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  “What is that?” Rutledge asked. “Oh… a…”

  “Garrote,” Reskova finished for her. “Is this about Fullujah?”

  “No,” McDaniels stated without hesitation. “You should take five seconds, Agent Reskova, and tell me everything you know about Fallujah.”

  “You could have just shot him,” Rutledge said, ignoring McDaniels’ pointed reply.

  “Not without risking the little one’s life,” McDaniels replied quietly. “I needed a way to not only stop him from doing something by reflex, but also a way to drag him away from her at the same time.”

  “This won’t play well in the press,” Barrington sighed. “We could say you were fighting with him and Hughes fell on his own razor wire strung around his camp.”

  “I already called Dreyer back and let him know what happened. I’m not making up some fish story for this guy,” Reskova stated. “Forget it.”

  McDaniels grinned, the scar on his face glowing eerily in the campfire’s light. “Thanks for the thought, Tom. I’m with Agent Reskova on this. I’m not going to lie about it. I don’t care what the press thinks about it, or Dreyer.”

  “They could send you to prison, Colonel,” Rutledge added. “Why’d you do it?”

  McDaniels shrugged. “It seemed like the thing to do at the time.”

  * * *

  The transport helicopter circled the parking lot. Police on duty there pushed the crowd of people and press back away from the landing site. Barrington, Reskova, and Rutledge were watching the crowd below. McDaniels sat with Alicia where they had her on a gurney strapped into place.

  “Who’s brilliant idea was this circus, Diane?” Barrington asked. “There has to be at least a couple hundred people down there. How can this help anything?”

  “I don’t know, and I don’t know,” Reskova answered. “With the high profile people involved in this, it doesn’t surprise me.”

  “You don’t think Uncle Frank would use this as a photo op, do you?” Rutledge asked sarcastically as the helicopter touched down.

  “Actually, no,” Reskova replied. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if one of his minions tipped off the press.”

  “Or someone with AD Dreyer, perhaps?” Barrington offered.

  The helicopter touched down. A team of medical personnel ran up to the side door of the huge copter, accompanied by Alicia’s worried looking parents.

  “I’ll see you again won’t I?” Alicia asked McDaniels, clutching his hand with both of hers as Barrington and the doctor they had sent along on the pickup undid the restraints around the gurney.

  “You have my card, little one,” McDaniels replied, patting her hands. “Call me when all this stuff blows over.”

  “You… you’re in trouble, aren’t you?” Alicia asked as she was propelled toward the open helicopter hatch and a cacophony of noise beyond. “I am missing you already.”

  McDaniels waved to her one final time. The gurney disappeared into a crowd of arms and noise. McDaniels sat down again holding onto his pack with the grisly bag tied to the side. Rutledge and Barrington looked back at him sympathetically before exiting the helicopter. Reskova walked back to him and gestured for McDaniels to follow her. Before they reached the hatch, Dreyer bounded on board, motioning Reskova and McDaniels to hold up.

  “The press picked up your second transmission, Diane, and your call in this morning with the coordinates,” Dreyer explained.

  “Jesus… that explains the crowd… sorry, Sir. What can we do?”

  “Not much we can do. The morning addition and all the newscasts led with it in all its gory glory,” Dreyer answered, handing her the paper in his hand.

  The headline read: Kidnapper Beheaded, Senator Hokanson’s Niece Unhurt. Reskova skimmed over the story with McDaniels reading over her shoulder with bemused indifference. Reskova finished, and looked up at Dreyer with real dread.

  “Oh my God,” Reskova whispered. “They list us as being with him on this. I…”

  “They’re out there,” McDaniels interrupted. “I’ll tell them the truth.”

  “You can’t, Colonel,” Dreyer replied, shaking his head. “It would constitute a public confession of murder. You…”

  “So what?” McDaniels shrugged. “I’m sick of this crap where human demons terrorize us and when they get caught in the act we crucify the captors for proper etiquette. I’ll take the heat.”

  McDaniels left his bag where it lay. He walked toward the hatch without hesitation. The waiting gaggle of journalists with microphones and video camera setups crowded outside the helicopter. Reskova grabbed his arm, seeking to restrain him. McDaniels walked by her as if she had not touched him, yanking her forward slightly before she released him. Dreyer shook his head at Reskova.

  “Let him go, Diane. It’s his funeral. We need him to confirm we had nothing to do with Hughes’ death. It’ll sound a hell of a lot better coming from him,” Dreyer said.

  Reskova nodded but followed McDaniels out anyway. McDaniels was already in a sea of news people, jockeying around for position, and shoving microphones toward the big man, shouting out questions in rapid-fire bursts. McDaniels smiled, nodding and waving. When McDaniels said nothing, the reporters quieted somewhat.

  “Hello,” McDaniels said. “I’ve been told you have some misconceptions about the rescue of Alicia Hokanson. I…”

  “Does that mean you didn’t cut Hughes’ head off,” a reporter in the front interrupted.

  “No, but the FBI did not sanction my actions, or stand by and allow it to happen,” McDaniels stated. “I found a razor wire trap Hughes had set for us on his trail. I crimped it between two pieces of wood. While he watched the FBI agents who were nowhere near me, I came up behind him. Using the razor wire as a garrote, I killed Hughes. It was only then I released the little girl, covered her up, and rejoined the FBI agents. They knew nothing of what I had planned, or what I would do.”

  Shocked silence reigned, as McDaniels’ simple recounting of Hughes’ death chilled even the cynical reporters. After a moment, news people whispered anxiously to their producers about whether to cut off from live feed. Finally, a woman reporter began shouting questions.

  “Were you armed with a gun? Why didn’t you ask him to surrender? What…”

  “One at a time, Ma’am,” McDaniels cut in. “I did have a gun. I didn’t even consider letting him know I was there. The little girl was within his reach.”

  “Who made you judge, jury, and executioner?” The reporter next to her barked out.

  “Partly the circumstances and partly because anyone going after these sub-human monsters should not be handcuffed by some rulebook. He didn’t steal a loaf of bread. He kidnapped and tortured a little girl. I caught him red-handed. He’s in hell and the FBI agents, little girl, and me are just fine.”

  “He was a survivalist and an expert in the woods. How do we know he wasn’t sleeping when you killed him?” Another asked quickly.

  McDaniels shrugged. “Why would I lie? If I had snuck up on him when he was sleeping, I might have done the same thing. As it happened, he wasn’t sleeping and I guess he wasn’t as good as I am in the woods.”

  “You can be tried for murder, Sir,” the same reporter followed up.

  “I expect so,” McDaniels replied.

  “Do you picture yourself as some kind of mountain man, like Jeremiah Johnson in that movie of Robert Redford’s?” A man in suit and tie with a CBS camera crew shouted out from the fringe of the crowd.

  McDaniels smiled. “About the only movie I remember making an impression on me, was that one about the Civil War I saw a while back, called Cold Mountain. I really liked the line Rene Zellwigger recited toward the end: “Every piece of this is Man’s bull-shit. They call this war a cloud over the land; but they made the weather! And then they stand in the rain, sayin’ Shit, it’s rainin’.”

  McDaniels repeated the line, imitating the actress’ inflection as he remembered it.

  After a moment, the woman who had a
sked the first question asked another, confusion in her voice.

  “So you’re saying this happened because of something in your past?”

  “Nope - only that I like the rain.”

  A ripple of laughter went through the crowd. Reskova took the opportunity to step between McDaniels and the reporters. “That will be all for now. A statement from the FBI will be issued as soon as we finish our investigation.”

  As Reskova tried to propel McDaniels through the crowd with Dreyer’s help, they were bombarded with more questions about whether the FBI was arresting McDaniels. Both Reskova and Dreyer repeated a no comment mantra as they worked their way through the crowd of reporters. Dreyer’s car was waiting for them. The trio jammed into it quickly. Dreyer’s driver took off immediately.

  Reskova looked over at McDaniels who sat next to her in the back. “You could get the needle for making those statements.”

  “Yep.”

  “Why did you do it, Colonel?” Dreyer asked, leaning over the seat.

  “It was the safest way to take him out - and I wanted to kill him.”

  “We’ll have to take you into custody,” Dreyer said.

  “I realize that. The homemade garrote is in my bag. I guess you’ll have someone get my bag and the head, right?”

  “Already taken care of,” Dreyer answered. “They’ll pick up the body later on in the day. You should never have volunteered for this if you had the intention of murdering Hughes. I’m sorry our transmission was picked up.”

  “I’m still getting paid for this, right?”

  “Just as promised,” Dreyer answered. “I know better than to break a deal with you.”

  “Good.” McDaniels leaned back with his hands behind his head.

  * * *

  McDaniels, dressed in an orange jumpsuit, ducked slightly through the doorway. The guard trailing him indicated the seat at the small conference table opposite the three people sitting on the other side. Agent Reskova, AD Dreyer, and a very well dressed man in his late thirties waited for Colonel McDaniels to sit down. Before either of the FBI agents could speak, the man with them stood up quickly and grasped McDaniels’ handcuffed hands in both of his across the table.

  “Colonel, I’m Frank Hokanson. Thank you for saving my niece. I’m sorry for this delay in getting to see you. The legal team I hired for you had a bit of difficulty with the DA in this place. Guard, take the Colonel’s cuffs off please.”

  “I don’t think that would be a good idea, Sir,” the guard replied. “We had to put McDaniels in solitary confinement after his participation in an altercation with other inmates. He nearly killed three men.”

  “Shit, Colonel!” Dreyer exclaimed. “You’ve been in here less than two weeks.”

  “This isn’t the Hilton Hotel, Jim,” McDaniels said, waving off the guard and sitting down. “Nice meeting you, Senator. I’m very glad to have been of help to the little one. I trust she is feeling better?”

  “She sure is. There’s no way in hell you should have ever been put in here. If this… I mean if Agent Reskova had restrained from broadcasting the circumstances of Alicia’s rescue for the eight o’clock news, we’d be having ticker tape parades for you. You’ve impressed a lot of people in places where they don’t think much about the rights of maniacal child murderers.”

  “I appreciate your support, Sir, but I knew my actions would have consequences,” McDaniels replied, smiling at a scowling Reskova. “When will I be charged?”

  “Never. You would not believe the public outcry over your detainment. In spite of newscasters and reporters trying to make you into Charlie Manson, the people want you canonized. You’ve even been given a nickname after the interview you gave. Look at this.”

  Hokanson spread out a newspaper with the headline: DA To Release Cold Mountain.

  McDaniels read a little of the article. “Cold Mountain, huh? The DA is really going to release me?”

  “The papers should be ready by tomorrow morning,” Dreyer put in at Hokanson’s nod. “Luckily, you were never formally charged.”

  “Not that I’m ungrateful but how come three of you came over to give me the news?”

  “As you may or may not know,” Hokanson went on with some excitement, “Agent Reskova heads up a task force, which investigates crimes committed by serial monsters like Hughes. They are under the jurisdiction of Homeland Security so they also work at the anti-terrorism angle frequently.”

  “We’d like you to consider joining up with the task force, Colonel,” Dreyer finished.

  “From prison to the FBI special task force?” McDaniels chuckled. “How do you feel about that Agent Reskova?”

  “It stinks.” Reskova ignored Dreyer’s warning look. “You are arguably as psycho as…”

  “That will be all, Agent Reskova,” Hokanson cut her off angrily. “Will you consider it, Colonel? We know you served with CIA anti-terrorism and you’re an expert tactician in hostage or urban warfare situations.”

  “What leeway would I have within the taskforce?”

  “You would be a freelance consultant,” Dreyer answered. “We would of course expect you to keep the head count down in your work.”

  “That’s not funny, Jim,” Reskova snapped as both Hokanson and McDaniels laughed a little at the unkind reference to Hughes’ demise. “I admit…”

  “You admit without Colonel McDaniels it’s very possible you, your agents, and my niece would all be dead, killed hideously by that piece of human excrement,” Hokanson cut her off again.

  “We still do not work outside the law, Sir.”

  “How about it, Colonel?” Hokanson asked, ignoring Reskova.

  “It’s the best offer I’ve had in the last couple weeks. I’d like to give it a try if you can promise me Agent Reskova won’t frag me.”

  Hokanson and Dreyer both burst into laughter but Reskova stared coldly at McDaniels. Hokanson stood up.

  “Agent Reskova will be obtaining your release and picking you up tomorrow morning, Colonel,” Dreyer explained. “I wish we could take you with us now but it just ain’t possible. Diane will go over the details of where you’ll be going. I’ll be seeing you, Colonel.”

  Hokanson handed McDaniels a card. “Call me anytime when you get to Washington. Thanks to the new Homeland Security directives about cooperation, the new task force will be stationed out of Langley, a place you’re more than a little familiar with.”

  “Thank you, Sir, I’ll do my best.” McDaniels watched the two men leave before refocusing his attention on a grim faced Reskova.

  “I never thought I’d be briefing you on entry into my task force. I figured the most I’d be doing is giving you a good word at your trial for murder.”

  “I’m surprised you’d have done that much.”

  “I know you may well have saved our lives but it was only because the entire operation had been compromised by Hokanson. You don’t really think you would have been traipsing around out in the woods with three FBI agents after a known killer with a hostage, if the kidnapped girl had been a nobody, do you?”

  “That may have been why I was brought in with you three. Someone may have done some thinking outside the proverbial box and came up with a scenario where everyone involved looked good, or if the operation went into the toilet, I’d get the blame.”

  “And you’re comfortable with that? It doesn’t bother you to be used as the operational whipping boy?”

  McDaniels shrugged. “I’ve been used before.”

  “Yeah, I’ve read your file since coming back from our excursion into the woods. How much is missing out of your file, Colonel?”

  “The folks in charge would have hung you out to dry along with me,” McDaniels reminded her. “Yet you, Jen, and Tom followed me into the woods anyway, even though you all smelled a rat too.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Some of my file can’t be accessed at your level.”

  “We can’t work at cross purposes. You would end up
right back in here. I won’t cover for your brutality.”

  McDaniels laughed. “My brutality, huh?”

  “What was that deal with Hughes, some kind of audition?” Reskova pressed him.

  “You knew exactly what I knew,” McDaniels countered. “In case you don’t know, Senator Hokanson is on the Senate Committee that oversees CIA.”

  “So what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying the Senator wanted his niece back. He probably talked to a few people who knew I was back in the states and were familiar with my expertise. Hokanson seems like a realist. He probably knew the chances of ever seeing his niece alive were slim to none.”

  “Until he put you in the picture.”

  “Why not brief me on what you want me to do as a member of your task force and then call it a day,” McDaniels suggested. “There’s no reason to keep dancing around our last little get together.”

  “Okay, here’s the way I see it. You’re obviously a professional killer. Tom is the only one who has actually drawn his weapon and wounded a suspect. Jen has drawn her weapon, as have I, but we’ve never been in a combat situation,” Reskova explained truthfully. “We are virtually the best people in the FBI at investigations, computer expertise, forensics, and on site intel. I have a doctorate in forensic pathology. Tom and Jen both have masters degrees in computer engineering.”

  “Very impressive. Any of you do profiling?”

  “Unfortunately not as much as I know you have, which was another reason your name kept coming up. I read in your file the CIA used you as a profiler.”

  “My general outlook on people is cynical and bleak. That makes me pretty good as a profiler. I’m best at tactical situations.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I find out what needs to be done and then I come up with a way to do it with the least casualties. I have experience in hostage situations as well as combat.”

  “But not within the continental United States, right?”

  “Hughes was my first in the US.”

  “Not a very good start,” Reskova observed.