Stricken listened carefully as his source continued describing the testimony. It matched almost exactly what another source from the same secret meeting had supplied a few minutes earlier. It was nice to have multiple moles. It kept everyone honest.

“Thank you, Elwood. I’ll remember the favor.” Stricken hung up on the congressman, then tossed the iPhone to one of his subordinates, who immediately sealed it into a bag. There were protocols in place for anything that might prove useful for future blackmail purposes.

A different man handed him another phone. “It’s Director Stark.”

Now that was one particular puppet whose annoyance was quickly outweighing his continued usefulness. Stricken took the phone. “What, Doug?”

“I tried to give the order to have Franks arrested, but the committee—”

“I already know. While you were taking your sweet time somebody else informed me about how you sat there like a moron while Myers’ golden boy spouted off about my secret organization. Way to go, champ.”

The line went quiet for a long time. Stark knew he was in trouble. They both knew the only reason he’d gotten the directorship was because of Stricken’s string-pulling. “I tried to call as soon as—”

“Make sure Franks stays put. Don’t go near him. I’ll be in touch.” He ended the call, then handed the phone back. This one didn’t get bagged. He had so much dirt on Stark that it didn’t matter at this point. “Myers, you clever bastard. What are you up to?”

They were supposed to have ruled Franks a menace. The MCB should have detained him. The President’s hands would be clean. Everyone would be happy. There were only a couple of facilities in the country that could hold something like Franks, and Stricken had already made arrangements at both of them for Franks to get obliterated trying to escape. But Myers was good . . . He’d moved first and spooked the Subcommittee members who were in Stricken’s pocket. Word was that Myers was getting Las Vegas under control surprisingly fast, which meant he would rush back to the action to really try to screw Stricken over.

It had been a long time since he’d so enjoyed a game of chess like this.

They were a lot alike, and both of them knew how to play the system, but the difference between him and Myers was that Myers still had faith in the system actually working as designed, checks and balances and whatnot. He would expect Stricken to run for cover and start doing damage control. He’d expect meetings and heated arguments, maybe some internal investigations, that sort of thing.

Myers sure as hell wouldn’t expect what would happen next.

Despite his opponent’s considerable intellect and ability to spin lies with the best of them, Myers was at heart a decent, patriotic man. That made him vulnerable. Myers reserved his ruthlessness for paranormal enemies. Stricken didn’t make such distinctions. You’re either with me or you’re in my way. Considering what he suspected was coming down the pike, for America—hell, the human race—to survive, then they’d need somebody with the guts to do what was necessary running the show. Stricken knew he was that man.