Gideon's Corpse

69

Stone Fordyce heard the chopper before he saw it: a UH-60 Black Hawk, coming in low and fast from the east. He had moved to the far end of the parking lot, near the gates to the motor pool, and he took refuge from the rotor wash behind a Humvee on blocks. The Black Hawk slowed and turned, touching down on the tarmac of the nearly empty lot. Fordyce waited for the craft to settle. As the rotors spun down, the cabin door opened and six SWAT team members hopped out, wearing full body armor and carrying M4 carbines. A moment later a civilian stepped down and Fordyce was startled, and encouraged, to see that Dart himself had come along. More proof that calling Dart had been the right choice.

He watched as they moved out of the backwash and gathered near the doors of the building.

Fordyce straightened up and came out from behind the car, showing himself. Dart saw him and gestured him over.

Fordyce jogged up to the group of soldiers, who fanned out in a semicircle as he arrived—a lieutenant, a warrant officer, and four specialists.

“Are they still inside?” Dart asked, stepping forward.

Fordyce nodded.

“And Crew? Where’s he?”

“Still down in Level Four, as far as I know. As you requested, I’ve initiated no contact.”

“Any sign of activity? Confrontation?”

“No.”

“Any other security involved? Alarms or alerts?”

“Nothing as far as I can tell. It’s been as quiet as a tomb here.”

“Good.” Dart checked his watch. “They’ve been inside for almost fourteen minutes, by my reckoning.” He frowned. “Listen, Agent Fordyce. You’ve done a fine piece of work. But your job is now done and I don’t want anything, and I mean anything, going wrong. We’re going to let the professionals handle it from this point on.” He extended his hand. “Your sidearm, please.”

Fordyce slipped it out of its holster, held it out to Dart butt-first. But even as he did so, he was surprised at the request. “Why do you want it?”

Dart took the weapon, examined it, racked a round into the chamber, then raised his arm and pointed the gun at Fordyce’s chest. “Because I’m going to shoot you with it.”

A noise, shockingly loud; a burst of white; and Fordyce was punched backward, the round striking him square in the breastbone and knocking him to the asphalt. He had never in his entire life been so surprised, and as he stared wide-eyed into an impossibly blue summer sky, he was unable to process what had happened to him even as the last of his life fluttered out, blue rushing to black.