An instant later, the Great Room erupted. More noise, more flashes, and more stench of gunpowder. One of the bullets from Burke’s gun struck Vaill in the neck. Another slammed into his shoulder, where the Kevlar offered no protection. A geyser of blood erupted from the neck wound spraying in all directions, bathing his face and clothes, and turning the floor at his feet crimson.

Lou stood helplessly as Vaill dropped his gun and stumbled back a step. But somehow, he refused to go down.

“Maria,” he said, louder than before. “I … love … you.”

Then, to Lou’s astonishment, the wounded agent, more dead than alive, charged forward, blood spraying from the grotesque holes in his neck and shoulder. The killer fired once more from no more than ten feet. Then again. The first shot shattered Vaill’s forearm. The second went through his mouth and out his cheek. Legs still pumping furiously, Vaill cleared the last five feet.

Burke was wide-eyed, raising his gun for a center forehead killshot, when the bloody apparition lowered his shoulder and hit him with intense force. In that same motion, Vaill locked his arms around Burke’s midsection, and drove him backward like a linebacker tackling in the open field.

The two enemies, one essentially dead, one about to be, slammed against one of the massive windows, and then continued through it into the ebony night.

Amid the sound of glass raining down onto the stone floor, Lou swore he heard Vaill cry out his wife’s name one final time.

Chapter 53

CHAPTER 53

It is folly to consider that spending on bloated, parasitic entitlement programs occurs within a vacuum, for each expenditure will put a drain on other worthy causes, such as our defense force, which our Constitution obligates us to maintain.

—LANCASTER R. HILL, A Secret Worth Keeping, SAWYER RIVER BOOKS; 1937, P. 18

A strong wind blew through the shattered glass, scattering loose papers from an end table into the air, and briefly turning the elegant Great Room into a snow globe. Lou rushed to the gaping window. His powerful flashlight beam could not penetrate the lingering mist, and probably would never have reached the base of the cliff even if it had. He listened for confirmation of what he knew was true, but heard only wind and waves. Dazed, he surveyed the gruesome trail of blood—all that remained here of Tim Vaill. Given the man’s neurologic damage, it was doubtful he would have ever been able to function as an agent again. And given the depth of his anguish and hatred, he had accomplished what he had come to do.

You got what you came for, my friend, Lou thought, gazing out into the night. Now you can rest.

He heard the hum of Humphrey’s motorized wheelchair approaching from behind, and turned to see the two scientists.

“Agent Vaill?” Kazimi asked.

“Gone. He died for us and took Burke with him.”