plus Harry Weiss, are all dead, and Admin is in pretty tough shape.”
“I’m listening,” McGarvey said. He stuffed his pistol in his belt, and got down on his hands and knees, below the level of most of the brush and tall grasses, and careful to make absolutely no noise began edging his way back up the hill.
“We lied to you in Baghdad. Admin was responsible for your son-in-law’s death and the IED at Arlington. It was meant for you. Mr. Sandberger wanted you dead to protect one of his clients.”
McGarvey stopped. He was less than five feet from Kangas, who was looking in the general direction of the big tree. It took everything within his power not to shoot the contractor in the back of the head, right now.
“Listen, we want to make a deal with you. We’re getting out of Admin, too much shit is going to hell. It’s no longer healthy for us.”
McGarvey took out his pistol, suddenly stood up and in two steps was on Kangas, jamming the muzzle of his silencer into the side of the man’s head. “Drop your pistol now.”
Kangas hesitated for just a second, but then did as he’d been told.
“Tell your partner to drop his weapon and come closer so I can see him.”
“Ronni stay where you are, he has me,” Kangas shouted. “Sorry, Mr. McGarvey, but you’ll have to be satisfied with just me.”
A black rage threatened to block McGarvey’s sanity, but he forced himself to calm down. This was business, nothing more. These guys were only a means to an end. “Who were the shooters who took out my son-in-law and the newspaper reporter and his family?”
“Just one gun. Ex Green Beret, works out of our Washington office. He’s Mr. Remington’s right-hand man. He was our spotter at the airport when you came in. Short, dark.”
“Name?”
“Calvin Boberg. Lives down in Arlington.”
“Why are you telling me this?” McGarvey asked.
“Because if it was my family that got wiped out I’d go after the bastard who did it, and nothing could stop me.”
“How do I know it wasn’t you?”
“We’re contractors, which means we don’t kill women and children. But that’s what Admin’s come to, and now that Mr. Sandberger’s dead it’s going to get a hell of a lot worse, because Remington is a crazy son of a bitch.”
“But you were sent to Baghdad to kill me, and now you’re here,” McGarvey said. “Why specifically?”
“Because of what your son-in-law probably told you on the phone after meeting with the reporter.”
“The Friday Club?”
“Yeah, Mr. Foster, he’s one of our biggest clients, and he wants you dead.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, and I swear to Christ it’s the truth. But Remington and Sandberger were both worried that you would probably get too close for comfort. You were the company’s top priority.”
What Kangas was saying had the ring of truth to it, but there was more, just out of reach. McGarvey could feel it.
Something moved a little higher up the hill toward the road, but still to the left, but then stopped. Kangas had heard it and he stiffened.
“Tell him to walk away or I’ll shoot you right now and it’ll be just him and me,” McGarvey said.
“You’re going to shoot me anyway.”
“No need, I got what I wanted.”
Kangas shifted his weight to his left leg and started to swivel away from the gun pointed at the side of his head. The man was good, his movement sudden and swift, but he’d tensed the instant before he started to turn and McGarvey had felt it, and followed to the left, the pistol never leaving the contractor’s jawline.
“Your choice,” McGarvey said, jamming the pistol even harder.
“What do you want me to do?” Kangas asked, resignation finally in his voice.
“Tell your partner to toss his gun out where I can see it and walk back up to the car and wait for you.”
“Ronni,” Kangas shouted.
“I heard him,” Mustapha said from maybe only a few yards farther up the hill. “I can take him out from here.”
“Don’t miss,” McGarvey said, and he pulled the pistol’s hammer back. It was not necessary but the sound was distinctive.
“Do what he says, goddamnit, and we get to walk out of here alive!”
“I heard what you told him,” Mustapha said. “If Remington goes down, what about the money?”
“Screw the money.”
Mustapha was silent for several seconds.
“Come on, man,” Kangas said. “Just do it.”
Mustapha stepped into view, his hands in plain sight out to the sides. He let his gun drop to the ground. “If you’re going