I want an official certified letter delivered to the address on record for The Solution in three weeks or less. Once I have authenticated our reinstated status, we’ ll resume business as usual. I also suggest you call a cleaner ASAP. You’ll be no good to me if you lose your Senate seat.” The colonel smiled sadistically. “And, Senator? Between now and then if I discover you’ve made other plans or I feel you’re not moving quickly enough? No one, especially your daughter, will be immune from my gentle reminders.”

The colonel turned and disappeared into the darkened shadows of the room.

For a long time, Rowland stood silent, terrified and unsure of his next move. He was up against a terrible wall, but if he gave the colonel free rein to annihilate any person, group or organization he considered anti-American, he could ignite a war with enemies the American government kept close.

One thing was for certain—The Solution’s operatives were fueled by their blind faith in the colonel. Cut the head off the snake, and The Solution folded.

Rowland knew of only one man who could help him. A ghost. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and made several quick inquiries. Armed with a phone number few knew existed, Senator Rowland exited the club and found a pay phone down the street. For a long moment, he held the phone in his hand, knowing that if he made the call, he put everyone he loved at risk. He also knew that if he walked away, the fate of the free world was as much at risk. He dialed.

On the third ring, a deep voice answered, “Black.”

The senator cleared his throat and slowly said, “Mr. Black, this is Senator William Rowland.”

“Who referred you?”

“Attorney General Marks. He said to give you the code word Orion.”

“Go ahead.”

“I made a bargain with the devil and need you to eliminate him.”

“I’m listening.”